It sounds like a baby's wail, it’s piercing, it’s eerie, but it’s also making me feel calm. It’s following a very specific rhythm, a rhythm I can hum to. It gets louder and then quieter, it’s very elegant, like some interpretation of divinity. There are no words to it, it’s just noise, really beautiful noise. It’s echoing across the room as if trying to make its presence known. This beautiful noise, it’s coming from these five men, all pale skinned, dressed in white, red lines bordering their robes edges. They’re all about the same height, their movement very much in synchrony, from left to right, it’s almost unhuman. Surrounding them is a stage, candles giving it the little light that it has. These candles, they separate the men from us, almost forming some fencelike structure. I’m in a hall, it’s mostly dark, but vague hints of light shine through the mosaic glass windows. I’m not the only audience, I can make out at least a dozen silhouettes, all seated, ahead of me. Everything I can see, and feel, and hear, it’s ritualistic, which makes sense, I’m in a church, a catholic one, where this beautiful choir entertains my ears. The people here, they’re all worshiping Christ, they probably think I am too, but I’m not, I’m not here to conform to their beliefs, I’m here to express mine.
Looking around the church, it's all lit up, with dull yellow lights surrounding its ceiling. There is a lot of noise, the few dozen people here are talking. Some people are up on the stage, they’re preparing something, some performance. This old lady, Zania, she’s standing next to the entrance, greeting people as they come in. She’s the one who invited me here, the one who thought I’d benefit from this church, from the guidance it brings. As I start talking to Zania, her face lights up, she’s inviting me to this idea of Christ. There is a lot of happiness in this conversation, happiness that all radiates from her. She’s telling me all about how Jesus is so merciful, how he died for our sins, how if I was ever in sorrow, Jesus would be there to help me, but then there is me, of all this happiness I can feel, I choose to disturb it. I’m disagreeing with everything she says, I’m concerned, I’m asking her, what if Jesus is just some fable? She answers, nothing of substance, but I sense the happiness fade. I’m making this happiness question itself. I’m so proud of myself, proud that I made her see some rationale, that I made her question her thoughts, her happy thoughts.
The choir is calming down, its ending. I’m relieved, all that I heard, it made me happy, happier than I was coming in, I’m sure Zania feels happy like that too. I feel guilty, guilty for trying to take that away from her, guilty for feeling proud while doing it. This gathering, it’s spreading joy. This choir, it’s just an eerie embodiment of that joy, and I’m here, trying to fight that joy. I question it now, what authority did I have, to take away that happiness, even if for just a moment, from Zania. I’m going to go about my life, expressing this rationale that I have, at the cost of this happiness, and joy, and peace that I could have, like Zania. This choir, it’s making me realize that, if I wasn’t so insistent on finding fallacies with arguments for joy, then maybe, me and the people I argue with, like Zania, would be more at peace.
This is how I’ve thought, for the past years of my life. I’ve lived thinking that truth is more important than happiness, that truth is always what should be prioritized. This choir, maybe it isn’t the most rational thing in this world, but it made me, Zania, and probably all others who were present, happy. Giving up this search for truth, collapsing to a state of accepting my beliefs to maybe be incorrect, just to be happy. I don’t know if I can do that. But I feel so good here, happiness is a good feeling. I’m left in conflict now, this guilt of making others unhappy, of making myself unhappy, but this passion and thirst for truth.
Nietzsche touched on this, he called it herd morality, that people believe in what keeps them happy. He also warned of isolation and guilt that could follow going against this said herd morality. I’m finding that to be true. The eerily beautiful hymns of the choir, they have changed something in me, they have made me feel this sympathy that is so contradictory to my understanding of, me. This is not who I am, this sympathy, I love truth, more than my own self, but here I am, sympathizing with those who reject it. To think, it’s this hunt for truth, this constant questioning, that made me this sorrowed, pretentious man that I am now.
My pretention, I don’t like it. I’m not just pretentious to others, but also to my own happiness. I’m too pretentious to let myself be happy, because then I wouldn’t be smart, because then I wouldn't be the man I thought I always was. The choir though, its sound, the happiness it brought, it’s fighting that pretension, it’s making me want to let go, to change who I want to be, to be a happier, a more peaceful man. This eerie mix of feelings, the contradiction, the sympathy, the willingness to let go, contrasted with the eagerness to stay, to hold on to my idea of truth. Zania’s smile, it reminds me of this feeling of happiness, that I felt, that I could feel, if I give up my search for truth. Maybe it’s okay for me to be vulnerable, to accept some idea of faith, and to let go of this hierarchy which I think I lie on top of. I think I’ll let my intellect rest for a while, I’ll give in to this call of happiness.
That was me, after that day, church, choir, rituals, there is something spiritual about accepting happiness, at the cost of truth. My days don’t look the same anymore, I don’t go about trying to find contradictions in people’s beliefs, they're happy, and I should let them be. Truth still exists, it just doesn’t have the same priority it had before, now my happiness comes above. Life looks brighter, happiness flows within me, it’s liberating, accepting this. It’s not just me, it’s people around me, I’m not questioning their livelihood, I‘m respecting it. I always thought it was weak, to fall to this level, to give up truth for peace, but it took a lot of courage, to give up truth for peace, maybe it’s also weak, to be this adamant about rationality. It hurts people, it hurts you. This life, my life, it’s here now, and it will be gone soon, does truth really matter that much, If I’m not even happy knowing it? Zania wasn’t smarter, but she was sure happier. It was her invitation, her welcoming me to hear the beautiful choir, the choir that made me let go of my adamancy, the choir that made me happier.