27. Uncertainty Is

Certainty seems beyond my reach. My knowledge of the world is always limited, always finite, always subjective. To claim certainty would imply I have somehow managed to transcend these limitations. But this kind of transcendence does not seem possible for a human being like me. There is always some degree of uncertainty that remains in everything I know. To say I am certain would be a lie.

When I am dishonest, I suffer because I am forced to battle with reality itself. I try to live out my lies against reality, but reality is ruthless and it always wins. I want to be certain because I have needs that must be satisfied and satisfying those needs is far more feasible in an environment of relative certainty, where I can know what worked yesterday will also work today. To the extent that I desire my continued existence, I also desire certainty. Anxiety arises whenever I encounter the very real uncertainty that opposes my desire, and so I suffer.

To overcome my anxiety I might want to dismiss uncertainty. I might try to convince myself that I really am certain. I might try to pretend that the likelihood of the truth being any different from what I know is so minuscule as to be unworthy of consideration. But doing any of these things would mean telling myself further lies that would produce further anxiety and suffering.

Uncertainty is the condition of my existence. Anything could happen, including my death at this very moment. If I cannot accept the contingency of everything, including my own existence, I am forced into dishonesty, which in turn traps me in suffering. Perhaps this is too much to accept. But how well can I possibly live when I am constantly stuck in a trap?