When we change our minds, something else has to change too.
Let me try to explain: when you change your mind, who is it that says, “I’ve changed my mind”? Freud taught us that we have our Ego, but then we have our Super Ego… that which judges the Ego. I’ve noticed this about my mind: no matter how much I try to locate that which is noticing what I’m thinking, there is always someone else inside of me noticing what I’m thinking. There is always someone further and further behind who is thinking about what I’m thinking about.
Now, whoever this is: this needs to change. In other words, I don’t just need to change my mind. I need to change the one noticing that my mind has changed.
The other day I was talking with a friend who admitted that his mind has changed. He doesn’t believe the same things he used to believe. He’s comfortable with that. But here’s where the difficulty for him begins: he feels that God… if he exists… is no longer present or accessible. He can’t feel him anymore like he used to.
In my opinion his theology is maturing. But the part of him who notices that he’s changed his mind hasn’t changed yet. He’s still back there where he used to be longing for the same securities and sensations he had when his theology was less mature. Maybe he should consider that where he is now is exactly where he should be, stop judging where he is as a bad thing, and let his inner-noticer abandon his sentimental nostalgia for what used to be.
Perhaps a part of this man’s spiritual maturity is not only acknowledging that maybe God cannot be felt, but also that this practically and realistically means he may not feel God anymore.
Where you are now is the new normal. And it’s perfectly okay.