Truth is a reality checking process in the mind. It can operate in a healthy fashion, or get twisted, or can just be totally eschewed for a strictly relativistic artifice that excuses any stance as just what’s in fad of the mental moment.
There are more paths than this. You may find in your practice that the reflective work is not clicking. There are common elements of the mind, but there are notable deviations also. Mine is one such. The Greeks used to seek out those who suffered from the condition I had as a juvenile to serve as oracles, and the Native Americans used to do the same to choose their shamans. Before puberty, I used to suffer from seizures, and seizures tend to rewire the brain in interesting ways. I learned that the mind and the brain are not the same.
According to science, I shouldn’t have been capable of consciousness while having a seizure. I was. Just very disconnected from the inputs of my body and yet also still very much in it. Not very much fun, and then waking to my nerves cramping every muscle in my body including my stomach. A good puke and deep breathing did make things go away, but I would have preferred to avoid it. I use the term ’waking’ loosely as it wasn’t sleep, but how else to describe coming back to normal consciousness?
Ah, and my baptism, now that was fun. All of the emotion behind it. The focus of the congregation had a weird effect on me. I was swept up by the power of it at first and knew what it meant by doing the ceremony. But when I was raised up out of the water and turned to face the congregation, rather than feeling a sense of unity, I was struck with something far different. I remained in the faith long after, but I expected to be joined into the “body” of God. I experienced the opposite. I saw that the body was dead. I looked for the presence I was seeking. That I saw as a child in my new “family”. I hoped so much. I kept calm, but went home and cried. After finally abandoning my faith, I sort of retreated from the world and spent as many years as I did after my baptism in the wilderness instead.
I felt something of the feeling there in the woods surrounding the town that I knew as a child. I lived in and I felt a sense of welcome. But have you ever been very warmly welcomed into someone’s home, and they were very kind and hospitable? A joy to visit, but still it is not your home?
Your thoughts are welcome. Be well friends.