This is a post.

As strange as this may sound, I have doubted everything before in ways much similar to Descartes’ methods; though it was not necessarily as intentional and systematic as Descartes, it has transformed the way I’ve thought ever since.

Think about it: how much of your life do you really remember? What do you really know about your existence apart from what your parents, Sunday school teachers, and textbooks have told you?

Perhaps it was not my past that made me question everything as much as it was my life and struggles at the time. It was as if I did not recognize where I was or what I was doing, and for a moment even my name seemed the most absurd thought, and I recognized it even less than the world around me. It felt like a dream—like insignificance. How do I know that I even exist? Everything I ever knew was only based on my personal perception; this is when I began to wonder if it were ever possible to be completely certain of anything—if in fact there could ever be such a thing as absolute truth.

I could not think this way for long, though. Just as Descartes deduced, our very thinking is a certainty because we think it to be certain. It reaffirms itself. And truth is something that we long for, something that our soul needs, and to deny its absolute existence is not only foolish but also impossible.

Though it can leave us in a whirlwind of thought and confusion, it gives me a glimmer of hope: first of all, because I feel somewhat less crazy for having pondered these things, and secondly, because I find the answer to be so very beautiful. We exist, and that is certain; knowing that beyond a doubt leads us on to search for God, purpose, etc.

Going through the darkness allows us to appreciate the light so much more; we dare not forget the questions, lest we cease to appreciate the answer.

--Danielle

And I commented on Bethan's.