For many, possibly all of us, to be a human being is to be in a state of vacillation between intense “knowing” and extreme doubt. Whether it’s conditioning or something innate, humans want to know who we are, why we are here and where we are going. Thus, we search for clues. Some adhere to religious belief, trusting in a universal, undistorted truth and fearing that to engage independent thought would condemn them to some form of suffering that might even be eternal. Others make a new religion of Science, adamant that it will eventually rationally answer all questions, magically free of politics, human manipulations and human error. Atheism and agnosticism are the refuge of others, possibly because they find competing truths so confusing or constricting and at odds with their own impulses, intuitions or sense of justice. Maybe, also, they rebel against earlier experience at the hands of religious zealots or hypocrites.

Such is life on this planet that when we do have experiences that the consensus declares unusual or impossible we question our own perceptions and even our sanity. We know through experience that the equipment may be faulty: we age, our eyes fail, our hearts fail and, so, we may be prone to distrusting our own experiences. We know of others around us who experience reality in a way that bears no semblance to the majority, those deemed insane, and we fear such a fate for ourselves. We may have spiritual experiences that are entirely compelling and life altering at the time but because we are subject to time and change, they become somehow less possible as we move further from them. Thus, we vacillate. We hang on to these memories in the hope such direct experiences evidence a benevolent organising force or some latent human power that will ultimately evolve and transform life on the planet. We may alternately fear that such experiences were merely tricks of the body chemistry. Then we find ourselves again wondering if they are indicators of spiritual progress along a particular path and we wait, anticipating events that will further confirm a newly emerging worldview.

In the meantime, we develop disciplines around our beliefs, convincing ourselves that such experiences derive from our merit or lack thereof. Like the superstitious behaviour of lab pigeons fed intermittently for no particular reason, we create cause-and-effect scenarios. We engage in endless speculation with other seekers, even arguing adamantly over matters of belief because our heart or gut or head tells us something is true and their heart or gut or head tells them something else is true. Then, sometimes, someone else points out that we’re merely blindfolded and describing different parts of the elephant.

Or, we don’t engage in the debates because we’ve done that mentally with ourselves before and we see nothing new on offer, besides, some things aren’t about words, no matter how articulately you express them, and it’s easy to be suspicious of those who sell you something counter-intuitive simply because they’re clever with words.

Do we ever hear about mystics who spent a lifetime searching only to end life disappointed? Surely there are those who do not find what they’re seeking before they pass. There must be others too who never fully understand what they’re actually yearning for and probably those who grow enough in the process of seeking to realise what they sought wasn’t worth the effort.

And what if you were to develop a range of godlike paranormal abilities? Would that make you more important or special than you would have otherwise been? Would it mean you would be sought as a wise one or would you risk being just a “resounding gong"; "a clanging cymbal”? And if you could, would it mean you’d be prepared to enable the rest of humanity to attain what you had attained or would you, like Daedalus, envious that your student might surpass you, hoard it in order to maintain power and status?