The child is father of the man;
And I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety
As you can see (and feel?) above, the true poet is delicately balanced:
- between natural and theological
- between adult and child
- between subjective and objective povs.
The poem — here its the great English poet William Wordsworth — will repay study in more detail. For here I will choose few parts, starting with a different one
A slumber did my spirit seal;
I had no human fears:
She seemed a thing that could not feel
The touch of earthly years.
No motion has she now, no force;
She neither hears nor sees;
Rolled round in earth's diurnal course,
With rocks, and stones, and trees.
The closing of the first
The Clouds that gather round the setting sun
Do take a sober colouring from an eye
That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality;
Another race hath been, and other palms are won.
Thanks to the human heart by which we live,
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
A more direct answer to your question would be from Jung:
He who looks outward dreams;
He who looks inward awakens
IOW meditate!
(whatever form or system makes sense to you)
Since some literalists want a more literal answer:
A good 3 centuries ago, Kant settled what he was confident enough to proclaim was his ‘Copernican Revolution:’ It is the representation that makes the object possible not the object that makes the representation possible:
Nothing which is intuited in space is a thing in itself, and space is not a form which belongs as a property to things; but objects are quite unknown to us in themselves, and what we call outward objects are nothing else but mere representations of our sensibility, whose form is space, but whose real correlated thing in itself is not known by means of these representations, nor ever can be, but respecting which, in experience, no inquiry is ever made.
Immanuel Kant — CPR
So what things are in their fundamental reality is either:
- An ever unknowable problem
- Or else a meaningless question
In Kantian language we are ever stuck in the phenomena — ‘the representations of our sensibility’, the phenomena, we can never know the noumena.
In that sense Kant (like Plato) prefigures (your favorite!) the Matrix: Being wired in(to) the matrix it is a hopeless exercise to struggle to get out... except on its terms.
This harks back to all the multitude of eastern teachings which in different ways assert: He who chooses God chooses because God chose him. vide.
- Sufi AL-Hallaj: When I saw my Lord with the eye of the heart, I said, 'Who are You?' He said, 'You'
- Bhagavad Gita: You cannot see Me with your present eyes. Therefore, I give you divine eyes. Behold My mystic opulence!