Not long ago, a friend sent me a viral image claiming that Portugal had the highest divorce rate in the world, at 94%. With a tone of sarcasm and mockery, he commented on the state of divorce in the country where I live, suggesting that the statistics spoke for themselves.

A quick search led me to the source of these figures, which turned out to be a Wikipedia page. On closer inspection, I realised that this figure represented the ratio of divorces to marriages, not the divorce rate itself. In other words, the number of people who married in a given year closely matched the number who divorced. This did not mean that 94% of those who got married in Portugal ended up getting divorced. For example, if 5,000 marriages were registered in 2022 and exactly 5,000 people who had married in the past 20 years decided to divorce that same year, the marriage-to-divorce ratio would be 100%. However, the design of the viral post led people to believe that 94% of marriages in Portugal end in divorce. This is just one of thousands of examples of superficial thinking in our society.

Superficiality or depth of thought isn’t a simple on-off switch, and no one can be entirely profound or superficial. However, striving for depth and avoiding superficiality can be a guiding value in the pursuit of wisdom. Superficiality is directly linked to how beliefs are formed in the human mind; in other words, gullibility can foster a superficial mindset.

Let’s consider why you believed in the stories about storks or the promised land told to you by your family, but regarded the epic tales of *The Iliad* or *The Odyssey* merely as stories. This comes down to how the brain labels the narratives we hear. Beyond this, it is important not to overlook the role of superficiality, which I will explore from various angles in this chapter.

I recall the first time I watched a documentary about primitive tribes; I was probably no more than ten years old. Seeing their way of life sparked hundreds of questions in my mind, and it was hard for me to believe that people could live on a remote island in the same way for over 50,000 years without any changes. The first question I asked my mother after watching the documentary was, “Mom, do you think God forgot to send prophets to these islands?” I don’t remember what my mother replied, but this question intrigued me so much that it eventually led me to explore the theory of evolution and Darwin’s fascinating ideas—a scientific truth that still isn’t taught in many educational systems worldwide, or worse, is ridiculed with absurd interpretations. These statements not only trivialize one of the most beautiful theories in history but also fuel conflicts with science and promote superstition.

The first time I designed an experiment for myself, I was even younger. Whenever I lost something at home, my grandmother would tell me to recite a prayer so that the lost item would be found. This always worked, and every time I recited the prayer, sooner or later, I would find my lost toy. One day, I decided not to do this and instead sang one of my favorite songs. After finding my toy, I excitedly ran to my grandmother and said, “Grandma, my song works too! When I sing this song, my toys reappear.” Again, I don’t remember my grandmother’s response, but I do remember that my experiment didn’t end there. The next time, I decided not to even sing a song and just searched for the toy. Another miracle happened—the toy was found again.

When we provide children with definitive solutions to their problems, we extinguish their curiosity with a bucket of water in that very moment.

The reason I engaged in such inquiries at a young age can be traced back to influences like my parents’ perspectives, the ideas of my relatives, movies, books like those about primitive tribes, and countless other factors that are too many to list comprehensively.

Superficiality, or a superficial mindset—which I contrast with wisdom—refers to a process intricately tied to mental mechanisms. This process begins when a piece of content enters our consciousness and continues until it transforms into a belief, a concept I discuss in detail in the section on beliefs. Let’s examine some statements together.

I want you to classify the following statements as true or false and decide whether you accept or reject them:

1. Experiments show that positive and negative phrases can affect the structure of water molecules.

2. If a specific drug is given to one million patients and all one million are cured, the drug is effective and can be marketed.

3. Research has proven that birth month has a significant impact on a person’s behavior and personality.

4. Science has proven that humans can be classified into two personality types: introverted and extroverted.

5. Humans use only 10% of their brain capacity.

6. Energy fields can heal patients and cure diseases.

7. A scientific study has shown that drinking a glass of wine a day can prevent heart attacks and increase longevity.

With all due respect to the answers you’ve formulated in your mind, I must say that all these statements are completely false. I have provided detailed scientific explanations for each in the appendix of this book. If hearing this makes you uncomfortable, to the point where you no longer wish to continue reading, that’s perfectly natural. It’s the same feeling my friend experienced when hearing, “The story of the stork? It’s just a tale.” The discomfort you feel is a form of cognitive dissonance due to a shift in your beliefs. You can stop reading here, curse me under your breath to restore your inner equilibrium, or you can keep reading, confident that I will make up for the discomfort caused—just as I made up for spilling coffee on your favorite shirt. Trust me, I won’t let you develop a negative feeling toward your spouse, whom you chose based on their birth month, or your prized 15-year-old Shiraz wine.

Now, let’s introduce two other possible responses to these statements: “I don’t know” and “I need to investigate.” Combining these is also quite useful: “I don’t have precise information and need to investigate further.” These are responses we often don’t hear in childhood; not just from parents, but from all adults who, in the eyes of a child, have all the answers. We, too, rarely try to change this habit or foster curiosity in our children. The degree of superficiality varies greatly, influenced by numerous complex factors, but one of the most significant factors is the definitive answers we receive as children, in school, and in society.

As I discussed in the section on beliefs, humans are instinctively curious and inquisitive. However, the way we satisfy this curiosity can lead us to become either profound thinkers or superficial ones. Teaching children simple methods in the educational system can entirely change this trajectory. When faced with any claim, we should comprehensively examine all its aspects. Instead of seeking only evidence that supports our belief, we should consider all available information.

Using critical thinking techniques helps us examine any claim comprehensively and from multiple perspectives. This method helps prevent common cognitive biases, such as confirmation bias (focusing only on evidence that confirms our beliefs and ignoring contrary evidence).

For instance, if you tell a child who has learned to think critically that every time they think of someone, that person contacts them, and claim this is a supernatural phenomenon or attribute it to energy and the connection between the mind and quantum physics, the child, while smiling at you, will ask a few simple questions:

– Have you noted down how many times you thought of a particular person, and they did not contact you?

– Your answer is likely “no,” because the mind automatically disregards such instances and focuses on the ones that confirm the claim.

– The second question the child will ask is whether you’ve recorded the times someone contacted you when you weren’t thinking about them.

– Again, the answer is probably “no,” because you rely more on feelings than on keeping track of occurrences and designing experiments.

If you’re interested in critical thinking and scientific research methods, references are provided at the end of this book.

Now, the question is, even if a fully scientific, double-blind study that meets all the above criteria and is confirmed by critical examination proves that a particular drug extends life or reduces weight, would I use it?

My answer is no. As I mentioned in the definition of wisdom, one of its pillars is moderation and foresight. A wise person understands that science is not something fixed and immutable; rather, it is a dynamic process that is constantly evolving. What all these scientific studies have proven is only valid for a short period and might reveal different results after ten years or even longer. There are plenty of examples illustrating this point. Therefore, maintaining balance and moderation in a world bombarded with diverse information is as precious as a jewel.

Instead of waiting for others to tell us what is good or bad, what to eat or not eat, or what to do or avoid, if we establish our own philosophy of life and engage the power of thought, we can avoid superficiality and impulsive behaviors.

Many of us think that reason and intelligence are things innately given to us from the start, allowing us to judge everything. This view is very short-sighted and oversimplifies the complexities of the human mind. It’s clear that mental predispositions, like genetics, play a significant role, but environment, education, and lived experience shape the dough of reason.

Superficiality isn’t confined to such topics; it can manifest in all aspects of life, particularly when we face challenges. Superficial thinking can lead us into predicaments and difficulties that cast a shadow over our lives.

I had a friend who was born into a Christian family and was baptized. She had been taught all the Christian teachings from childhood and attended Catholic Church until a few years ago. However, many of the things she had heard about Jesus Christ, the afterlife, and stories like Adam and Eve no longer resonated with her, and she didn’t feel good about herself at all. So, she began moving from one party to another, drinking excessively, until suddenly she decided to replace the church with an Instagram life coach page that had hundreds of thousands of followers. She chose to seek spirituality in a different way. Initially, this made her feel better. Instead of sitting among people in a church, she found herself among thousands of others who liked posts daily, cheered for the beloved life coach, and spent their money to attend courses and listen to the elaborate stories spun by the Instagram influencer. She had found a new community and felt better among them—just felt better. She did everything that was asked of her, even if it meant installing apps like Human Design or structuring her life according to astrology and horoscopes. From cacao ceremonies and chakra openings to quantum physics mixed with Reiki and energy healing, and nonsense about inorganic beings prepared by the enlightened life coach—she participated in them all.

What these people actually do is teach you to whistle Beethoven’s 9th Symphony, and then, with a collective round of applause, give you the illusion that you are the conductor of a symphony orchestra and that soon Beethoven’s spirit will honor you. But what makes you feel good isn’t necessarily what you need. You feel amazing about the illusion of being a conductor and being close to Beethoven, and with this illusion, you decide to take on the leadership of an orchestra. Expectation error, or better yet, the illusion error, occurs when you face a real orchestra.

A few years later, my friend was confronted again with the realities of life. The complexities of emotional and social relationships, job struggles, unresolved traumas, and, to put it simply, pain and suffering that she had thrown like a boomerang into the distance, only to find it hit her back with even greater force. This time, more disillusioned than before, she closed her Instagram, grew to hate herself and her dear life coach, and found a Vipassana course in India, where the same cycle repeated itself, this time in an ashram under an Indian guru. The guru provided her with new hopes. Along with her fellow disheartened followers, she meditated for hours and believed stories about her awakening and past incarnations. Then, the sacred guru exploited her, adding trauma upon trauma.

Don’t get me wrong—Vipassana is amazing. The problem was that my friend saw her teacher as a savior and thought Vipassana would solve all her problems. The issue was that she kept seeking refuge from the church to the life coach, and from the life coach to the Indian guru, always returning more disillusioned than before. The problem lies in the fact that the idea of a savior who will rescue you with a magical solution and ensure you live happily ever after is an illusion.

My friend’s dramatic story didn’t end there. A while after returning from India, she decided to follow shamanic practices. She joined shamanic groups, read all their books and interpretations, and then decided to go to Brazil to participate in cactus and ayahuasca ceremonies. During the ceremony, she experienced severe poisoning and hallucinations and was taken to the hospital. After a month of being hospitalized in a psychiatric ward, battling mental illness, she returned to her family’s arms.

Don’t get me wrong—none of these things are inherently bad. The issue lies elsewhere. The problem was that my friend was trying to rid herself of the boomerang she was holding onto so tightly by throwing it away. Our pains are much like this; the harder we try to run from them, the stronger they come back. Pain and suffering are parts of life. Pleasure without pain is meaningless, and pain without pleasure is equally meaningless. Just as black is meaningless without white, morning without night is meaningless. The issue is that we think we must always feel good. We believe that a pleasant feeling is what we need, and when we don’t feel good, we feel even worse because we’ve been told that if everything is right, we should feel good.

This is exactly the hollow promise that self-development books and successcourses sell us.

Personal development consists of two words: “personal” and “development.” It means you are dissatisfied with your current self and want to transform it into something you perceive as better. In previous sections, I defined personality and explained its complexity and multiplicity. Patterns emerge based on content overlaid on a mental background, and if you recall, the mental background is a multi-dimensional, nested matrix that is so intricate that even imagining it is difficult, let alone understanding how various patterns manifest within its ever-changing cells.

So, when you attend a personal development class, what exactly are you changing in this complex process?

At best, you’re receiving new content and attempting to convert it into beliefs, adding new values to your value systems. You might become emotionally moved, which is also part of forming a new belief, as I discussed in detail in the belief section. Thousands of books published over the past decade on personal development, happy living, and happiness, along with thousands of different courses that have been held, are all built upon the hollow foundation of the illusion of personal development.

As I explained in the earlier sections, the pillars of this book are the mental space, the context, the content, and the mental states. Given this, what exactly will you change during personal development?

In truth, your attitude—comprising beliefs, values, environment, and thousands of other factors—is what can be altered. Thus, a personal development course or a shift in ideology or life philosophy can modify certain backgrounds, but it doesn’t make you a better person because the definition of “better” is dictated by these very systems.

You merely move from one ideological system to another, trying to reshape your personality according to what they tell you, and in this process, you receive rewards and experience feelings that may be better or worse.

People who consider themselves life coaches are often trapped in a narcissistic delusion that they know how to live better than others and can save the world by teaching others how to live. When you choose a coach to learn something, it implies that this person is more skilled than you in that area. This skill is measured by greater knowledge and experience. However, living is not a skill you can learn from a specific person; it is a collection of infinite different skills, none of which have precise rules. For example, your tennis coach can teach you tennis because it is a finite skill with clear rules. Life, however, has no specific rules or clear boundaries; if it did, there wouldn’t be such vast differences in cultures, customs, beliefs, and ideologies.

Parents often fall into a similar delusion, believing they know better how to live than their children and that their children must follow exactly what they dictate.

When my friend returned from Brazil, I didn’t hear from her for a while. Eventually, she contacted me to announce her new plan to become an Instagram life-coach influencer and to create her own ideological cult. She was determined to save the lost and heartbroken this time around. What a novel idea!

She asked me what kind of tattoo would best symbolize her depth. After all, for a life coach, displaying depth at a superficial level is crucial—a deep philosophical quote on the shallowest part of the body.

In reality, she wasn’t aiming to save others; she wanted to save herself but in the guise of helping others because she had given up on saving herself. If I save others and sell them good feelings, I will feel good myself. Of course, this is the motive behind many seemingly altruistic actions (remember the example of the pit and calling an ambulance).

My friend, who barely passed high school physics, began teaching quantum physics online. She now has hundreds of thousands of followers who will likely follow the same path she took.

Eventually, she concluded that none of these things were the root of her problems; the issue was her gender, and she was determined to change it at all costs. She underwent several surgeries, risking her health and spending a fortune to change her gender.

If you think that now, as I write this book, my friend—whom I now have to call by a different name and carefully avoid using the pronouns associated with her former gender—is satisfied and happy with her new life, you are completely mistaken. Nothing has changed, and the suffering remains as it was.

Again, let me repeat: none of these actions—getting a tattoo, helping others, saving the world, or changing one’s gender—is inherently wrong. The issue lies elsewhere. The problem is denying and escaping the pain that comes from confronting the nature of the mind, whether we call it “the unbearable lightness of being,” “the bitter truth,” or “the Four Noble Truths of Buddhism.”

If you think that you and I are very different from this extremist friend of mine, you’re mistaken. If you’re also dissatisfied with yourself and your life circumstances, if you blame others—such as your parents, society, the government, or your bad luck—or if you think you’re not good or lovable enough and that something is fundamentally wrong, this is exactly what I am trying to explain in this book.

The moment you start trying to change your personality is the moment you accept your dissatisfaction with who you are. When new content to “improve” this personality enters your mind, it brings with it the expectation of a better feeling. Simply put, introducing new content information does not change your personality because, as I explained in the section on beliefs, this process is very complex and requires a long time with many repetitions and mistakes. Thus, by doing this, you raise your expectations. The next time the same event that caused an unpleasant feeling in you occurs, your unpleasant feeling will be even stronger because your expectation has risen, and consequently, you will experience greater expectation bias.

We humans constantly blame others for our suffering.

The fact that we are not responsible for many of our life’s problems is quite different from the fact that we are responsible for solving them. Of course, neither you nor I are responsible for genetic diseases, childhood traumas caused by our parents, war conditions, or car accidents. But who, if not ourselves, is responsible for solving the problems arising from these? If this seems unfair to you, please wait; we will scrutinize this topic in later sections.

Throughout this boomerang-throwing process, my friend had two primary strategies. First, denial—that problems existed and that no one but herself was responsible for solving them. Second, escaping from these problems through various methods. Drinking alcohol, taking drugs, and any form of excess, including overeating, are all ways to try to escape from the pain that, in its silent language, shouts that there is a problem.

The next stage came when things worsened with alcohol consumption, and she once again fled from all her problems to a different space. But here’s the point: problems aren’t outside of us, and when we flee, we take our problems with us because the root of our problems isn’t in the incoming content but in our mental backgrounds.

It is very wise for someone to change their ideology through study, research, and curiosity and establish their value system. But my friend didn’t do this out of wisdom; she acted impulsively and out of desperation. She expected her ideology to resolve her problems, whether it was the Christian church, the Buddhist temple, an Instagram influencer, or a shamanic ceremony in the Amazon rainforest.

You might wonder, why would I continue my friendship with such a person? The lessons I learned from engaging with this individual were more valuable than many of the books I’ve read. Friendship, in my view, is not about finding people exactly like us, who think and live as we do. Nor is it about trying to change others; it’s about accepting them as they are and being there when they need us.

Just being there every time she returned, more disillusioned than before, was enough to sustain this friendship.

Was this the end of my friend’s story? No, the story is not over yet.

For the past few years, my friend decided to stop running from her pain and instead embrace it. She began confronting her childhood traumas, exploring them with curiosity. She has been attending psychotherapy sessions for several years now and uses writing as a tool to delve into her mind and memories. She decided to become a writer and started working on her first book. If these changes have had even a slight impact on her life, consciously or unconsciously, I am content.

I don’t mean to say that psychotherapy is the solution to all problems. Still, when someone chooses the challenging and lengthy path of psychotherapy over the simpler, miraculous path of joining an Instagram life coach’s page, it indicates that they understand this is a long road full of ups and downs. Suffering a few nights in Vipassana or using psychedelics doesn’t change anything at the core; it merely puts a beautiful cover over the surface of the mind, giving us a temporarily better feeling.