Truth, bliss, and an epicure

I had an invigorating discussion over the last weekend with a very good friend of mine, which has now been sufficiently digested to be summarized in a blog.

Here's how it started... we were at Crossword (bookstore) and over some coffee and doughnuts, I'd managed to skim through two books that I have loved to hate for some time now. I'd finally decided to find out why I hated them. The books in question? “The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari” by Robin Sharma, and “Ageless Body, Timeless Mind” by Deepak Chopra. **hacks** **cough, cough**

So anyway... after an unbearable 5 pages from each book, I got to talking about how these buggers take everything from ancient philosophical traditions (respectable and otherwise) and advanced science and mix it up to serve to an ardent, mostly foolish readership...

Now, this friend of mine is someone who (claims to) have compared advanced physics and eastern mysticism (I, the egotist, have a feeling the “research” extended as far as reading Fritjof Capra...) and so he asked me how I felt about such mysticism. I told him I rejected it.

Then he proceeded to poke holes in my own rationalist philosophy (dated summarization available here), which I had built after substantial research (western, Indian and Chinese philosophies) and introspection and reflection. He pointed out to me that while some years ago, when I authored the philosophy, I was searching for the “truth” - a cogent description of the purpose and mechanism of the physical and intangible, personal and macroscopic, universe - I have now abandoned it. I have reconciled with the existence of contradictions in my “rational” worldview and live in a kind of artificial bliss, which is an end in itself.

In short, I have become an epicure. (Funny, that he should choose a word that I have worked into the name of the protagonist of my latest unfinished novella!) Auxiliary proof here.

The thing is, I am at a stage in my life when this bliss pervades more than just the philosophical thought arena. I am blissful in my career, my personal life... just about everywhere. And I know there are contradictions in this blissful worldview, which I consciously ignore. I ignore them, because when I don't ignore them, in some areas at least, I unleash a destructive force I don't care to face again.

Is this wrong? Is it wrong to be content and not continuously undertake what could be an ultimately endless journey? Historically, human innovation and endeavour happened out of discontent with or rejection of existing realities. Am I stunting my own growth as a person by being content? These are tough questions to ask, and hence this horribly long rant.

As Fox Mulder would say – “the Truth is out there...”