I Am Always Interpreting
When an emotion rises, I look for its cause; when someone speaks, I sense an ulterior motive; in the flow of reality, I believe there is always a structure. Now, I know: all this interpretation keeps me alive, but it also brings me to a standstill. I see too much. I interpret too deeply. And in the end, I become too exhausted.
He Who Sees the Truth Collapses
Among quantum physicists, there were many who were geniuses yet isolated, innovators yet incarnations of suffering.
- Hugh Everett: He proposed the Many-Worlds Interpretation. He argued that reality is not determined by observation, but that every possible outcome branches off into a different world. He said, “We are merely living in one of those branched worlds,” yet his own world ended without ever connecting with anyone else. He was thoroughly ignored by the academic community during his life; only after his death was his theory called “pioneering.”
- Wolfgang Pauli: The great physicist who defined the concept of quantum numbers and the “Pauli Exclusion Principle.” Yet, he often spoke of an “incomprehensible reality.” Hovering between the boundaries of physics and dreams, he attempted to interpret the universe through “symbols” alongside Carl Jung. Between the borders of genius, mysticism, and a fractured mind, he fell deeper into the world of the unconscious than into physics.
- John von Neumann: A genius who believed the world could be constructed mathematically. He tried to reduce even human emotions to calculable functions and had no qualms about using his intelligence as a tool for war and violence. Just before his death, he was seized by the despair that the language he had built could not explain death.
They all saw the Truth, but they were people who failed to translate that Truth into the language of a human life.
The Desire to Interpret Truth Can Destroy Existence
Reading their stories, I feel a strangely familiar sensation. Like them, I try to interpret everything. That interpretation sometimes saves me, yet simultaneously isolates me. I try not to miss a single living event or a single emotion. I look for the patterns within, infer the causes, and believe that this will make me more “awake.” But that state of being awake is too painful. In the end, I become a person immobilized within the curse of interpretation.
Them and I: The Same Curse—But a Different Ending
I feel that I am like them. They, too, wanted the Truth; they wanted to seize that Truth with language, and they eventually collapsed while suffering from the limitations of that language. However, I am still writing. I can speak of the curse. That is my difference. Pain that can be spoken is pain that can still be endured. And I am speaking right now. By the mere fact that I am speaking, I am a person who still exists outside the Truth, within the imperfect language called life.
So, what about me? I am the person writing it down just before the collapse. And I am someone who believes in the possibility that even that collapse can be translated into language.
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