Certainty is a feeling, not a fact

The truth is what we believe for now

"I used to think the human brain was the most wonderful organ in my body. Then I realized who was telling me this."

–Emo Philips

How certain are you that the Earth revolves around the sun?

Take a breath and consider what you know. You (presumably) haven't done the requisite calculations. You (likely) haven't left this planet to inspect the situation for yourself. Instead, you (probably) earned your certainty from the lips of a pants-wearing primate whom you have no reason to doubt.

Certainty is a feeling, not a fact. It's a story. (To be precise, it’s a love story with something you want to believe.) Such stories are worth holding with a relaxed grip, because everything becomes Jessica eventually.

Now, the prescription here is not a suppository of endless Cartesian skepticism. This is merely a reminder:

That feeling in your chest is the exact same feeling felt by your dead wrong ancestors. Certainty wasn't invented in 1947. Human hardware has been the same for an eon. Pants-wearing primates of yore were certain that the sun revolved around the Earth, or that "there be dragons," or that you should never, ever, wear brown shoes with a black belt.

You might think your ancestors fools, but they are us. Someday the object of your certainty may be revealed to be smoke. You may even wake one day to the impossible.

It is not enough to be open minded. Because certainty is a feeling, you must open your heart as well. The truth is what we believe for now. The heart of that sentence is "we."

You must make space for all of the world's stories, even the ones you can't yet feel with certainty.