I was going to start off this post by admitting the title as hyperbolic. But then I thought about it for a minute and realized that it says exactly what I mean it to.
Depth, of both thought and feeling, is the most life-changing thing I know. To examine an idea or concept closely, from many angles, and to try reach as full an understanding of it as possible — this process is the basis of all knowledge. To know another person deeply is what defines the most meaningful friendships and love stories; and to know oneself deeply — that is the only way to self-improvement, and self-acceptance, and all the other very healthy self-things. And as a Christian, I believe that the center of faith is a deep knowledge and relationship with God.
I’ve been thinking about how to define “depth,” as a concept, for a while now. To my dismay, I found that it can be very easy to identify a deep thought, but quite difficult to pinpoint what makes it so. But I think I found a kind of constellation of traits that define depth, all of which are important to its meaning.
One central facet to “depth” has to do with intention: Someone made an input of focused energy, like a laser cutting a diamond. Depth is rarely happened upon. There is groundwork, and consistent study — perseverance. One cannot do anything deeply while being distracted; one cannot give up when the going gets hard.
Another defining feature is implication. A deep thought, or theory, or feeling, doesn’t just sit there — it isn’t idle. It effects the world around it, changing everything. Deep things are like the butterfly affect. They keep showing up, changing people, sometimes in ways that wouldn’t seem immediately apparent.
Depth is intoxicating. There’s a quote I love, from the book on mathematics, How Not to Be Wrong, by Jordan Ellenberg: “[T]he sensation of mathematical understanding–of suddenly knowing what’s going on, with total certainty, all the way to the bottom–is a special thing, attainable in few if any other places in life. You feel you’ve reached into the universe’s guts and put your hand on the wire. It’s hard to describe to people who haven’t experienced it.” (pg. 436-437, emphasis his) That description is exactly how I feel about all deep things. Depth gives a rush, an excitement. That’s why it’s addictive. It changes the people who search for it.
Depth is difficult. There are obstacles, and plateaus — times when no progress seems to be made, and one can only wonder if things will get easier. And progress is only ever made by pushing past it. Depth can be frightening. To be totally honest with a life partner is the only way I know to make a relationship last; and that vulnerability, intentionally exposing flaws that are typically kept hidden, can be terrifying.
But depth is deeply rewarding. It enables and strengthens every good. And a life filled with intentional depth is a life worth living. It is a life that loves to learn, to grow, to improve oneself — and to love. A truly beautiful thing.