Storm on the Sea of Galilee, 1633 by Rembrandt.
We cannot come to a comprehensive, indubitable “Truth,” but can only quest towards it. Holding this, the question becomes this: How might one captain his intellectual vessel such that he can journey on in confidence of his navigation and that of his fellow seafarers?
What is the compass with which we ought to guide our charter for the interconnected islands of truth? Many answers have been supplied by merchants of method. From the most solipsistic rationalism to the crudest empiricism, the most naïve idealism to the basest realism, all retain an underlying dynamic between doubt and faith; this latter term carries with it substantial connotative weight, so trust may serve in its stead for our present purpose.
Whether reason and/or reality, mind and/or matter, intuitions and/or institutions, one chooses to trust in the reliability of his and/or another's judgement so as to form a framework that affords some level of intelligibility to the cosmos about him, or he does not. To deny intelligibility at the outset, i.e., to begin by refusing to place trust in one's and/or another's ability to attain true knowledge, renders him adrift amidst a chaotic sea of possibility wherein he will die an epistemological death, drowned beneath the waves of what's and why's having been blown overboard by incessant skeptic winds. Inversely, to adopt dogmatic assent to propositions however construed and conceived is to go into this tempest of potentiality in denial of its strength; erelong the gale steals the sails, the tides take the crew, and the ship of conviction is completely capsized.
Thus, the matter is not of casting off doubt but of tying it to trust. Opposing poles guide a compass, and our judgement, to true north.