The Paradox of Courage

I’m trying to work with a new form in my next novel, and yes, it’s causing severe bouts of doubt.  Can I pull it off?  Will it be a huge flop?  With a possibility of failing, though, I’m hoping there will be the same possibility of success.  The whole process requires a regular dose of courage.

From Rollo May’s The Courage to Create.  Words of wisdom for artists and questioners and livers-of-life everywhere.  [Bold emphasis mine.]

A paradox characteristic of every kind of courage here confronts us.  It is the seeming contradiction that we must be fully committed, but we must also be aware at the same time that we might possibly be wrong.  This dialectic relationship between conviction and doubt is characteristic of the highest types of courage, and gives the lie to the simplistic definitions that identify courage with mere growth.

People who claim to be absolutely convinced that their stand is the only right one are dangerous.  Such conviction is the essence not only of dogmatism, but of its more detstructive cousin, fanaticism.  It blocks off the user from learning new truth, and it is a dead giveaway of unconscious doubt.  The person then has to double his or her protests in order to quiet not only the opposition but his or her own unconscious doubts as well.

Whenever I heard—as we all did often during the Nixon-Watergate days—the “I am absolutely convinced” tone or the “I want to make this absolutely clear” statement emanating from the White House, I braced myself, for I knew that some dishonesty was being perpetrated by the telltale sign of overemphasis.  Shakespeare aptly said, “The lady [or the politician] doth protest too much, methinks.”  In such a time, one longs for the presence of a leader like Lincoln, who openly admitted his doubts and as openly preserved his commitment.  It is infinitely safer to know that the man at the top has his doubts, as you and I have ours, yet has the courage to move ahead in spite of these doubts.  In contrast to the fanatic who has stockaded himself against new truth, the person with the courage to believe and at the same time to admit his doubts is flexible and open to new learning.

Paul Cézanne strongly believed that he was discovering and painting a new form of space which would radically influence the future of art, yet he was at the same time filled with painful and ever-present doubts.  The relationship between commitment and doubt is by no means an antagonistic one.  Commitment is healthiest when it is not without doubt, but in spite of doubt.  To believe fully and at the same moment to have doubts is not at all a contradiction: it presupposes a greater respect for truth, an awareness that truth always goes beyond anything that can be said or done at any given moment.  To every thesis there is an antithesis, and to this there is a synthesis.  Truth is thus a never-dying process.  We then know the meaning of the statement attributed to Leibnitz: “I would walk twenty miles to listen to my worst enemy if I could learn something.”

Could you do that?  Extract wisdom and knowledge from your enemy?

How much more we’d learn if we could be open-minded!  How it would seep into all areas of life—creativity being one of them!

[Post image: Paul Cézanne’s Chateau]

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