Stirring Point

I’ve spent large chunks of my life in states of delusion. Not the hard, debilitating delusion that schizophrenia induces. And not hallucinatory delusions brought on by a drug-fueled frenzy. Like most people, I suffer from soft, arrogant delusions that compel me to believe I’m something different from what I actually am in the world. Delusional behavior, in a broad sense, equates to “having ideas or beliefs that are not based in reality,” and that tracks for me. How about you?

Most of us live in fantasy worlds, delusional in our abilities and broadcasting a version of ourselves we believe exists. Most boys don’t get into fights thinking they’ll lose. There are people who barely exercise and stand convinced they can muscle their way through a marathon. Many of us spend hours arguing points in our minds against invisible opponents with whom we disagree. We’re always right in those arguments, aren’t we?

While we don’t know its origins, consciousness seems to be a subjective overlay upon reality we use to interpret the world. Not only is it the lightswitch in the room, but it’s also the way we explain the furniture’s arrangement and color selections. Delusions distort reality through our projections. And while delusion may give us the confidence to get off the couch and run a marathon entirely unprepared, most of us don’t. From a self-preservation standpoint, that’s good. But self-preservation is hardly the reason for our inaction. Rather, we buy belief in ourselves by the empty gallon, latching narratives to bets about who we think we are—not who we really are. I, the great debater, have a far more sophisticated view on politics than that bozo at the gym. I, the soon-to-be distance runner, need to put in a training run or two, and that marathon is in the bag. I, the untrained Joe, could easily take out that big fella in the corner with one punch. It’s childish thinking that many of us fail to outgrow. We walk through the world with these distortions, fortunate our mettle is rarely tested. And when it is, we usually pay with real consequences. 

But we should test our mettle with structure (forgoing the one punch example). We need to face our delusions in order to inch our minds closer to reality. And what’s an efficient way to face delusional beliefs? Seeking resistance.

Resistance is a vital tool for accessing the heart of truth. Physically, emotionally, and intellectually accepting resistance is a way to shed light on our response to hardship. A response tells us where our feet are planted, and by identifying the delusion and embracing resistance, we’re given a chance to push back. What you’re capable of, what you can handle, what narrative you rhapsodize about your life—this is where you test your theories. Pass or fail, the imperative is to experiment with our unfounded beliefs by pressing weight against their seams. It’s about wiping the rust from metal, rinsing our thoughts in solvent, and locating our one, inscrutable base. From here, we build strength, formed atop a bedrock of time-tested strength.

Arrogant delusions are dangerous, but timid delusions are deadly for our growth. I’m too old, too tired, too ugly, too stupid. Brick-by-brick, these negative thoughts build walls of immeasurable height, shutting us down before we dare to begin. We repeat these phrases like mantras and slowly convert them into entrenched beliefs. And we pass these habits on to our children like damaged DNA, instilling our fears and hesitations in them like a cancer that’ll grow with time.

Resistance functions like a flashlight—one we should use to illuminate our delusions. A hard workout that displays the truth about your fitness; a conversation with an astute expert in a field you’re certain you understand; submitting to an uncomfortable position and learning to breathe before wiggling your way out. We pay a tax to upend our delusions, but it’s money well spent.

There are some delusions we shouldn’t test, and those should be clear to anyone of sound mind. It’s the delusions born from excuses, laziness, fear, and ego that demand our attention. When they pop up, we should slide them under the microscope and inspect their character. Then, we should add resistance and challenge their structure. A great joy comes from watching them collapse like the sandcastles they are. Often, they require no great wave to strip them bare. The slow roll of a rising tide does the job just fine.