Why? The Ultimate Question.

I have spent a long time pondering the significance of this question.

I consider this question the foundation for all other questions. We ask “why?” to find meaning behind the existence of a fact. And sometimes the only fact that we can claim to know is the we are thinking and talking and experiencing what we might call existence in this very moment.

There is a common trope in audio-visual media that expresses the curiosity of children. A child will ask, “Why?”; the parent will then give their best answer. Then the child will in turn ask “why” again, and the parent might be able to give an additional answer, but their uncertainty begins to show on their face, or hesitancy begins to creep into every subsequent answer . Soon, the child will have asked “why” until the parent has become frustrated or stumped and ends the line of questioning, either by saying “Because”, a circular argument, or “I don’t know”, which is a confession of the fallibility of the parent’s knowledge, and teaches the child that their parents cannot answer all questions. Perhaps, some parents feel insistent on maintaining a dominant presence in their child’s life, and so they might use the “because I said so” response to give an air of almost god-like power; the ability to speak and manifest will consequentially. Or perhaps, they say it jokingly, in a way saying, “I dunno, so stop asking, silly.” Maybe this might demonstrate a down-to-earth humility that the parent wishes to instill upon their children. Just a thought.

I digress. There does not exist any man that knows all things, and so therefore, there will always be unanswered “why”s to every question possible, and so, the limit of our knowledge will always exist, but can be eternally expanded because there is an infinite amount of questions. We should be grateful for this horizon on our understanding, for without it, man would quickly lose meaning to its life, and cease to exist.

“Why” is undoubtedly the most powerful question that humanity can produce. It is the question that leads to discovery, and the only way things can be completely understood.

If I see a stone on the ground and pick it up, I may notice its external features; its form, texture, weight, etc. These are all qualitative aspects of its existence regarding how it manifests itself to your senses. But once I start asking why it is so, I begin a journey that may last a lifetime of searching. I might discover that it has similarities with other rocks in the area, or perhaps that it is completely unique. I can determine an idea of where it might have come from, and how it was made, and how long ago. All of the other questions begin to take their places, and from “why” ensues “how?”, “where?”, “when?”, maybe even “who?” and “how many?”.

So, sometimes, when I am talking to God–or perhaps, for you atheists out there, my “higher” or “separate” consciousness–I would be asked the question, “Why?”, and I would give responses until I felt I could give no more unique responses. Many times this question would be preempted with “What do you want?” and that would be even more mentally strenuous and frustrating. I wanted to know everything, and yet it seemed the more I knew, it was never enough for me, and that hardest thing in my life has been to try and learn to be content with what I have and know already.

Many times, especially as a member of the LDS church, I felt that the ultimate “Why” was love. Why did God do anything? What’s the point if all things are possible to Him?

I went through many answers to this question, referencing what I had believed to be God’s own words. But now, after having departed that congregation, I have a new “why” to answer that question:

I exist because I am a story incarnate. I am both the author and the medium being authored. I am the hand and the pen and the ink inside of it. And a story does not need a reason to exist–

It simply does.

And therefore ends that line of questioning. It is (unfortunately for my empiricist friends) ontological in nature, in my opinion, and I wish I had better words to paint a clearer picture.

I am not in any way saying I am god, because sometimes, continuing to use the previous analogy, there are still factors outside of my control. I can attempt to create a written character on the page, but perhaps the ink runs a different direction, or maybe the table gets bumped and I make a character that I did not intend to make. I think the definition of godliness is one who has become completely in harmony with the pen, ink, hand, and paper, table, etc., and can craft the story of their choosing with exactness. And I have yet to meet any mortal who can do this. Most mortals will readily admit to the fact that their lives have not turned out the way they previously intended.

Getting back to the story, I could say my story exists because of some other factor; an angry God seeking to torture malevolent spirits, or a loving entity wishing to teach metaphysical children. But even that would simply be nesting the story within another story to be told, and for what does that story exist?

Stories just exist, there is no “why”; the “Why Tree” roots end here.

But do they? Why do you tell stories? What does it fulfill for you? Why is theater, the art of visual storytelling, so compelling and engaging?

And if not for storytelling and teaching and loving, why else would God exist? Because he loves us? And why? Because we are His children? And why would he have children?

So that He could make a story.

And why a story?

Why not?

Because our existence is suffering.

But is it suffering?

Not always.

Could we know what happiness was without suffering?

No.

So then perhaps we do suffer at the hands of God in order to be happy at the hands of God.

But why are we relying so much on an eternal entity for our personal benefit? Is it impossible for our happiness to be independent of all external factors? Is our freedom to choose null and void? Or, are we incapable of choosing to be happy?

And is it all about just being happy? I don’t think so. I consider that belief to be fundamentally flawed, and it is one of the main reasons I left the church. In The Book of Mormon, 2 Nephi 2:25 states:

“Adam fell that men might be; and men are, the they might have joy”

But one of the requirements of feeling joy is that you must first feel its opposite. It is this paradox that I think drives so many to become depressed; they cannot shake their suffering, and in resisting suffering, they continue to suffer, and they are perpetually, maybe even eternally, miserable.

I feel that the church, and many religions for that matter, have hijacked this doctrine to attempt to control the will of the people; if they can tell us that happiness relies upon obedience to their laws and procedures, we will obey them and none else. We will become afraid to choose differently. But, to play devil’s advocate with myself, I think some religions no longer have this intent, but have simply retained old traditions that were ignorantly created, and many leaders are bringing people to suffer with benign intent.

Several years after my mission, I began to choose differently. I had struggled to rid myself of an addiction, and so I tried something I had never tried before; blatant disobedience.

Now some readers might say, “Don’t tell me you were never disobedient.” You’re right. Just ask my mother. But previously, the “why” behind my disobedience was either a) to simply have my way over someone else’s, a gratification of ego and control, or b) it was ignorance, and I did an impulsive action without fully considering the consequences. The difference with my more recent disobedience was experimental; it was a test to see if I had been lied to or not.

I had never truly approached my sins with an experiment of faith similar to that which is used to help people come into the church (see The Book of Mormon, Alma 32:26-43). I had always assumed that they were wrong, but I had not experienced them and relied on accounts of others’ experiences to guide me and solidify my belief. By removing this pillar of belief, the pillar of trust in the experiences of others, the house of my “testimony” or my belief system, crumbled. Had I really experienced the evils of drinking coffee, tea, and alcohol? Had I ever really experienced having sex with someone and feeling bad about it?

So I went about it sort-of scientifically, or maybe better put, intuitively. I tried tea (with caffeine) first. I think green tea has some great health benefits, especially when you’re feeling sick, served warm with honey and lime (or some source of vitamin C).

I tried coffee on the first date with the woman who would become my wife. It was gross, but I didn’t feel God go away. I still drink it occasionally, for medicinal reasons…or maybe I should say, staying awake…

I experienced pre-marital sex, and felt amazing, because I actually fell in love with that person. I could imagine where that might be damaging under other circumstances and with other factors involved, but that is a topic for another day.

My point is that my experience differs from that of others. And I think that is normal and healthy for all of us to experience existence in unique ways. And this realization lead me to believe that no religion can tell you what is right or wrong, but you have to experience things first to determine for yourself what the truth is.

Now when I say “you have to experience things first”, I’m not saying, “go out and do a bunch of stupid things you normally wouldn’t do”. Usually, common sense can trump the need for an actual experience, such as trying to slap a cactus in the face, or jumping off of a cliff–I can’t assure you from personal experience, but from the laws of physics I can tell that these experiences may be painful or deadly (physically) and I have experienced the veracity of the laws of physics, so I don’t need much convincing, and I think I can accurately extrapolate my experience to predict the outcome of those hypothetical actions…

But if someone tells you that worshiping a different god is bad, experiment first. Try out a few safe experiments. Be wise, but also be bold. That is what I want to encourage–wise, bold, brave and sober experimentation. Sometimes, the biggest secrets are in plain sight, only because everyone has been told to ignore their feelings about it and move on, or else face public ridicule.

So, when people ask me why I left the church, this is the basic idea. I feel that I have been lied to out of fear, and not love. I have been manipulated, and while some might claim this was for my betterment, I would disagree. Everything they told me to avoid simply made me more aware of it, and I tried most of it anyway. Everything I thought was wrong and judged others for doing was not only not that bad, but was never, ever deserving of my icy stare of condemnation. I am ashamed of what I have done to others in the name of false religion, and I feel regret, and am sorry.

Always, always ask, “Why?”. It won’t prevent the pain you feel in life, but it might help ease your suffering.