人類的弱點：是無法選擇站在中間

我曾經以為，只要別人對我說話，我就一定要回。
只要事情出現，我就一定要選邊。
只要有兩個選項，我就必須立刻做出判斷。

後來我才發現，
這不是責任感，也不是成熟，
而是一個被訓練出來的錯誤習慣。

事情發生在一個很普通的時刻。
有人替我接了一個案子，
價格被改了，條件被承諾了，
而我成了那個「理論上應該要出面處理的人」。

奇怪的是——
我怎麼回，都不對。

回了，像是在替一個我不認同的結構背書。
不回，又像是在違反某種「應該要回應」的社會規則。

那一刻我突然意識到一件事：
如果回也不是，不回也不是，
那代表這個行動本身就不該發生。

人類最大的弱點，
不是情緒太多，
而是用邏輯在行動，卻用情緒承擔後果。

我們太習慣用邏輯逼自己動身：
要不要？
該不該？
對不對？
合不合理？

但邏輯只有二元。
是或否、做或不做、回或不回。

問題是——
如果一個行動，在感性層面根本還沒成立，
那這個二元選擇本身就沒有任何意義。

那只是對一個錯誤前提，進行再精細的計算。

後來我開始反過來看事情。

我不再先問「合不合理」，
而是先問：

我怎麼想？
我現在的狀態如何？
這個方向，真的在拉我前進嗎？
這個意願，是否強到足以讓我動身？

只有當答案是肯定的，
我才允許自己開始動用邏輯——
去補足方法、路徑與細節。

邏輯不再是發動引擎，
而是導航系統。

那為什麼大多數人做不到這件事？

因為我們從學生時期開始，
就被過度訓練把注意力集中在大腦。

我們被獎勵的是：
快一點想、快一點答、快一點選邊。

卻很少有人教我們：
在不知道答案的時候，安靜地停住。
在感覺尚未成熟前，不要行動。
在方向尚未出現時，站在中間。

於是感覺被閒置，
身體被忽略，
靜力被誤解成懶散。

最後人只能困在繁雜的大腦活動裡，
不停模擬、不停糾結、不停內耗。

我後來才明白，
站在中間不是逃避，
而是一種不給世界抓手的狀態。

當你不急著回應，
不急著選邊，
不急著證明自己有在行動——

你就沒有弱點。

你不被推動，
也不被拉扯，
只是安靜地等待那個真正成立的方向。

一旦方向出現，
你動得比誰都快。

人類真正該被訓練的，
從來不是更多思考。

而是——
感覺、專注、集中、靜力。

因為只有感性先成立
——邏輯的二元才有意義。

否則，
只是在一個不該出發的地方
討論往左或往右。

多數人第一次真正停下來、不回應、不選邊時，
都會感到恐懼。

那不是因為危險正在發生，
而是因為原本熟悉的啟動方式突然失效了。

當你不回、不動、不立刻行動，
世界不再即時回饋你「你是有用的」、「你是正常的」、「你沒有落後」。

那種不安，
不是警告，
而是你暫時失去了過去用來確認自己存在的方式。

恐懼會在這裡出現，
只是因為你第一次發現——
原來不被啟動，
也仍然存在。

而當我們去除邏輯反應的限制，
會發現還有另一種更深的限制狀態——
是被情緒、自我、邊界感控管的情況。

在這裡，
問題已經不再是「合不合理」，
而是——

「決策判準」：
當我被情緒／自我／邊界感抓到時，
我到底是用什麼準則，決定不動？

當我們真的開始想穿透情緒，理解情緒
事情會變得比想像中更複雜。

因為我們很快就會發現，
情緒從來不是孤立存在的。
它和自我綁在一起，
和邊界感綁在一起，
甚至和存在感、和安全感綁在一起。

到了這個層次，
事情已經不再是外在邏輯可以處理的範圍。

外在邏輯是二元的。
要或不要、做或不做、回或不回。

但內在情感在尚未被看清之前，
往往是一元的。
它只是一種壓迫、一種卡住、一種「不對勁」，
卻沒有方向。

所以很多人會誤以為，
只要把情緒當下表達出來，
問題就會消失。

但事實是——
當你被情緒困住的時候，
那往往正是不該立刻行動的時候。

因為這時候的情緒，
還沒有被穿透。

它只是力量，
還不是方向。

真正的轉折，
發生在你願意更深入地看情緒的那一刻。

不是問：
我現在想不想說？

而是開始問：
這個情緒在保護什麼？
它是在保護誰的自我？
是對方的，
還是我的？

當你真的靜下來，
用更慢、更安靜的方式去看，
你會發現一件很關鍵的事——

情緒的本質，其實也是二元的。

它永遠在做一個選擇：
保護他人的自我，
或是保護自己的自我。

一旦這個二元浮現，
方向感就出現了。

這時候，
你才真正可以動用邏輯。

不是用來逼自己，
而是用來誠實地計算——
如果我選擇保護對方的自我，
我會失去什麼？
如果我選擇保護自己的自我，
我又會承擔什麼？

而再往下看，
這個選擇其實還指向一個更深的問題。

那就是：
我究竟是靠什麼而活著？

如果一個人的真實自我認為，
自己是靠物質、靠生存、靠資源而活，
那麼在很多時候，
選擇滿足他人的自我，
在這個社會反而是一條可行的道路。

如果一個人的真實自我認為，
自己是靠原則而活，
那麼他自然會傾向保護自己，
即使因此只能被一部分的人理解。

也有人靠原諒而活。
滿足自己三分，滿足他人七分，
一樣能在世界裡站得住。

而像我這樣的人，
並不是靠信念活著，
而是靠尋找。

我活著，
是為了不斷確認這個世界到底是什麼，
確認哪些選擇是真的，
哪些只是被沿用的慣性。

所以我不會永遠站在自己這一邊，
也不會永遠站在他人那一邊。

我更在意的是——
這一次的選擇，
是否仍然讓我走在「尋找」的路上。

於是我慢慢明白，
真正決定行動方向的，
從來不是情緒本身，
也不是邏輯本身。

而是存在感。

邏輯的方向感，
來自情緒。
先有喜好，
才會有方法。

而情緒的方向感，
來自於存在感。
來自於這一生，
我究竟是為了什麼而活。

當你開始用這個層次在看事情，
很多困住你的兩難，
其實會自己鬆開。

因為你不再只是問：
該不該？

而是在問：
這樣做，
我還是不是我自己？

今天，
這篇文章就停在這裡。

停在「存在感」這個點上。

不是為了給答案，
而是為了留下那個真正該被感覺的問題——

我們究竟是在行動中證明自己存在，
還是在大量的安靜與不動之中，
才第一次真正感覺到：
原來我一直都在。

到最後我才明白，
人類真正的弱點，
從來不是選錯邊。

而是——
無法承受站在中間時，
什麼都還沒發生的自己。

而當你站上這個中間時，

你會發現，
複雜的情感，
其實清晰可見。

困難的情感問題之中，
本來就會失去一部分的自我。

只是——
你要為了什麼，
去選擇失去。

你又是為了什麼，
而站上這個中間，
這個可以觀察所有問題的位置。

The Human Weakness: Being Unable to Stand in the Middle

I used to believe that
if someone spoke to me, I had to respond.
If something happened, I had to take a side.
If there were two options,
I had to make a decision immediately.

Later, I realized
this wasn’t responsibility,
and it wasn’t maturity either.

It was a mistaken habit that had been trained into me.

The situation itself was ordinary.

Someone accepted a project on my behalf.
The price was changed.
The conditions were promised.
And I became the one who was
“theoretically supposed to step in and handle it.”

What was strange was this—

No matter how I responded, it felt wrong.

If I responded,
it felt like I was endorsing a structure I didn’t agree with.

If I didn’t respond,
it felt like I was violating some unspoken social rule
that said I should respond.

At that moment, I realized something crucial:

If responding is wrong,
and not responding is also wrong,
then the action itself was never supposed to happen.

The greatest weakness of human beings
is not having too much emotion,
but acting with logic
while bearing the consequences emotionally.

We are used to forcing ourselves into action through logic:

Should I?
Is it right?
Is it reasonable?
Does it make sense?

But logic is binary.
Yes or no.
Do or don’t.
Respond or remain silent.

The problem is—

If an action has not yet been established
on an emotional level,
then the binary choice itself has no meaning.

It is nothing more than
a refined calculation based on a false premise.

Later, I began to look at things differently.

I stopped asking first,
“Is this reasonable?”

Instead, I asked:

What do I actually feel?
What state am I in right now?
Does this direction truly pull me forward?
Is this intention strong enough
to make me move?

Only when the answer was yes
did I allow myself to activate logic—
to fill in methods, paths, and details.

Logic stopped being the engine.
It became the navigation system.

So why do most people fail to do this?

Because from our student years onward,
we are trained to place excessive attention on the mind.

We are rewarded for being fast:
thinking quickly,
answering quickly,
choosing sides quickly.

Very few people teach us how to:
stop quietly when we don’t know the answer,
not act when feelings are not yet mature,
stand in the middle when direction has not yet appeared.

As a result,
feeling is sidelined,
the body is ignored,
and stillness is mistaken for laziness.

In the end, people become trapped
in endless mental activity—
constant simulation,
constant hesitation,
constant inner exhaustion.

Later, I understood:

Standing in the middle is not avoidance.
It is a state that gives the world nothing to grab onto.

When you don’t rush to respond,
don’t rush to choose sides,
don’t rush to prove that you are taking action—

you have no weakness.

You are not being pushed,
and you are not being pulled.

You are simply waiting, quietly,
for the direction that truly forms.

And once it does,
you move faster than anyone else.

What human beings truly need to be trained in
has never been more thinking.

It is—

feeling,
attention,
focus,
stillness.

Because only when feeling is established
does logical duality become meaningful.

Otherwise,
we are merely discussing whether to go left or right
at a place where we were never meant to depart.

For most people,
the first time they truly stop—
not responding, not choosing sides—
they feel fear.

Not because danger is occurring,
but because the familiar activation mechanism has failed.

When you don’t respond, don’t move, don’t act immediately,
the world no longer gives you instant feedback like:
“You are useful.”
“You are normal.”
“You are not falling behind.”

That unease
is not a warning.

It is simply the loss of the old way
you used to confirm your own existence.

Fear appears here
because for the first time, you realize—

even without being activated,
you still exist.

And when we remove the limitation of logical reaction,
we discover another, deeper limitation—

being governed by emotion, ego, and boundary defense.

At this stage,
the question is no longer “Is it reasonable?”

It becomes a question of decision criteria:

When I am caught by emotion, ego, or boundary fear,
what standard am I using to decide not to move?

When we truly attempt to see through emotion,
to understand it,
things become more complex than expected.

Because we quickly discover that
emotion never exists in isolation.

It is bound to the ego.
Bound to boundaries.
Bound even to existence and safety.

At this level,
external logic can no longer handle the situation.

External logic is binary.
Want or don’t want.
Do or don’t.
Respond or don’t respond.

But internal emotion,
before it is seen clearly,
is often singular.

It is just pressure,
just blockage,
just a sense that “something is wrong”
without direction.

This is why many people mistakenly believe
that simply expressing emotion
will resolve the issue.

But in truth—

when you are trapped by emotion,
that is often the moment
when action should not be taken.

Because the emotion has not yet been penetrated.

It is power,
but not direction.

The real turning point
comes when you are willing
to look deeper into the emotion itself.

Not asking:
Do I want to speak right now?

But instead asking:
What is this emotion protecting?
Whose ego is it protecting?
The other person’s?
Or mine?

When you truly slow down,
and observe with quiet attention,
you will notice something crucial—

Emotion, at its core, is also binary.

It is always making a choice:
protect the other’s ego,
or protect your own.

Once this duality emerges,
direction appears.

Only then
can logic truly be used.

Not to force yourself,
but to calculate honestly—

If I choose to protect the other’s ego,
what do I lose?
If I choose to protect my own,
what will I have to bear?

Looking even deeper,
this choice points to a more fundamental question:

What do I actually live by?

If a person believes, at their core,
that they live by material security,
survival, or resources,
then protecting others’ egos
often becomes a viable path in society.

If a person believes they live by principles,
they will naturally lean toward protecting themselves,
even if that means being understood by fewer people.

Some people live by forgiveness—
giving three parts to themselves
and seven parts to others—
and they can still stand in the world.

As for someone like me,
I do not live by belief.

I live by searching.

I live to continuously verify
what this world truly is,
which choices are real,
and which are merely inherited habits.

That is why I do not always stand on my own side,
nor do I always stand on others’.

What matters to me is this—

Does this choice
still keep me on the path of searching?

Slowly, I came to understand:

What truly determines direction
is neither emotion
nor logic.

It is existence.

The direction of logic
comes from emotion.
Preference comes before method.

And the direction of emotion
comes from existence—
from what I am ultimately living for.

When you begin to view things at this level,
many dilemmas loosen on their own.

Because you are no longer only asking:
“Should I?”

You are asking instead:

If I do this,
am I still myself?

Today,
this essay stops here.

It stops at the point of existence.

Not to give answers,
but to leave behind the question
that truly needs to be felt—

Are we proving our existence through action,
or is it only within deep stillness and non-movement
that we first truly feel:

I have always been here.

In the end, I understood:

The true weakness of humanity
has never been choosing the wrong side.

It is—

being unable to endure
standing in the middle,
while nothing has happened yet.

And when you truly stand in that middle—

you begin to see
that complex emotions
are, in fact, clearly visible.

Within difficult emotional situations,
a part of the self is always lost.

The question is simply—

for what
are you willing to lose it?

And for what
do you stand in the middle,
at this position
from which all problems can be observed?