Illuminating the “Unseen” & “Unspoken”
Thought, in its essence, is an intellectual construct, a tool for navigating the practical aspects of life. It’s essential for planning, learning, and organizing. However, its fundamental limitation lies in its basis in the past – thoughts are a response to accumulated memories, knowledge, and experiences. This retrospective nature means thought is inherently unable to apprehend the present moment in its totality. It’s always a step removed from the direct experience, interpreting rather than experiencing. Thought can be understood as a mental process wherein ideas, images, and cognitive symbols are conjured and manipulated. It is a fundamental aspect of human consciousness leading to the formation of ideas, judgments, memories, and plans.
Biologically, thoughts arise from the neural activity in the brain. Psychologically, they are influenced by our experiences, emotions, culture, and subconscious mind. Philosophically, some argue that thoughts are more than mere brain activity; they might represent an interaction with a broader consciousness or a deeper, more intrinsic aspect of the self. The exploration of the psyche in it’s entirety beyond thoughts involves looking into the depths of consciousness, beyond the surface-level chatter of the mind. It’s an exploration of what remains when thoughts are quieted – the essence of being, the fundamental nature of consciousness.
Thought is inherently limited. It is born from our accumulated knowledge, memories, experiences, and conditioning. Each thought is a fragment, a part of the whole, filtered through our personal lens. The limitation of thought lies in its inability to capture the totality of what is, as it’s always colored by past conditioning and subjective interpretations.
Let’s understand if there’s any thinking without thought ? Exploring this notion of thinking without thought ventures into a paradoxical realm. Traditionally, thinking is seen as the process of using thoughts. However, there are some different perspectives revolving around the same. They speak of a state of ‘pure observation’ or ‘direct perception,’ where one is aware and attentive but not caught in the web of conceptual thinking. This is not thinking in the traditional sense but a state of heightened awareness where one perceives things as they are, unfiltered by thoughts. The inadequacy of language in capturing this entirety of an experience is a well-acknowledged philosophical challenge. Words are symbols, abstractions that represent reality but are not reality themselves. They can point towards the truth but cannot fully encapsulate it. This disconnect between the symbol and the actuality is why descriptions often fall short of conveying the full essence of an experience. Perceiving something without the interference of subjective knowledge or past experiences is a central aim in our exploration. It is akin to seeing with a ‘beginner’s mind’ in Zen Buddhism or practicing ‘choiceless awareness’. In such states, perception is not clouded by previous conditioning; one sees the ‘what is’ without the overlay of the ‘what has been’ or ‘what could be.’ Direct perception/reception or choiceless awareness is a key concept in understanding a state beyond the limitations of thought. This is a state of consciousness where one observes without the duality of the observer and the observed. In this state, the mind does not interpret, compare, or evaluate, but simply perceives what is. This kind of perception is devoid of the biases, filters, and conditioning that usually cloud our understanding.
Consciousness, in its purest form, is often described as a vast, boundless field of awareness that transcends the limitations of thought. In various spiritual traditions, this consciousness is seen as the fundamental essence of our being, uncolored by personal identity, cultural conditioning, or linguistic constructs. It’s an experiential state where the sense of separation between the self and the external world diminishes, leading to a profound sense of unity or oneness. Non-dual awareness refers to a state of consciousness where the artificial distinctions between subject and object, observer and observed, dissolve. In this state, one experiences reality as an undivided whole, where the dichotomies and dualities created by thought no longer hold sway. This non-dual awareness is often described as a direct experience of the true nature of reality, unmediated by the conceptual mind and ego. The ego is often seen as a construct of the mind, a collection of self-identifications, memories, and personality traits that create the illusion of a separate, distinct self. Transcending thought involves recognizing the ego as an illusion, a limited perspective that confines our understanding of ourselves and the universe.
Exploring this further, let’s delve deeper into the aspects where we try to understand if there can be observation without conditioning/ego/judgements/thoughts.
Interpreting an observation that is not shaped or driven by thought presents a unique challenge. By its very nature, this type of observation defies conventional interpretation, as interpretation itself is a function of thought. Therefore, experiences rooted in direct perception/reception or choiceless awareness are often described as ineffable or transcendental. They are understood not through the analytical mind but through a profound sense of knowing or/of being. Thought is inherently a movement of memory, knowledge, and experience. It is a dynamic process, always referencing the past, comparing, and categorizing based on previous data stored in the brain which is actually static. Due to its reliance on past information, thought is inherently limited in apprehending the new, the unknown, or the present moment in its fullness. It is always a step behind, processing and interpreting, rather than directly experiencing. It’s a process that, by its very nature, is retrospective, constantly referring to the past to make sense of the present. This reference to the past is both the strength and limitation of thought. It allows us to learn, plan, and reason, but simultaneously confines us within the boundaries of our previous experiences and conditioning. Every thought, therefore, is a reflection of this accumulated knowledge, a product of our individual histories and the collective history of our species. As we deepen our exploration, we begin to see the interplay between thought and awareness more clearly. We start to understand that thoughts, in themselves, are not the problem. The challenge lies in our identification with them, in our habitual pattern of mistaking the content of our thoughts for the totality of our being. This identification is what keeps us entangled in the web of ego and illusion, preventing us from experiencing the fullness of our true nature. The challenge and the beauty of experiencing the present moment beyond the framework of thought lies in stepping out of the known – the accumulated knowledge, memory, and experience – and entering the realm of direct, immediate experience.
When we delve into the concept of observation beyond thought, we venture into a realm that is often uncharted by our regular conscious experience. This form of observation is not an act of the thinking mind but a state of pure awareness. It is a form of perception that is immediate and direct, unmediated by the processes of cognition, analysis, or linguistic formulation. In this state, the mind is silent yet acutely aware, observing without the interference of preconceived notions, judgments, or interpretations. This is a form of observation where the observer is fully present, yet there is no active process of ‘observing’ in the conventional sense. Interpreting this thought-free observation poses a significant challenge because interpretation itself is a function of thought. To understand or articulate these experiences, we invariably revert to the tools of thought – language, symbols, and concepts. However, these tools are inadequate to fully capture the essence of such experiences. They are like trying to describe the taste of water using only colors; the medium is fundamentally incapable of conveying the actual experience. Hence, experiences rooted in direct perception or choiceless awareness are often described as ineffable or transcendent. They are understood not intellectually but experientially, as a profound sense of knowing or being that transcends the conventional modes of understanding. The movement of thought, being a continuum of memory and knowledge, inherently limits our perception of the present moment. It’s always a step behind, interpreting and processing rather than directly experiencing. This lag, this reliance on the past, is what prevents thought from apprehending the new, the unknown, or the present moment in its full immediacy. To step beyond this limitation requires a different quality of attention – an attention that is not bound by the linear, sequential process of thinking but is open, expansive, and fully present. This disengagement from the thought process allows for moments of clarity and direct perception, where one can experience reality as it is, not as it is interpreted or remembered. In this context, the role of the observer becomes crucial. In deep observation, the distinction between the observer and the observed begins to blur. This blurring is a realization that the separation between the self and the world is largely a construct of thought. When this artificial barrier falls away, what remains is a state of being where the observer is not separate from the observed but is an integral part of a unified field of awareness. This realization can lead to a profound shift in consciousness, a shift from the duality of subject and object to a state of non-dual awareness. To truly understand and integrate this understanding into our lives we must confront the structures of thought that define our perception of reality.
The present moment, ever fleeting and elusive, exists beyond the grasp of our thoughts. Our attempts to understand the present through thought inevitably involve a retrospective analysis, a looking back to what we already know, to what we have already experienced. This backward glance prevents us from experiencing the present moment in its true essence. It’s like trying to capture the beauty of a sunset by looking only at its reflection in a mirror; the experience is always one step removed from reality. When we speak of observation beyond thought, we are referring to a state of pure awareness, an unfiltered engagement with the present moment. This is a form of observation that transcends the cognitive processes of the mind. It is not about thinking more clearly or more deeply; it is about not thinking at all. In this state, the mind is still, yet acutely aware. There are no judgments, no comparisons, no interpretations. There is only the experience of the present moment in its unadulterated form. This state of observation is not easily attainable, nor is it a permanent state of being. It is a fleeting glimpse into a reality that exists beyond the confines of our conditioned mind. It requires a quieting of the mental chatter, a suspension of the habitual thought processes that dominate our waking life. This quieting is not an act of suppression but an act of surrender, a letting go of the need to analyze, categorize, and understand. In this space of thought-free observation, we encounter the world in a way that is fundamentally different from our usual mode of experience. It is a mode of experience that is direct and immediate, unmediated by the filters of our past experiences and conditioning. In this space, we find a connection to the world that is more intimate and more profound than anything thought can provide. It is a connection that speaks to the interconnectedness of all things, to the fundamental unity of existence.
The challenge, however, lies in integrating this understanding into our daily lives. How do we maintain this connection to the present moment in a world that is constantly pulling us back into the realm of thought? The answer lies not in rejecting thought but in understanding its place and its limitations. It involves cultivating a balance between using thought as a tool for practical living and allowing ourselves to experience moments of thought-free awareness. This balance is not easily achieved. It requires practice, patience, and a willingness to explore the depths of our own consciousness. It involves cultivating mindfulness in our daily activities, being fully present in each moment, whether we are eating, walking, talking, or simply sitting. It involves meditation, not just as a formal practice but as a way of being, a constant attunement to the present moment. As we deepen our practice, we begin to notice subtle shifts in our perception. We start to see the world with a freshness and clarity that was previously obscured by the veil of our thoughts. We begin to experience moments of profound peace and connectedness, moments where the boundaries between self and other dissolve, and we are left with a sense of being part of a larger whole. We may find that our moments of thought-free awareness become more frequent and more profound. We may begin to experience flashes of insight and understanding that arise not from the thinking mind but from a deeper, more intuitive level of consciousness. These moments have the potential to be deeply transformative, offering a glimpse into a way of being that is free from the constraints of conditioned thought. This sense of interconnectedness is not merely a philosophical abstraction but a lived experience. It manifests in a deep sense of empathy and compassion, a genuine understanding of the interconnected nature of all life. In this understanding, the well-being of others becomes inseparable from our own. The artificial distinctions that thought creates between ‘us’ and ‘them’ lose their significance, and we begin to act from a place of intrinsic connection and unity.
The journey towards this understanding and experience is both personal and universal. It is personal in the sense that it requires a deep exploration of one’s own mind and consciousness. It involves a process of unlearning, of letting go of the preconceived notions and beliefs that cloud our perception of reality. At the same time, it is a universal journey, one that has been embarked upon by seekers across different cultures and throughout history. It is a journey towards a truth that transcends the particularities of individual perspectives and cultural conditioning. Moreover, this journey brings us into a closer relationship with the mystery of existence. It opens us to the wonder and awe of life, allowing us to experience the world with a freshness and immediacy that is often lost in adulthood. In this space, we find beauty in the mundane, joy in the simple act of being, and a sense of peace that transcends the ups and downs of daily life. Yet, this journey is not about permanently residing in a state beyond thought. Such an expectation would be unrealistic and contrary to the very nature of human existence. Rather, it is about cultivating the ability to move fluidly between different states of consciousness. It is about learning to use thought when it is useful and necessary, while also being able to step beyond it to experience a more direct and unmediated connection with life.
As we continue to explore this deeper dimension of ourselves, we encounter a paradox. On one hand, there is a sense of individuality, the unique perspective and experiences that each of us brings to the world. On the other hand, there is a sense of universality, a recognition that at the core, we are all expressions of the same fundamental consciousness. This duality of individuality and universality is one of the great mysteries of human existence, a mystery that challenges the linear and rational mind but is intimately known to the heart. In this space beyond thought, we also begin to experience time differently. The usual linear progression of past, present, and future gives way to a more fluid and expansive experience of time. Moments of deep presence and awareness can feel timeless, as if we are touching an eternal now that underlies the changing scenes of life. This experience of timelessness is not an escape from the world but a deeper engagement with it, a recognition that each moment is a doorway to the infinite. This deeper exploration also challenges our conventional understanding of not only time but space as well. In the realm of pure awareness, the linear progression of time gives way to a more fluid and expansive experience. We begin to see time not as a series of discrete moments but as a continuous flow, a flow of creation and dissolution in which we are intimately involved. Similarly, our experience of space transforms from a fixed, three-dimensional framework to a more dynamic and interconnected field. We start to perceive space not as something that separates but as something that unites, a medium through which the dance of existence unfolds.
In this deeper realm, we encounter the concept of the Absolute, a term used in various philosophical and spiritual traditions to denote the ultimate, indivisible reality. The Absolute is often described as the source and substance of all that exists, transcending all categories of thought, including being and non-being. This is not an entity or a being in the traditional sense, but the very ground of being itself. In the presence of the Absolute, the distinctions that dominate our usual experience of reality – between subject and object, self and other, observer and observed – dissolve into a state of non-dual awareness. In this state, the individual consciousness recognizes its unity with the Absolute, realizing that the separation it perceives in the ordinary state of consciousness is an illusion. The dualities that govern our ordinary perception – light and dark, good and evil, pleasure and pain – are seen as expressions of a deeper unity. This perception brings with it a sense of profound peace and equanimity, as one realizes that the essential nature of reality is unchanging and eternal, despite the ever-changing play of phenomena.
Depths of Hurt: An Intriguing Emotion
At its core, hurt is an emotional response to a perceived loss or violation. This loss can be tangible, such as the loss of a loved one, or intangible, like the loss of respect or love. The perception of this loss is crucial; it’s not the objective situation that determines hurt, but how one interprets and internalizes it. The origins of hurt can be traced back to our earliest human experiences. As infants, we are utterly dependent on others for our survival, leading to a deep-rooted need for attachment and acceptance. This need, while essential for survival, also becomes the breeding ground for hurt. When our expectations of support, love, or acknowledgment are unmet, we experience hurt.
Hurt often manifests differently in personal and professional contexts, yet the underlying mechanics are surprisingly similar. In personal relationships, hurt is often more directly linked to emotional bonds and expectations of love, loyalty, and understanding. In professional settings, while the emotional stakes may seem lower, the hurt can still be profound. It often stems from unmet expectations regarding respect, recognition, or the outcome of our efforts. The statement “don’t take it personally” in professional environments is an acknowledgment of this complexity. It attempts to draw a boundary between the personal self and the professional role. Yet, this separation is often not as clear-cut as it seems. Our professional lives are an extension of our personal selves; the values, aspirations, and efforts we put into our work are deeply personal. Thus, when we face criticism, rejection, or failure at work, it can still impact our personal self-esteem and sense of worth.
The hurt one experiences is often a reflection of internal expectations and self-perception. When others do not meet our expectations, or when we fail to meet our own, we experience a sense of loss. This loss is not just about the external situation but also about our internal narrative. We construct stories about who we are and how the world should respond to us. When reality diverges from these stories, we feel hurt. Understanding hurt requires dissecting the dichotomy between external causes and internal reactions. Is hurt caused by others, or is it self-inflicted? The answer is nuanced. Others can act as triggers, but the actual experience of hurt is an internal process. It is our interpretation of events, filtered through our personal beliefs and past experiences, that generates hurt. human experience. We are beings of desire and expectation, living in a world that is constantly changing and often unpredictable. This disconnect between our desires and reality is a fertile ground for hurt. However, this inevitability doesn’t imply helplessness. It requires a shift from external validation to internal self-acceptance, and from rigid expectations to flexible aspirations. This journey towards resilience is not about becoming indifferent or uncaring, but about cultivating a grounded sense of self that can navigate the ups and downs of life with equanimity.
Developmental psychology, for instance, sheds light on how early experiences shape our vulnerability to hurt. Childhood, where the foundation of our self-esteem and worldviews are formed, significantly influences how we perceive and react to potential hurts in later life. Attachment suggests that our early bonding experiences with caregivers form templates for future relationships. Secure attachments lead to resilience, while insecure attachments can heighten our sensitivity to rejection and loss, predisposing us to deeper hurt.
Hurt also stems from conflicts of human existence – our search for meaning in an indifferent universe, the realization of our freedoms and limitations, and the ultimate confrontation with our mortality. Our self-perception plays a critical role in this process. If we perceive ourselves as capable and deserving, failing to meet expectations can lead to self-criticism and hurt. Conversely, if we see ourselves as unworthy, we may internalize external negative outcomes as confirmations of this belief, perpetuating cycles of hurt and low self-esteem.
Let us take a simple example where you feel hurt due to a longing for more time and attention from a loved one, even though you recognize they are doing their best. At the heart of your experience lies a paradox: you have an expectation (desiring more time and attention) and simultaneously an understanding (knowing your loved one is doing their best). This dichotomy is not just a matter of conflicting thoughts, but a reflection of the complex nature of human needs and empathy. On one hand, your need for time and attention is genuine – a fundamental aspect of human relationships where such connections and affirmations are essential for emotional bonding and fulfillment. On the other hand, your empathetic understanding of your loved one’s circumstances shows a depth of maturity and compassion. Feeling hurt in this context may arise from an unmet need, which is central to your emotional wellbeing. It’s important to recognize that such needs are not just whimsical desires; they are integral to our sense of connection and belonging. When these needs are not fully met, even in the presence of understanding and rationalization, it creates an emotional void, often experienced as hurt. The consequences of this paradox can be profound. When the fear of burdening outweighs the need for communication, individuals might choose to suppress or hide their feelings. This suppression, while it might seem to maintain harmony in the short term, can lead to several negative outcomes like emotional distance, resentment or misunderstanding. However, this need for emotional expression often collides with an equally powerful force – the fear of overburdening others. This fear stems from a place of empathy and concern, where we become acutely aware of the other person’s potential struggles and challenges. It also arises from our own vulnerabilities; the fear of being seen as needy, weak, or burdensome. Moreover, there’s an underlying concern about the dynamics of the relationship itself – the worry that being too open about our troubles or desires might alter the equilibrium of the relationship, potentially leading to conflict, distance, or discomfort.
At the heart of this paradox is our self-concept, the multifaceted perception we hold of ourselves. This self-concept is not static; it is shaped by our experiences, beliefs, and the feedback we receive from our environment. When we consider communicating our innermost thoughts and feelings, we are also negotiating with our self-concept. Are we someone who burdens others? Are we worthy of being heard and understood? These questions reflect deeper insecurities and beliefs about our worthiness and role in our relationships. The fear of being a burden often stems from a vulnerable place in our self-concept, where we doubt our value in the eyes of others. The complexity of this paradox also lies in the dynamic nature of human relationships. Each relationship we form is a unique intersection of personalities, histories, and expectations. In some relationships, there may be an established pattern of one person being the caregiver and the other the receiver. Attempting to reverse or alter these roles by expressing one’s own vulnerabilities can feel disruptive and fraught with uncertainty. There’s also the aspect of reciprocity – the balance of give and take. In healthy relationships, this balance is fluid and flexible, but the fear of disturbing this balance can make the act of communication seem daunting.
Psychologically, this paradox is intersecting with our deepest fears and vulnerabilities. It often triggers core issues related to self-worth, rejection, and abandonment. When we contemplate sharing our burdens, we are not just sharing a specific problem or feeling; we are also, on a deeper level, testing our acceptability and worthiness in the eyes of others. The fear that our vulnerabilities might make us less worthy of love or respect can be a powerful deterrent to open communication…
The Clarity in Uncertainty – Dance between Fog and Focus
The tension between clarity and unclarity seems to be rooted in the human condition itself. Our minds are built to seek patterns, to make sense of the world, and to resolve ambiguity. When things are unclear, we often experience discomfort because it conflicts with our innate desire for resolution and understanding. Unclarity poses a challenge, and humans are generally wired to confront and solve challenges; it’s a basic survival instinct.
However, once we achieve clarity, the “puzzle” is solved, the “problem” is resolved, and the thing that engaged our curiosity and problem-solving abilities no longer does so in the same way. The mind then moves on to the next challenge. It’s a kind of restlessness that keeps us evolving, learning, and growing, but it can also be a source of dissatisfaction or even suffering.
The reason why unclarity is challenging could be because it disrupts our sense of control. Clarity gives us the illusion of control, of being able to predict and manipulate our environment effectively. However, life is full of complexities and dualities that resist simple explanations or solutions. That’s why even when we feel we’ve achieved some clarity, it often seems limited or provisional.
This issue also brushes up against existential and spiritual concerns that have fascinated philosophers and religious thinkers for centuries. The idea that life is fundamentally uncertain and that we must find a way to live with this uncertainty is a central theme in many worldviews. It raises questions about how to live a meaningful life within the constraints of our limited understanding and control. Our relationship with unclarity can also change over time and with experience. As we age, we might find that we become more comfortable with shades of gray, more accepting of the limitations of our knowledge and control. Some people find great peace in embracing the mysteries of life, in recognizing the limitations of human cognition and the vastness of what we don’t know.
But this is often a hard-won wisdom, coming after years, or even decades, of grappling with the discomfort and challenges that unclarity brings. Some of the greatest minds in history have discussed the virtue of embracing uncertainty. Scientists, for example, thrive on it; it’s the engine that drives scientific inquiry. For artists, ambiguity can be a rich source of inspiration, a space where new ideas and forms can emerge. In spiritual practices, the embracing of mystery is often considered a path to deeper understanding and enlightenment.
This doesn’t make the process of dealing with unclarity any less challenging, but it may offer a different perspective on why this is such a universal human experience. It might not be something to be solved or eradicated but a fundamental aspect of the human condition to be explored, understood, and even embraced.
In other words, both clarity and unclarity have their roles in our lives, offering different kinds of lessons and opportunities for growth. Clarity can offer us direction and a sense of purpose, but it can also make us complacent or narrow in our thinking. Unclarity, on the other hand, while often uncomfortable, pushes us to question, explore, and stretch our boundaries.
Think of it as a sort of dance. Sometimes, life leads with clarity, providing us with straightforward answers, well-defined goals, and unambiguous directions. At other times, it leads with unclarity, challenging us with questions, uncertainties, and complex dilemmas that don’t have easy answers. Both stances have their own unique beauty and can enrich our lives in different ways.
The key might be learning how to navigate between these two states, knowing when to seek clarity and when to embrace uncertainty, how to balance our need for concrete answers with a willingness to dwell in ambiguity. And most importantly, how to find a sense of peace and even joy in that ongoing dance between the known and the unknown. So while the discomfort and challenge of unclarity can be difficult to live with, they also serve as catalysts for growth, pushing us to evolve and adapt in ways we might not have otherwise. After all, if life were entirely predictable and clear-cut, would it hold the same richness and potential for growth? Perhaps not.
Human nature is inclined toward a preference for clarity because it gives us a sense of control. When things are clear, we know what to expect, how to behave, what choices to make, and that gives us comfort. Clarity aligns with our need for stability and security.
On the other hand, unclarity often provokes discomfort because it takes away our sense of control. When situations are unclear or when we’re facing ambiguity, it triggers our brain’s threat detection systems, making us feel unsettled or anxious.
However, there’s an ironic twist to this natural inclination for clarity: the thrill of the unknown. Humans are also explorers, innovators, and problem solvers. These traits are activated by unclarity. We are drawn to mysteries, puzzles, and challenges because they promise the reward of discovery and growth. So, while our first reaction to unclarity may be discomfort, that same discomfort can motivate us to explore, to understand, and to grow.
But why do we pay more attention to what is unclear even after achieving clarity? Because clarity often brings resolution, and with resolution comes the end of that particular cycle of exploration or growth. On the other hand, unclarity sustains a continual process of seeking and questioning. Even when we solve one puzzle, another often takes its place. This continuous seeking can be stressful, but it’s also how we grow and evolve as individuals.
This is the paradox: Clarity and unclarity are two sides of the same coin, each with its own set of challenges and rewards. Clarity provides comfort but can lead to complacency. Unclarity creates discomfort but also fuels growth. Both are necessary for a fulfilling, well-rounded life.
The challenge, then, isn’t to eliminate unclarity but to engage with it in a way that is constructive rather than paralyzing. This often involves a level of acceptance that some questions might not have straightforward answers, and some situations will involve navigating through grey areas. Yet, it is precisely these challenges that enable us to grow mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. So, living with unclarity is not about finding a final state of total clarity, but about developing the resilience and wisdom to navigate life’s inherent uncertainties in a meaningful way.
In the realm of philosophy, this dual need for both clarity and unclarity echoes the dialectic process—where contradictory ideas coexist, inform each other, and even enable progress. To engage constructively with unclarity, one can apply a similar approach—acknowledging both the comforting aspects of clarity and the growth-oriented elements of unclarity without seeking to completely eliminate either one.
The act of accepting unclarity as a natural part of life can also be seen as an exercise in humility. No matter how much we know, there will always be elements that are out of our control, questions that don’t have immediate answers, and complexities that don’t yield to simple explanations. Acknowledging these uncertainties can open us to deeper understanding, greater empathy, and even wisdom. It frees us from the paralyzing quest for perfect certainty and allows us to make meaningful decisions despite incomplete information.
In practice, this might mean being okay with not having all the answers before taking action, or recognizing that it’s alright to change our minds when faced with new information. It could involve embracing ‘not knowing’ as a state that propels inquiry rather than stifles it. It also encourages a dynamic state of learning, where the lines between teacher and student blur, and every experience becomes an opportunity to grow.
In many philosophical frameworks, absolute clarity or certainty is considered an illusion or an ideal that can never be fully attained. We might strive for clarity but should recognize that it will often be provisional and subject to change.
Perhaps we can think of clarity not as an endpoint, but as a spectrum. At one end is complete confusion or lack of understanding, and at the other is perfect clarity. Most of the time, we find ourselves somewhere in between. Clarity, in this sense, becomes not a destination but a process—a movement along that spectrum towards greater understanding.
When we say we “have clarity,” it might simply mean we’ve moved far enough along this spectrum to make a confident decision or to understand a situation to our own satisfaction. This doesn’t mean we’ve solved the puzzle entirely, just that we have enough pieces in place to see the image taking shape. But clarity is often elusive because life is inherently complex, unpredictable, and full of uncertainties. Our plans and perspectives are always subject to change due to new information, experiences, and insights. Thus, even when we achieve a state of clarity, it’s often temporary and subject to change.
The search for clarity often seems like an endless endeavor precisely because life is complex and ever-changing. When we seek clarity, what we’re often looking for is a framework or paradigm that allows us to make sense of our experiences and observations. But each framework has its limitations; no single lens can capture the full depth and complexity of reality.
The existentialist philosophers, for example, posited that life is inherently ambiguous. There is rarely a single, clear-cut answer to complex questions. The more we learn, the more we recognize the limits of our knowledge. This is what Socrates meant when he said, “I know that I know nothing.” His wisdom lay in recognizing his own ignorance.
Similarly, Eastern philosophies like Buddhism speak of “beginner’s mind,” the idea of approaching life with openness, eagerness, and a lack of preconceptions, much like a beginner or a child. This is not the same as saying one should be ignorant, but rather that one should be open to multiple perspectives and willing to revise one’s understanding as more information becomes available.
In modern psychology, this ongoing quest for clarity amidst uncertainty can sometimes be framed as “tolerance for ambiguity,” a psychological trait that defines one’s ability to function well in situations that are uncertain, unclear, or chaotic. People with high tolerance for ambiguity are generally more flexible and find it easier to adapt to new situations, while those with low tolerance may find ambiguity to be stressful and may seek to resolve it as quickly as possible, even if it means settling for a simplistic answer.
So why do we seek clarity? From an evolutionary standpoint, being able to quickly assess and understand our environment could have survival benefits. However, the modern world is much more complex than the environments in which our ancestors lived, and the “clarity” we seek may not always be achievable or may require us to accept some level of uncertainty or paradox.
The pursuit of clarity, then, is both a psychological and philosophical endeavor. It involves developing the cognitive and emotional skills needed to navigate uncertainty and the wisdom to recognize that our understanding of any given situation is likely to be partial and contingent on various factors.
If we can get comfortable with the idea that absolute clarity is an ideal rather than a constant state, we can free ourselves to seek understanding in a more nuanced and open-minded way. We learn to appreciate the journey of intellectual and emotional growth, even if it never leads to a single, unambiguous destination.
Abhishek Fanse 