This is often the problem I have in conversations: I'll either tend to be very quiet and not say anything for fear of not getting my point across correctly, in a way that is unambiguous, direct, sensitive and clear, or I'll say something straight off and be misunderstood because I worded it clumsily.
My concern about this blog post is that because it's a little complex, and likely to be lengthy, and I'm a little out of practise with structuring my thoughts in this way, it'll all be a mess of incoherence. But I'll give it a shot.
OK, here goes!
Logic, Love and Happiness
Mathematics… and growing up
When I was a kid at school I was very good at maths. It was soon noticed. I never quite understood why it was noticed that I was good at maths because to me it just didn't seem difficult. Addition, Subtraction, Multiplication and Division were merely simple steps to follow. If you understand the concept, you just followed the steps. Then you needed to understand the concept of numbers, i.e. what's the difference between '1' and '6'. Sounds pretty simple, but you need to remember that numbers don't actually exist. They're just representations of a concept. But if you can accept that notion, you're pretty much on your way. Benjamin Pierce called Mathematics "the science that draws necessary conclusions" which basically holds true for any real-world application of it (that is, in the world as we understand it and are capable of understanding it). You never start with an answer: you don't, for example, start with the belief that two plus two equals four and then work backwards to prove it: you start by asking “what happens when we add two and two together?” and draw the conclusion that it equals four by following the steps. No preconceived notions, just go where the logic takes you.
Maths is essentially logic. I learned when I attended university that maths doesn't always require numbers. It's not always quantitative, it's just a set of methods that leads from a premise to a conclusion.
The key thing about logic (and therefore maths) is that it works. Look around you... everything (and I mean, quite literally, everything) is the way it is because of maths. The clothes you're wearing (assuming you're not naked), the furniture you're sitting on (assuming you're not standing), the walls and floor of the building you're in (assuming you're not outside) only exist because of logic (I deliberately missed out “the computer you're reading this on” because if you need it pointing out to you that without maths we wouldn't have computers you should really stop reading). Even the ‘natural’ world outside is the way it is because of maths and logic (though I won’t go into that cos it’ll take me way off topic).
When you're sitting at a school desk with a teacher at the front of the room, pen and paper in hand, and you start to follow these steps towards their logical conclusion to answer questions, problems etc. you begin to notice that some people in the class are having a higher success rate at following the steps to their conclusion than others. While it's evident that all people are different, it's not easy to understand why. Some of my classmates were exceptionally talented at art, whereas I still have trouble drawing a convincing stick man. Others had a level of control over their body that made them excel in sports. Not me! And while I may envy people for the talents they have that I don't, I had my own talent and that was a knack for grasping logic. Occasionally, during a maths lesson, a friend would ask me to look at what they'd done to check they'd done it right. If you're regularly awarded with high marks, you gain a reputation for these things and people will quite naturally turn to you if they're struggling, and so it was with me. Yes, of course, these were school days, and the old juvenile disdain for achievers was always there, but it carried a level of respect too. If somebody was struggling, they would quite happily come to me and say "I can't quite get this. Can you help?" from which I'd look over their working and, if they'd made a mistake, I would quickly spot it. I'd point out the mistake, explain why the logic didn't follow, describe the step they should take instead, and explain why they should take that step, and they would be grateful. They'd also know, in future, how to tackle a similar problem whenever it cropped up.
Being able to reach a conclusion logically was useful because it's the only real surefire way of getting to the right conclusion. Because I was good at it back then, I was regarded as the brainy kid. Of course, that didn't mean shit when creating works of art, or playing at sports, or social skills or success with girls (too right!) but when a matter of logical consequence was in question, I was certainly respected because... I was usually right.
One of the things it taught me was not to jump to conclusions, or to stay firmly fixed to a belief that future evidence points away from. If you follow evidence, it generally leads you to the truth, whatever that truth might be.
Perhaps my experience at school – of seeing people excel in areas that I could only dream of, while I was naturally good at some things that others weren't so good at – should have prepared me for the experiences I have as an adult. Of course people don’t think the same way that I do, I know that. And of course people hold different beliefs and reach different conclusions to the ones that I come to, I expected that. What I wasn't prepared for was the way in which people would cling to their beliefs and conclusions despite strong contradictory evidence. It seems that when you leave school and you no longer have a teacher marking your papers and giving you a score (that you naturally want to be high) you don’t care about reaching the right conclusions anymore. Instead, people who hold beliefs tend to expend their energy on insisting their belief is right instead of simply following the logic and finding out what the truth is. This surprised me.
I do find it hard to understand it when people believe something that my logic won’t accept. My brain just doesn't work that way. I seem to be hard-wired to think the way that I do. I can't help being who I am and I wouldn't change it even if I could. Being able to reason logically is a skill that I value and treasure.
People
Maths is essentially logic. I learned when I attended university that maths doesn't always require numbers. It's not always quantitative, it's just a set of methods that leads from a premise to a conclusion.
The key thing about logic (and therefore maths) is that it works. Look around you... everything (and I mean, quite literally, everything) is the way it is because of maths. The clothes you're wearing (assuming you're not naked), the furniture you're sitting on (assuming you're not standing), the walls and floor of the building you're in (assuming you're not outside) only exist because of logic (I deliberately missed out “the computer you're reading this on” because if you need it pointing out to you that without maths we wouldn't have computers you should really stop reading). Even the ‘natural’ world outside is the way it is because of maths and logic (though I won’t go into that cos it’ll take me way off topic).
When you're sitting at a school desk with a teacher at the front of the room, pen and paper in hand, and you start to follow these steps towards their logical conclusion to answer questions, problems etc. you begin to notice that some people in the class are having a higher success rate at following the steps to their conclusion than others. While it's evident that all people are different, it's not easy to understand why. Some of my classmates were exceptionally talented at art, whereas I still have trouble drawing a convincing stick man. Others had a level of control over their body that made them excel in sports. Not me! And while I may envy people for the talents they have that I don't, I had my own talent and that was a knack for grasping logic. Occasionally, during a maths lesson, a friend would ask me to look at what they'd done to check they'd done it right. If you're regularly awarded with high marks, you gain a reputation for these things and people will quite naturally turn to you if they're struggling, and so it was with me. Yes, of course, these were school days, and the old juvenile disdain for achievers was always there, but it carried a level of respect too. If somebody was struggling, they would quite happily come to me and say "I can't quite get this. Can you help?" from which I'd look over their working and, if they'd made a mistake, I would quickly spot it. I'd point out the mistake, explain why the logic didn't follow, describe the step they should take instead, and explain why they should take that step, and they would be grateful. They'd also know, in future, how to tackle a similar problem whenever it cropped up.
Being able to reach a conclusion logically was useful because it's the only real surefire way of getting to the right conclusion. Because I was good at it back then, I was regarded as the brainy kid. Of course, that didn't mean shit when creating works of art, or playing at sports, or social skills or success with girls (too right!) but when a matter of logical consequence was in question, I was certainly respected because... I was usually right.
One of the things it taught me was not to jump to conclusions, or to stay firmly fixed to a belief that future evidence points away from. If you follow evidence, it generally leads you to the truth, whatever that truth might be.
Perhaps my experience at school – of seeing people excel in areas that I could only dream of, while I was naturally good at some things that others weren't so good at – should have prepared me for the experiences I have as an adult. Of course people don’t think the same way that I do, I know that. And of course people hold different beliefs and reach different conclusions to the ones that I come to, I expected that. What I wasn't prepared for was the way in which people would cling to their beliefs and conclusions despite strong contradictory evidence. It seems that when you leave school and you no longer have a teacher marking your papers and giving you a score (that you naturally want to be high) you don’t care about reaching the right conclusions anymore. Instead, people who hold beliefs tend to expend their energy on insisting their belief is right instead of simply following the logic and finding out what the truth is. This surprised me.
I do find it hard to understand it when people believe something that my logic won’t accept. My brain just doesn't work that way. I seem to be hard-wired to think the way that I do. I can't help being who I am and I wouldn't change it even if I could. Being able to reason logically is a skill that I value and treasure.
People
If I had to describe, very simply, what makes me happy, it would be people. More specifically, connecting with people. Having a simple conversation, discussing ideas, a light-hearted chat, physical intimacy, a shared experience… these are the things that make me happy. Seeing someone else happy makes me happy too. Mutual trust and understanding makes me happy. And I see the potential for all of these things in all people.
Here's a quote from Albert Einstein to help me illustrate my point:
Here's a quote from Albert Einstein to help me illustrate my point:
Strange is our situation here on Earth. Each of us comes for a short visit, not knowing why, yet sometimes seeming to divine a purpose. From the standpoint of daily life, however, there is one thing we do know: that man is here for the sake of other men - above all for those upon whose smiles and well being our own happiness depends.
Smart guy, that Einstein fella. Said and did a lot of clever things. This, however, just seems like plain common sense to me. I can't fathom the notion of a person who can be indifferent to the feelings and sensitivities of those around them, especially the ones we love (though I am aware that people like this exist and are known as sociopaths). To see a loved-one happy is to be happy. To see a loved-one in distress or unhappy can be heartbreaking.
I saw a film recently called ‘Into The Wild’. If you haven’t seen it I highly recommend it, it’s beautiful. There was a quote from that film that struck a chord with me and, without giving anything of the plot away, I’ll briefly put this quote into context: this young guy spends a lot of time alone in the wild and, at the end of the movie, he writes in his notebook “Happiness only real when shared.” This is a sentiment I can understand. I recently read a blog post (I won’t say who, but if you’re reading you’ll probably recognise yourself) about a couple taking a trip to Brighton together. The girl writing described the places they went to, the things they did and showed photos. I remember looking and reading and smiling, thinking “that looks so cool and fun. I’d like to go there and see that.” But then I remembered I’d be missing out on the key thing that would make it enjoyable, i.e. somebody to enjoy it with. As of the past few months, I no longer have a partner. An experience - any experience - is greatly reduced, almost to the point of meaninglessness, if you don’t share it with the right person. Well, it’s like that for me anyway.
Sometimes I read something or see something, or find myself in a place that makes me think “Wow, this is amazing/beautiful/funny/so true!” When those moments are shared with somebody you care about, it’s a much warmer feeling.
Skepticism
Skepticism is defined in many different ways, often characterized by the notion of “universal doubt”, or the idea that we cannot really and truly know anything. While I accept this definition and agree with it, perhaps a more fitting description of the real-world application of the skeptical attitude would be a worldview where beliefs are based on evidence and are subject to change in the face of any new evidence that may arise. That sounds reasonable, doesn't it?
To some extent, everybody is skeptical. We all know about beliefs that somebody else has that we don't share. The most obvious example to me would be religious belief: nobody believes in ALL religions, you're either one religion or none at all. If you're a Sikh, you're skeptical about Buddha and Muhammad; if you're a Christian, you're skeptical of Guru Nanak and Krishna and Vishnu. In fact, if you belong to any religion, then you're skeptical about all others except your own. But I use religion just as an example because it's the most commonplace (and most accepted) non-evidence-based belief-system in our culture. Many other such examples exist: alternative medicine; mediumship; grand conspiracy theories; UFO encounters and alien abductions; cryptozoology; marketing scams; destiny; the list goes on and on!
Voltaire once said:
To some extent, everybody is skeptical. We all know about beliefs that somebody else has that we don't share. The most obvious example to me would be religious belief: nobody believes in ALL religions, you're either one religion or none at all. If you're a Sikh, you're skeptical about Buddha and Muhammad; if you're a Christian, you're skeptical of Guru Nanak and Krishna and Vishnu. In fact, if you belong to any religion, then you're skeptical about all others except your own. But I use religion just as an example because it's the most commonplace (and most accepted) non-evidence-based belief-system in our culture. Many other such examples exist: alternative medicine; mediumship; grand conspiracy theories; UFO encounters and alien abductions; cryptozoology; marketing scams; destiny; the list goes on and on!
Voltaire once said:
Those who can make you believe absurdities can make you commit atrocities.
We've seen this all the way through history and it’s brought right up to date when young men fly aeroplanes into buildings or detonate bombs on underground trains. But as well as making you the oppressor or the terrorist, it can also make you a victim. Many have died or suffered needlessly as a result of their rejection of conventional medicine in favour of “alternative” therapies, or lost their life savings because of some marketing scam. This is what skepticism protects you from.
The Closet
Skepticism and Logic are inseparably connected and so, just as I was always naturally good with maths and logic, so it follows that I've always been a skeptic. Even as a kid, I never believed in Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy without the evidence. I was so scientifically minded even then that I used to try to test the hypothesis. I admit, I was a little baffled at how the tooth I’d placed under my pillow seemed to turn into a coin without me waking in the night, but as each tooth fell out I would be more and more determined to test the hypothesis by trying as hard as I could not to fall asleep in order to catch one of my parents making the switch. I never managed to catch the Tooth Fairy, but I did eventually manage to catch my dad sneaking into my room with some presents the night before Christmas and I was satisfied. My hypothesis was supported, the Santa hypothesis was falsified. No Santa.
Although I was baptised as a child, my home was pretty much a religion-free zone. It wasn't outright denied, it just simply wasn't an issue. Not on the radar. Then, still a kid, I joined the Scouts, and part of being a Scout was church attendance on a Sunday. Not every Sunday, I think it was once a month or something like that, but I remember then a feeling of pointlessness when I could have been riding my bike or climbing a tree. At around the same time, I remember several occasions of calling out to the skies, challenging God to hit me with a lightening bolt, but no such bolts ever came.
And so my metaphysical beliefs remained unchanged the duration of my life: no compelling evidence to pull me away from the null hypothesis.
Then you start to notice a few things about the world around you:
The first important thing you notice is that people argue all the time about their differences of opinion - whether it’s political or ideological or economical - and rarely, if ever, are people aggrieved by the challenges their opponents may pose to their way of thinking. This seems true of different schools of thought on economic issues, for example, or any way of thinking that’s arrived at through contemplation and reason, but any belief arrived at through emotion or desire, that isn't supported by evidence, goes unchallenged. As a kid, you ask questions anyway, through naïveté, not knowing that the questions you ask make people uncomfortable. Then as you grow, you get a sense of what you should question and what you shouldn't… if you want to avoid upsetting people, that is. And, going back to my section entitled “People”, you may correctly suppose that I didn't like to upset people, so I’d tend to keep my mouth shut.
The second important thing you begin to notice is that there seems to be a lot of stupid and needless harm being done because people are unwilling to question certain things. Growing up in 80s/90s UK there was a lot of talk about the “troubles” in Northern Ireland. The IRA were the al-Qaeda of the time for us back then, the bogeymen flashed all over the news that are “coming to get you!” with their bombs. So naturally, you ask why they’re fighting, and who is fighting. “Well, it’s the Protestants and the Catholics.” This made no sense to me. I’d been baptised into the Church of England which apparently made me, technically, a Protestant, while my next-door neighbour and best friend at the time was a Catholic (at least in the sense that his parents were Catholic and he went to a Catholic school). Why weren't we killing each other? After a while, you learn to stop asking questions cos none of the answers make any sense.
It reminds me of a line from one of George Carlin’s stand up shows:
Military cemeteries around the world are packed with brainwashed, dead soldiers who were convinced God was on their side. America prays for God to destroy our enemies, our enemies pray for God to destroy us. Somebody’s gonna be disappointed! Somebody’s wasting their fucking time! Could it be… everyone?
When somebody close to me told me once that they were going to see a homeopath I just stood there blinking. I kinda couldn't believe it, but I didn't question it. OK, so they believe in something that’s a little bit crazy. What do I say to that? (On a side note, I once visited a doctor when I was around 20ish about concerns over my vocal chords and he said it was fine, rest my voice a little is all that is necessary, but that if I wanted I could also try going to a place where they did homeopathic remedies and gave me some details on a piece of paper. At the time, like before, I just sat there blinking, thinking “What? A medically trained doctor prescribing homeopathy?” I left quietly and didn't bother with the magic water but, needless to say, if that happened again now I wouldn't leave without issuing a serious complaint!) Once again, when you believe something based on no evidence, nobody questions you. Why?
I think I figured out the answer to this recently: it’s impolite because it embarrasses the person you are questioning. They are embarrassed because they know what they believe, but they don’t know why they believe. A belief based on true premises and logic is a conclusion and can be supported confidently. A belief not based on logical reasoning is faith and can only be supported through a stubborn refusal to accept the possibility of one’s own fallibility.
Lets bring this last point back to the first two sections of this essay:
1. Growing up, I was used to people around me being open-minded and willing to accept the fact that sometimes they may be wrong and that if their reasoning was unsound they were grateful for any help where they may have made a mistake in order to get closer to the truth.
2. I like to see people happy. I don’t like to embarrass people. And I’d seen now that all the things I’d learned were useful as a kid were no longer useful if you wanted people to like you.
In short, I learned what was right and then decided that I’m not gonna live by what’s right. I’m gonna live instead by lying to people in order to tell them what they want to hear instead of the truth because they seem to be happier that way - despite how wrong I can clearly see that to be, despite the harm it can do, and despite how unhappy it makes me.
Sometimes, the truth is inconvenient.
Coming out
Then a couple of years ago I read two books which, it would be fair to say, changed me in quite a profound way.
The first was “Tricks of the Mind” by Derren Brown. It was brilliant, an absolute joy to read! Before I read that, I don’t remember a time when I finished a book and immediately returned to page 1 to start all over again. I've always been a fan of magic and mystery and fascinated by the art of deception and how the mind works, particularly our power to delude ourselves. But that book was a Trojan horse: it started by talking about magic and the art of the magician, but it was unlike any magic book I’d ever read. It went into the mind of the spectator and covered in incredible detail the way that tricks are set up by good magicians in order to lead peoples thoughts in a certain way until it gets to the point where the spectator is doing most of the actual fooling work themselves. A person can fool themselves much more convincingly than anybody else can.
I could go on about it, but the key thing about that book that had an effect on me was the final section entitled “Anti-science, Pseudoscience and Bad Thinking”. It outlined the skeptical outlook nicely and really fired up my passion for clear, rational thinking. But I won’t explain why until I get onto the second book that changed me: “The God Delusion” by Richard Dawkins.
Although it’s focus was, as the name suggests, on matters of religion, it is really simply a promotion of rational, critical thinking. In terms of the conclusions the book drew, it didn’t really tell me anything that I didn’t already know. As a professor of evolutionary biology, of course, he filled some of the gaps in my knowledge and understanding of evolution, and that was fascinating, but what I found so refreshing was the way that he didn’t hold back from speaking honestly. The reader is never treated as somebody who needs to be comforted or reassured over your fears: you’re treated with respect. Not in the sense of respect for your beliefs or ideas, but respect for your ability to think, to reason, to be brave and independent. Your intelligence is never insulted. It spoke very plainly about all the things you know but shy away from saying: that the troubles in Northern Ireland are worsened by nationalism and religion; that female circumcision (and male infant circumcision for that matter) is something barbaric that we shouldn’t accept and turn a blind eye to simply because of an ancient belief system; that teaching kids in schools that the Earth is only 6,000 years old (or any unsubstantiated claim as fact) is a gross disservice to the children; and that following faith blindly can - and often does - lead, as Voltaire put it, to atrocities. For anybody who really cares about people (see above) it becomes clear that, uncomfortable as it may sometimes be, sometimes you really do have to be honest with people and tell them the truth.
I’ll give you an example of how this honesty ties in with love:
Below is a video of a “Kiai Master” fighting a young MMA fighter. You can watch if you like, but I’ll briefly summarize the main points if you can’t be bothered.
1. This guy is a fighter who harnesses the power of “qi” (pronounced chee) . In the opening few seconds of the video, we see him using his powers on his students that he has trained. We see them rushing to attack him, only for him to “knock them down” without touching them by simply waving in their general direction. Next, we see him apparently fighting one of his students from a distance, knocking the poor guy about all over the place.
2. Impressed with his own power, he offers to fight anybody with a $5,000 dollar prize for anybody who can beat him. Of course, nobody will be able to beat him because he will simply knock them down before they even get close to him.
3. A young guy trained in Mixed Martial Arts (MMA) says Sure, I’ll fight you! He doesn’t believe in qi and thinks the teacher’s students have simply been influenced by his charisma. He hasn’t “drunk the dojo kool-aid.”
4. The fight starts... and the young MMA fighter kicks the crap out of the old man.
(The audio and video are slightly out of sync, making some of the strikes look weaker than they actually are. The MMA fighter makes strikes at approximately 2:20 and 2:50, which are followed a few seconds later by a 'crack' sound. That had to hurt!)
I heard this video being discussed on a podcast and one of the people commenting said “You know what these people are missing in their lives? They’re missing people who really love them.” And it makes sense to me. Before that old man stepped into the ring to be battered by a fit, highly-trained young fighter, where was this guy’s wife to say “Honey… you don’t have magic powers!” Where were his real friends, as opposed to his students who were so heavily influenced by his charisma that they fell into the belief system he was promoting, unable to discern fantasy from reality?
If I announced that I could fly and that I was going to prove it tomorrow by gathering a crowd together at the Empire State Building to see my amazing demonstration where I will leap from the roof, flap my arms and soar around the city’s skyline, I think a lot of people would probably turn up to view the spectacle, a lot of people probably just wouldn’t care, and a few people who really cared about me would say “Blake... you can’t fly. No seriously, you can’t! Don’t do this, PLEASE!!”
The people who care are the ones that give you the reality check.
So why is it that when somebody is about to do something that is clearly harmful or wrong or dangerous do we keep quiet if their reason for doing it is based on a non-evidence based belief?
There comes a point where you have to be brave and accept that by speaking out, some people aren’t gonna like what you have to say. My “coming out”, as I called it in the title of this section is about coming out as a skeptic, borrowed, of course, from the now common phrase used when gay or bisexual people become open about their sexuality. Why is it important to come out? Any “out” gay person will tell you that: you need to be true to yourself. Putting myself in their position, I can’t imagine what it’d be like to spend a whole lifetime pretending to be one thing when really you’re something else, maybe even getting married and having kids, and all the time knowing that you can never have the life you really want simply because you can’t just be open and honest.
In some small way, we can all identify with that. There are aspects of all of us that we don’t want to make public for fear of how others will see us or how our views or opinions might upset those around us. Reading those books gave me the confidence to start speaking more openly about the things I believe in.
Happiness
The unexamined life is not worth living…
- Socrates
I have never really respected myself. How can you respect yourself when you know something is wrong and yet you go along with it anyway, or keep quiet about it? You really get to the point where you think “what is the point in me being here?”
And really, if you go along like that, there is no point. For many, many years I just couldn't see the point in living: not in the seriously depressed sense - I was actually quite happy for the majority of the time - but in the “existentialist crisis” sense. I just felt like there was no point. Whenever I sat and really thought deeply and philosophically about things, that was always my conclusion: there is no point. I might as well be dead.
I hung on though because my survival instinct was too strong; and besides, there was always enough going on to distract me: there was a lot of fun to be had and quite often I had it! I had friends that made me laugh, things coming up that I could get involved in and look forward to. I had a pretty good life. But always, always lacking that self-respect.
The root of that feeling of lack of self-respect comes from feeling unable to muster the courage to say what's really on your mind for fear of being judged, or upsetting people. When I finally found that courage, everything changed. I could be 100% open and honest. I never felt judged. My parents (I was living at home at the time) said later that around that time they noticed changes in me that they couldn’t quite explain. I certainly felt more confident and happy with the new-found comfort I had with myself.
In the midst of that time, I remember thinking “It really is a beautiful world after all!” I put that on my phone as a welcome note a few years ago so that I would see it every time I switched my phone back on again. It was my reminder that if I ever felt down again to remember those feelings that I had when I was being at my most open and honest, the most important being a feeling that I could go through another twenty-odd years of feeling the way I did my whole life just for this feeling again. This is worth everything. Every moment of pain, every feeling of self-doubt, everything bad ever ever ever in the past twenty-odd years because I feel like this right now! I don’t switch my phone off very often, so it’s rare that I see it and I always forget it’s there, but every time that I do see it, it works. No matter how shit I’m feeling at the time, no matter how crap my day has been, it reminds me of that time and how amazing life can feel.
I have somebody now who understands me and will support me and give me the confidence I need to speak plainly when it’s necessary and to live my life the way that I see as right: myself.
As I go through my life now I will say things that may lose me friends, things that might get me in trouble, things that will upset the people I care about the most. But I won’t stop saying them. If my friend thinks he can fight using the power of “qi”, I will give him the reality check he needs to avoid getting his face smashed in; I’ll be the voice that shatters a friend’s belief that they can fly if it’ll stop them leaping out of a window; I’ll explain how “alternative medicine” works to somebody who is trying something whacky because they’re afraid of getting the operation that their doctor says they need.
I hope I won’t end up alone. I have a lot of love to give and I want to give it as much as I can. But I know that I’m setting myself up for a bumpy ride and whoever wants to join me better be prepared for the same thing. Maybe I’ll never find someone like that.
But I will have that self-respect. And I’ll be happy.
I’m happy now…. And life is definitely worth living.
"Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me truth."- Henry David Thoreu
(Final point)
This has been tough to write and I freely admit that there may be some mistakes in there. If I’ve got anything factually wrong, or made any mistakes in my reasoning, then please comment and criticise. I don’t claim any authority on any of these matters, this is just the way that things seem to me. However, I have put a lot of thought into this, so if you do criticise, make sure you get the logic right. I’ll spot it if you don’t.
