"I'm going to jog for my health."
Haru declared. Lunch break, three people sitting on a bench.
"You said the same thing yesterday," Ren pointed out.
"This time I'm serious."
"Yesterday you also said 'this time.'"
Haru was at a loss for words. "...Maybe I did."
Noa smiled gently. "You've noticed your self-contradiction."
"I know. But I can't do it."
Ren asked, "Why do you say 'I'll run' when you know you won't?"
"Because at the moment I say it, I really think that way."
"But you don't follow through."
"When tomorrow comes, I feel differently."
Noa intervened. "That's cognitive dissonance."
"Cognitive?"
"The gap between action and belief creates discomfort in the mind. To resolve that discomfort, people use various strategies."
Ren wrote in a notebook. "Change behavior, change belief, add new information."
"Which one am I?" Haru asked.
"You're adding new information," Noa answered. "Adding the hope 'I'll be serious starting tomorrow' to justify not running today."
"Rationalization..."
"Yes. A type of self-deception."
Haru resisted. "But I'm not lying. I really want to run."
"Consciously," Ren said. "But unconsciously, you're prioritizing comfort."
"So I'm lying to myself?"
Noa pondered. "'Lying' is a bit different. You recognize the self-contradiction but just turn away from that discomfort."
"Turning a blind eye."
"Human defense mechanism," Ren continued. "A perfectly consistent person would be unnatural."
"But would acknowledging the contradiction make it easier?" Haru asked.
"Not necessarily," Noa answered. "Acknowledging contradiction shatters your self-image. That's unbearable."
"So we ignore it."
"To protect the ego."
Ren showed another angle. "Philosophically, humans might be inherently contradictory beings."
"What do you mean?"
"Reason and emotion, ideal and reality. Always divided."
"So contradiction is normal?"
"Rather, contradiction makes us human," Noa said.
Haru felt a bit relieved. "But isn't that just making excuses?"
"No," Ren answered seriously. "Recognizing contradiction and leaving it alone are different things."
"If we recognize it?"
"We can choose. Change behavior or adjust beliefs."
Noa supplemented. "What's important is noticing self-deception. If you notice, you can deal with it."
"Pretending not to notice is the problem."
Haru thought. "I notice, but I can't change."
"That's also a step," Ren said. "Next, ask 'why can't I change?'"
"Why?"
"The cost of running versus the benefit of not running. You're unconsciously comparing."
"Not running is easier."
"Think about what that 'easiness' brings," Noa encouraged.
Haru fell silent. Outside the window, someone was running.
"Stopping the blind eye increases discomfort."
"At first," Ren admitted. "But beyond that lies honesty."
"Honesty, toward yourself?"
"Yes. Liberation from self-deception."
Noa said quietly. "You don't need to eliminate contradictions completely. But you can have the courage to face them."
"The courage to face them," Haru repeated.
"That's the beginning of philosophy."
The bell rang. Afternoon class.
"Will you run starting today?" Ren asked.
Haru laughed. "I don't know. But I'll admit I don't know."
"That's honesty."
The three headed to the classroom. Carrying contradictions, yet moving forward.