If I can admit I don’t know, I am someone who can be taught.

If I can evaluate and measure, I am someone who can assess.

If I can initiate action, I am someone who can solve.

The arguments that sway me are borne from results and example.  I’m drawn to those who don’t just articulate principles, but embody them.  And so this is how I try to frame my arguments:  by achieving my objectives. 

(It’s actually pretty relaxing.  I get stuff done, and unless it pertains to a specific task, I don’t need to argue at all, unless I choose to.)

I don’t claim to be “detached from my body” or “spiritual (or not).” 

I see [diet/spirituality exercise/writing/school/work/sleep/meditation/all activities] as interrelated pieces that bring me toward harmony.  Ultimately, I see the time and focus I apportion to each of them as my best expression of being.

Regardless of how fast I’ve run or how cleverly I’ve hidden, pain and suffering have found me and punished me without fail. 

But when I stand tall, admit fault, figure out why something happened and decide on a sound course of action to address it accordingly, I find that pain and suffering were never really my enemies.

They were just good training.

Man, in the short term, being angry and righteous feels SO good! 

But unless it’s the rare exception where those two qualities are actually useful, I’d rather focus on achieving my objective.

For me, the greatest pleasure comes not from short-term gratification, but from engaging in a pursuit that may be painful, that may induce suffering, but ultimately, makes pain and suffering into worthwhile burdens.

The rough ore of pain and failure holds great potential, for through introspection and experimentation, we can turn that ore into the polished gem of realized insight and applicable knowledge.

To those who feed their darkness by refusing to acknowledge it, light becomes a source of ignorance, and transcendence remains an unknowable riddle.

I used to be addicted to the rush of [epiphanies/triumph/flow state/etc.] but they always faded away, and were always replaced by two timeless needs:  the need for discipline, and the need for strategy. 

Now, as I continue to embrace those two “unsexy” qualities, I realize that the feel-good rush I used to crave was only half of the coin, and beneath all the suffering and triumph, all the pleasure and pain, I can tap into something harmonious, if I only humble myself to accept it through all conduits. 

I’m not sure if it’s even a real thing.  But if it is I’d rather leave it nameless and faceless; that seems the best way to respect and channel it.

This is, so far, the best approach I have seen that applies to chaos/ambiguity:

1.  Adopt the strongest, most flexible position:  I Don’t Know.  (This makes me humble, and allows me to consider all angles)

2.  Decide on what is most likely to be functional.

3.  Adjust my position in accordance with step 2 (Sometimes, it just goes back to I Don’t Know.) and decide what action, if any, is warranted.

So far, this keeps me humble and clear-headed, and allows me to delve into any subject from spirituality to politics without getting ensorcelled in the trap of assumptive dogma.