I’ve made it my goal in life to become an intellectual giant.
Not only to crush old and feeble ideas, the ideas that shouldn’t be living still, that hold us in some past that we pretend to have moved on from, or an idealized as a golden age of living that never existed, when things were “right” (
for a tiny minority of the population. Cross that out, the picture perfect nuclear family.).
But I dream of becoming a giant because I never want to be afraid of a thought. No idea should be overwhelming. But the truth is, ideas can kill. Give a bad idea to anyone, and watch her tip. It works the same with good ideas. Ideas that are strong and true, but too heavy. Too much for some people to hold. Take away identity. Take away freedom. Watch her tip. And I tipped with her. Ideas turned me into a child again. The same four year old crying because I thought I had been abandoned. This time it wasn’t my parents who I thought left me behind. It was myself. Ideas took me away from me. They’re bigger. And some are dangerously wrong. But even the right ones are stronger than we admit. I hid from them as long as I could. I was traveling from foxhole to foxhole. Carving out bunkers any time I stopped moving. Only getting a glimpse of the monster before ducking behind denial. The safety inherent in old ideas. The comfort of being pacified by your own mind. Nothing too drastic to break us out of ourselves. We hold concrete ideas of who we are. It’s hard to convince the mind that it’s wrong.
Until I become a giant and no thought scares me. I’ll be able to lose or gain any at any time. I’ll be strong.