Taking into consideration the nature of curiosity, one thinks of the ocean’s vast expanse in contrast to the already breathtaking enormity of the sandy beach upon which he or she stands. In spite of whatever geographical knowledge may reside within the individual’s educational history, for a moment, an infinite gamut of possibilities lies just beyond the horizon where ocean and sky kiss. For all he or she knows, it might as well be the very ends of the earth. Indeed, through the eyes of a child, such a sight must feel precisely this way.
Due to the numerous advances in modern-day cartography and travel, we now know this is not the case. Nevertheless, the anticipation of unforeseen potentialities does not cease simply because a textbook or road map delineates what might await us on the other side.
Academic exploration into the ‘wild blue yonder’ is of a similar quality. That is, to release the anchor of one’s preconceived notions and sail into an endless realm of possibility. Perhaps others might choose to abandon the boat altogether. If threatening circumstances, such as bloodthirsty sharks and crushing waves, were of no importance, it is not inconceivable to wish one could swim the entire length of the ocean from continent to continent. To be physically adrift in mellifluous serenity would provide revelations for which no man might ever dream to ask. But even then, numerous individuals would still refuse to leave the shore.
It is with this metaphor in mind that I approach the topics of critical thinking and academic inquisitiveness. Many subdivisions within mainstream religion denounce the practice of ‘scholarly’ investigation into holy texts, doctrines, and so on, as if a single grain of doubt or a collection of widespread knowledge is the bane of their existence.
What, I ask, are we so desperately hiding from?
Great thinkers of every generation, both religious and non-religious, boast long and relatively happy lives with no evidence of lightning bolt barrages or the gaping maw of Hell opening beneath them. Surely, I say to the faithful, the ‘Maker’ must have permitted such inquiries and investigations to occur. If not, then perhaps the driver was asleep at the wheel during the greatest intellectual and religious revolutions our world has ever seen.
Needless to say, this is highly improbable if such a power exists. It is much more likely that healthy skepticism/exploration not only enriches one’s understanding of the complexities within humankind and its ‘Maker’, but is also a vital component in the overall relationship between the two. Therefore, should not the faithful be the most receptive to questioning and ‘spiritual journeying’? Alas, this is hardly the case.
For those of us whose voyages have already begun, the ocean beneath our fragile ships reveals its true colors as time wears on. Despite promises of adventure and opportunity beyond the horizon, the harsh reality sets in that we no longer stand upon terra firma. We discover that in the midst of serenity, unforgiving chaos and bitter loneliness prevail above all else.
Is illumination worth as much?
Thinking back to life on land, we reminisce about our families, friends, and neighbors…the comforts of home. Deep down we wonder if, when waving goodbye from the shoreline, they were actually shaking their heads at us all along. Perhaps they were, or maybe they trembled from a lack of confidence, a lack of audacity to set sail on their own. For the time being, we shall never know. It is much too late to turn back.
So we sail on into the enigmatic beyond. The infinite ocean is both our friend and nemesis, for in it we find our sanity and salvation, as well as the very worst of ourselves and the world we left behind. We love and hate our host, for the gift of freedom is in itself a curse. But in time, the curse may become a gift all its own. If we are so lucky as to survive, perhaps we shall be doubly blessed with two gifts, and not just one.
Much like the sailor who sets out on the open ocean, there is yet a certainty found amidst the wild waters. No matter what direction he sails and regardless of distance, he is guaranteed the prospect of finding land once again. A great many men have died at sea, make no mistake, but given enough resources in patience and years, the wayward traveler will eventually make his way back to terra firma, if not his own home.
However, the journey will leave him a changed man wherever he lands. Along the way he has acquired scars, both internal and external, from the struggles he faced. Friends and family alike will sneer at the blemishes. Many will seek his wisdom, but few will listen, even less will comprehend. He is forever a stranger in the most familiar of places. Such is the price that must be paid.
Upon this reflection, the individual must decide whether or not stepping into the boat is worth it at all. Does one sacrifice a life of acceptance, affection, and affirmation from those closest to him, for a chance to discover what it means to truly exist? Is it madness, or are both options equally as foolish?
I, myself, must answer with an emphatic yes. It is irresponsible to never leave the shoreline, choosing instead to live within one’s own inadequate boundaries, but it is equally as reckless to set off on the journey to begin with, relinquishing the abovementioned privileges of domesticity (acceptance, affection, affirmation). Thus, either option is reasonably viable for human existence.
But when the proverbial bell rings for you, the all-important question will be, will you die inside your whitewashed walls, or a voyager out at sea?
