Worship

A guy I know came to me for expert help. As I explained things to him, he kept interrupting. He argued, detoured, and frequently interjected that he KNEW THAT—even when he obviously didn't. He tried incessantly to seize control of the process of being helped. "I've got this!" was his message, even though he'd come to me for guidance.

This seemed counterproductive but not unfamiliar. This is why adults are notoriously unable to learn. They'd rather remain ignorant, feeling like they know stuff, than concede deficiency and accept knowledge.

But this isn't about learning.

To me, it doesn't seem like a major "ask" to insist that people seeking help calm down and take a note without injecting fountains of sputtering chaos. But I forget how tenaciously people cling to the pose of "I've got this". They don't even realize they're posing. Their daft sense of assurance feels soldered to their circuit boards—inseparable from their sense of self. Remove this assurance and there'd be little left. At most, a jiggling, wriggling, vulnerable mass of larvae.

To shut up for a moment and take in information—without feeling wrecked by the power imbalance or humiliated by the self-suspension—would feel like self-evisceration. Asking someone to drop the act and suspend the bluster is like asking them to prostrate and adoringly kiss your feet. You are demanding, essentially, worship.


It always puzzled me that saints and gurus and gods and even Jehovah himself would be so haughty and demanding. How odd that they'd want tribute paid, prostration performed, and fealty sworn, as if to some Pashtun warlord. It hardly seems divine! Why would God and His facilitators require worship?

They don't! But the requirement to drop posing and open up feels debasing. And to cultivate sincerity feels denuding. That's what people mean when they talk about worship.