Enlightenment – Ideology and Identity

Stepping out of the shower today, I was reminded again how that simple mindless and mechanical act creates the perfect space for thinking. Something about performing a task so automatic it unleashes the mind. A kind of accidental meditation. I think the same happens when people go for walks or runs. The body is engaged in something repetitive and the mind finds its own freedom to wander/wonder.

I don’t do that kind of thinking often enough. I’m quick to fill mental space with distractions like scrolling through news or social media, basically whatever keeps boredom at bay. But I’m realizing more and more that boredom is incredibly fertile soil. It makes me question how many thoughts and ideas never get the chance to form simply because they don’t get the silence they need to grow.

Today, in that shower zoned out meditation space, I was thinking about how strongly tethered our ideologies are with our identities. To challenge someone’s ideas, especially directly, is often perceived as an attack on who they are not just what they think. I know this firsthand. I once held strong religious beliefs, and I remember how any questioning of them felt deeply personal.

That thought brought me back to a conversation I had about 20 years ago, where I was on the receiving end of someone else’s arrogance. He tore into my beliefs, not with curiosity or empathy, but with ridicule. His words didn’t change my mind or sway me to see things his way, they just made me furious. It didn’t feel like he was critiquing an idea, it felt like he was attacking who I was.

And now I have to admit something uncomfortable… I’ve been that guy too. In conversations, especially ones involving ideas I’ve really thought through, I’ve come across arrogant. I’ve told myself I’m just confident in my reasoning, but confidence without warmth often comes off as condescension. The difference is less about what we say and more about how we say it.

I recently listened to a podcast between Alex O’Connor and John Lennox that is a perfect example of this. O’Connor, an agnostic atheist, and Lennox, a theist and mathematician, had a conversation that was deep, respectful, and thoughtful. Neither was there to win over the other. They weren’t lobbing intellectual grenades or sticking to a rigid debate format. They approached each other with openness and curiosity. “Here’s what I think, what about you?” That kind of positioning invites growth, not defensiveness. It creates room for nuance. That’s what I want to move toward.

In past conversations, I’ve sometimes pushed too hard. I felt secure in my conclusions and reasoning (conclusions that cost me something to reach), but I now recognize how easily that security can be misread as superiority. When you question someone's beliefs, especially those tightly woven into their identity, it can feel like you're not just criticizing an idea, but implying they are lesser for holding it.

I want to communicate that my ideas aren’t “better,” just perhaps more examined, and even that needs to be said with care. My conclusions were hard-won, often coming at the cost of reshaping parts of my own identity. Everyone is on their own journey with understanding.

Getting back to the podcast - their dialogue also mentioned the Enlightenment. That age of reason and evidence like someone turning the lights on. As a photographer, a metaphor formed in my mind. Enlightenment as light... Revealing, exposing, illuminating.

But not all light is equal.

In photography, hard light is created by a small light source. It casts stark shadows, creates high contrast, and reveals every imperfection. It’s dramatic, but often unflattering. I think a narrow, rigid, arrogant conversation is like hard light. It creates a harsh distinction between viewpoints, binary views where only one can be right. It makes understanding harder.

Soft light conversely is produced by a large light source. The transitions between light and shadow are smooth. It flatters, it embraces detail gently and is more forgiving. A productive conversation feels like soft light, where perspectives are revealed gradually, differences are acknowledged without being weaponized, and both parties walk away seeing more broadly.

That’s the kind of light I want to bring into my conversations.

I want to ask better questions, not just offer sharper answers. I want to listen not to counter, but to understand. I want to shift from “This is what I think” to “Let’s explore this together.” That’s the kind of dialogue that actually changes people, not because it defeats them, but because it respects them.

If I want to think more clearly and engage more meaningfully, I need to create more of those shower meditation moments. Space for reflection. Space for soft light.