Certainties
Lifebuoys When Sinking

Doubt, as we call him, has a habit of arriving uninvited. He’s a strange fellow. Pretends to be a friend. He brings suspicions, questions, and proof-less ambiguities—for should he breing proof there would be no doubt, would there? The “proof” he does bring is always ostensible aka doubtful.

He seems to enjoy causing havoc, to shake and wobble the ground beneath our feet, to settle in, make himself comfortable, voice opinions and refuse to leave.

I have found that whenever Doubt knocks on my door and threatens to once again invite himself, it is good to have some antidotes about. I call them Certainties.

The thing with Doubt is that he can never really prove that you’re wrong, that you’re barking up the wrong truth mountain, he can only imply or insinuate or hint that perhaps you’ve been hasty, perhaps you’re mistaken. But he is very, very good at this, and if you lend him as little as an eighth of an ear, you’re in for it.

He has a habit of knocking on my door regularly—well, less so of late, but over the years, whenever there was a dull knock on my door, I knew that here he comes again, with some new very logical and plausible reason why I should stop fooling myself, why I should listen to him and pay heed.

My antidote is called Certainties and the thing about them is that they are experienced. They are not arrived at through reason or guesswork; they have all been, however briefly or long, at some point an integral part of my life, experientially.

Whenever I recall one of them it arrives as very and undeniably real for that is what Certainties are made of—experienced reality.

A few years back, a little fed up with this uninvited guest, I sat down and examined my current life to isolate experienced Certainties that might stop this guy in his tracks.

I ended up isolating eight of them, each telling me that there is a lot more going on in this life than meets the naked human eye; these are moments of experiencing spirit, of transcending, of knowing that flesh and bone is not my true self. Far from it.

Here they are.

Certainty Number One—Story: In fourth grade, I wrote a short story about a wolverine and a reindeer. As I was writing this story I lived it. I lived the Wolverine. I felt the wind in my face, I smelled reindeer blood and I tasted warm reindeer flesh all the while I saw my hand write the words as I lived this snowy and fateful afternoon, low sun setting on the forest and fields. Shortly after turning it in to my teacher, I was accused of plagiarizing; I must have stolen it from somewhere because no eleven-year-old could ever have written a story like this, so real, so engaging. But I know I wrote it, I experienced living the words, I lived the magic. That is the Certainty, and it has served me well since.

Certainty Number Two—Guardian Angel: That winter (of the story above), alone and too far from home or other houses to call for help, I went through the river ice. I did not have any ice picks with me to help me grip the cold, slick ice-surface and so pull myself up and out of danger. The river was too deep for me to feel the bottom, and the cold current threatened to seize me and carry me under the ice to certain death. I had no way of pulling myself up out of the water and to safety all the while I was getting heavier and heavier as my clothes absorbed the hugry river. But I thought, with my entire being, “I am too young to die.” I do not remember what precisely took place but next I knew I was out of the water lying up on the ice, and now rolling to safety. I did not pull myself up (I simply could not have), someone (invisible, yes) pushed/pulled me and saved my life. This Certainty is as strong as the chair I’m sitting on while typing this.

Certainty Number Three—Autumn Light: In September of 1968 the true and blazing light of consciousness revealed itself to me. I was explaining to a friend how one could ascend, first the body, then the mind, to enter a sphere of pure self, one of free thought. I drew concentric circles to clarify this. Once I had reached the sphere of free thought beyond self-mind, I wondered, is there a sphere beyond this? Then the voice: “Nirvana.” Then the amazing, incredible rush of light throughout my body, throughout my mind, flooding. After perhaps a minute or two or three, the normal world resurfaced. I looked up at my friend and said: “Now I know.” Again, this Certainty is as strong and as real as the fingers that type this.

Certainty Number Four—Winter Sky: Early 1969, in a warm-inside, cold-outside cabin in the Northern Sweden evening snow. I had just made love to my girlfriend and from nowhere suddenly felt absolutely disgusted by the animalistic process of raw procreation. “Let me out!” I screamed inwardly and instantly, out I was let. I found myself in empty space—either in this Universe or some other. But I was out, and totally free of the body. This lasted for perhaps ten seconds, then I, from a vast height, shot back into my body. The Certainty that there is a real spiritual outside to this body lives with me still and just has to be dusted off now and then to shine anew.

Certainty Number Five—Silver Saucer: Yes, I saw it. Beyond any even conceivable doubt, I saw it: hovering a mile or so above me, sparkles of colored light shooting from all around the silver disk. Then—and the feeling was that they wanted me to spot them—once I knew what I was looking at, it shot off from a stand-still (hover) to instant amazing speed and gone. Like a shooting star at an upward slant. People tend to make fun of those who see alien crafts, but never those who have.

Certainty Number Six—Clairvoyance: I was asked to find something that nobody could ever find, and others had looked everywhere, so the story went. Then it fell on me to find this item, or else (I was led to understand); I stood up and walked the shortest distance possible from where I was to the item (hiding at the back of a sock drawer in a stuffed-to-the-brim closet) and retrieved it. I had never seen this item before, and I had no “normal” idea of where it was. Yet, I knew. This Certainty has served me well over the years, and Mr. Doubt is dead scared of it.

Certainty Number Seven—Pure Sex: We had not begun betraying her husband yet, that was soon to follow. Now we were just talking. And talking. Talking and sharing deeply. Stirring fires. Late one night (or early one morning) on the paved path leading past the manor house where I stayed she turned to me. She drew breath to speak but she didn’t speak. Instead the strongest bolt of pure energy I have ever felt rushed from her to me and near enough felled me. The bolt fueled a near-instant erection and I said, “Not now,” meaning not yet. She nodded and agreed and walked away. I looked after her, still vibrating from that other-worldly (or much too worldly) charge knowing that this was sex in its purest form. At later times a very useful Certainty.

Certainty Number Eight—Old Words: I did not grow up speaking English, it is a language I have acquired rather than assimilated (osmosed). As a result, my English word trove is not as rich as it could be and at times when writing, while I know precisely what I want to say I cannot find the word. Sometimes a Swedish word will come to mind and I know it’s the right word. Consulting a Swedish-English dictionary I find the English equivalent and move on. Other times, however—enough times to rule out pure luck—another word will come to me, an English word that I don’t know. But it feels right. Making sure, though, I look it up in a good dictionary and, yes, it is the right word, the very right word, but the meaning I sought is always listed as an archaic meaning, of historical interest. In use, say, a century or so ago. Each time. Each time. This is me consulting a past-life English word trove, not a single doubt about that. Another good Certainty to keep around.

There are others; other odd experiences that all point to the more that’s going on than meets the eye, but these are the eight I usually consult and resort to when Doubt helps himself to a seat in my mind.

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