What if I’m wrong about myself? What if I’m wrong, in fundamental ways, about who and what I am? What if—beyond the limits of whatever kinds of willful self-deception surely warp my self-understanding—there are structural and perspectival constraints that simply prevent me from ever seeing enough of me to grasp myself accurately? Or, more, what if my own self-understanding is so irreparably local that, from a God’s-eye-view, it will never be more than a gross misrepresentation?
For my part, all of the above seems not only possible but practically inevitable.
I will have been wrong about myself.
But if I’m wrong about myself—even fundamentally wrong about myself—does this automatically mean that my life won’t have been worth living?
I think the answer to this is no. [Read more…]