The Crossroads of Mental Illness and Philosophy

The Unalome—a Buddhist symbol for the path to enlightenment.

At the time I got the tattoo, it meant, for me, the notion that everyone has their own intimately diverse path, but that each and every one is essentially leading to the very same place; enlightenment.

Shit has since gotten a little bit shady since my sincere certainty in that prospect of utter certainty. Tonight I found myself wondering what exactly enlightenment even means to me anymore. Is it objectively the same for every individual? Or more likely, is it some varying ideal completely subjective to each person? I’m sure some people are most vehemently opposed to even the idea of anything so mystical as enlightenment in this scientific age of ours.

As much as I’d like to persist in my certainty that there can be an objective ideal for all of mankind to strive for, I can no longer claim the same sincerity I once held. Call it my integrity or my passion, it doesn’t really matter which. The end result is still me being thoroughly unable to cling to any such notion I can find fault with. I mean yes, I do so dearly wish that I could still remain confident in the ideal my philosophical guide so championed. I feel constantly as if I am nothing but a disappointment in her eyes anymore. But we do not live in a world as it ought to be. We live in a reality that's just it.

I can no longer claim with certainty that everyone’s path is leading them to the same destination. Heck, I’m not even sure if there is even a destination anymore.

Yet I stand by the tattoo on my chest; even if it now only symbolizes my own subjective path to enlightenment. Because for whatever reason I can’t seem to fathom still, I feel as if I am meant for something. Like I’m wandering somewhere. And you know I’m sorry (Ayn) Rand, but my only claim to this vague sense of certainty I do still retain is only because I feel it. That may not be good enough for you or your philosophy, but honestly, it is sometimes the only thing keeping me alive. So it’s damn well good enough for me.

I previously supposed that enlightenment was synonymous with truth; the divine truth, that is. I have since lost my confidence in any sort of objective truth, but instead of losing myself to the darkness of existence without purpose, the void of the unknown, I chose to ask myself what exactly is pushing me on? All wanderers, whether physical or intellectual, have some sort of force driving them on; some sort of aspiration rousing them from their comfortable stability and pushing them out and into the depths of the unknown.

So I asked myself, what’s my driving force? It doesn’t have to be big or great. Not some concrete thing or even an ideal that’s rational. But Meg, you’re lost in the depths of the abyss here with no path, all alone, without even the suggestion of a way forward. You’ll be lost to madness if you fail yourself here… Think, what led you out on this journey in the first place? From what crevice did the strength to open that door of what is easy to what is... unknown, right, good maybe? I suppose if I knew the answer to that one, philosophy would cease to be an active field anymore. Emanate in the first place. And there in the steaming shower, as I gazed down at my Unalome nestled between the valley of my breasts, it came to me. I’m searching for meaning. Meaning of/for what I’m not exactly sure yet; the meaning of life maybe? The very same aspiration driving every single philosopher on before me? Or maybe just the meaning of my own meager little life. I honestly can’t say yet.

But what I can say now is that I’ve got an ideal once again. Mental illness may have stolen my previous claims of certainty. It may have broken every last conception I had of my place and myself in this life here, but it has not robbed me of my will to live. Not yet, at least. Because you see, I’m still searching for something here. I am no longer following the steps of any great thinkers that came before me. I am no longer wandering the intellectual path of previous philosophers. My path is all my own now, as lonely and empowering as that may be. My path is in the pursuit of meaning.