If something is close to my heart, then I can convince someone of it. That’s what I thought.
About the difficulty of looking at something and giving it a name, without killing it.

Facts and feelings
Beliefs are made up of several levels. One is created by comparing facts about an issue. I look for facts that confirm my point of view, if I already have a point of view.
However, there is always, or usually already, a way of looking at something. The degree of my own impartiality plays a major role in whether my view is blocked by preconceived images or whether I can create distance from them in order to see something more clearly.
And you have a feeling for something. This arises from the imprint you have experienced and the things you already know or think you know about it.
Another essential part of a conviction arises from a feeling for something.
You are inwardly convinced of it. One’s opinion about something is built up from this factual knowledge and the feeling for something. This all lies within the framework of the moulding you have and the degree of willingness to look at something with an open mind.



Clear, smooth form
When a conviction is formed from this, it is usually a very clear thing that seems untouchable. At least you don’t want to touch it yourself, because it is so beautifully round and ready in the room.
As it seems natural and clear, logical and justifiable, it is easy to defend. You can at least try to present it to someone.


The performance begins
Everything runs smoothly at first. After all, everyone simply has to recognize this clear, smooth form at first glance. But as soon as you enter the room together, you realize that it’s different. You almost look at it with different eyes, now that you are no longer alone with the thing, with its smooth, beautiful shape. 
You begin to look at it differently, if only because someone else is in the room with you and you can perhaps suddenly imagine what the other person might see. The atmosphere, the light suddenly seems different. You look at the thing, look at the other person, see how they look at it. You try to interpret the viewer’s gaze – and suddenly it influences your own point of view.
You see that the other person is looking or not looking, you see the other person’s facial expression. You don’t just reflect alone, but in communication with the other person.
Or you continue to look at the object as if spellbound and are unaware of everything around you.

I see something you don’t see
Then we turn to each other and say what we see. And suddenly, when you look at the object again, it’s suddenly changed. Or is it?
Or it’s still smooth, round and clear in front of you. Or the other person tells me, look, it’s not smooth. And I go and see that it’s not smooth. Or I go and see that it is smooth and I point it out to the other person.
It depends on whether they both look, whether they both see the same thing, or rather the same thing. But it’s impossible to see the same thing. Because you can never be in the same place, that would mean being the other person. Or would it?
We can play this game for a long time: Trying to see what the other person sees, comparing, harmonizing, differentiating our points of view.
When I look now – is it still the object that was in the room before? Which I proudly presented to the other person?



Later
I can tell you what happens when the other person has gone:
Sometimes it’s still this beautiful, smooth shape. But then suddenly I’m no longer sure whether the other person was really here. Did I show them? Did I really lead them into this room?
Sometimes the shape is changed. Sometimes the object is no longer the same, or still is – I can’t say for sure. In any case, it no longer belongs to me alone. Maybe it never did.
Or it is suddenly no longer my object. I don’t recognize it.

And now and then I can’t find the object or the room again. Instead, leaves rustle or sand blows across a wide plain… So – there is neither the object nor the space. Or there were, but they have changed. Or I have transformed myself.
This makes it difficult to form convictions clearly and firmly.

I admire those who defend their spaces, praise their objects and argue about them to the death. It often doesn’t matter whether the object is “real”, whether it is smooth, whether it has a space. Sometimes it only gets a space because the other person is shouting about it. Or the object arises from the other person’s imagination if it is close to their heart. Because otherwise something is missing, perhaps too many leaves are rustling or too much sand is drifting over too many levels, there are too few walls.
There is nothing solid left.

Illusion is (a)/ the conclusion
(“There is no truth, but you have put it between us.” Djuna Barnes, Nocturnal)
But if I want to convince someone, then I have to hold on to my object. Leave the walls standing. Let nothing come in between. Give it a name. Let it freeze, let it solidify. Turn the other person’s head in the “right” direction so that they see what I see, or at least something like it.
Perhaps that has nothing to do with the truth, which is constantly changing because it is something changeable. (Is it? But yes… I think of truth like a bird that flies, lives, blows, fades, is reborn, etc. Something transformable. Something transformable. Is that it?)
In science, something is a fact until something disproves it. And even that is different from different points of view… – since we know that the observer influences what is being observed.

And yet 2+2=4. Or is there still something to interpret here? Are numbers then simply very convincing spaces? Facts that have not yet been refuted. Or are they constructs?
… to be continued…*
Right, I wanted to write about convictions here.


The truth, motherfucker
Nevertheless, it is sometimes an advantage to build these objects. And to take others into the rooms with you. Even if all you do afterwards is look at the rustling leaves together. 
Because in order to walk somewhere, you need a floor or something to put your feet on. (And after all, I hope, you have feet, or something you walk with, move forward, don’t you?) 
So – people need a few solid things, it seems. Otherwise I give myself the name, commit myself to the fact that you can’t say anything definite. You can. But only for this moment. How wonderfully the sun has just sent its rays across the surface of the water – look, now it’s gone and the sky is coloring the water silver. I am convinced that this water now reflects a wonderful silver colour. But now – now it’s dark blue.