From the outside looking in, it is so obvious to me what you should do to change your life. I can see it clearly. It doesn't look hard. I get annoyed because you seem to be resisting.
Yet, I come home, and ignore once again the pile of unanswered mail, unpaid bills, undone laundry. So simple. Just open the envelopes, write a check, put soap in the washer. Yet, for some reason, for me, the thought of these simple acts fills me with terror, and night after night, I choose instead to snuggle up to my computer and the comfort of killing aliens.
Faced with my own helplessness over something so simple and so absurd, I feel ashamed. I feel ashamed to the same degree that I feel superior judging you when you can't get past a block. The shame stops me from reaching out, from admitting to you that I have a weakness. The shame stops me from discovering my commonality with you, and keeps me believing that I am somehow different, separate, not really a part of the universe, not really part of the grand scheme of things.
If I tell you I am weak, you might tell me you aren't, and I would feel lost. The unity of life fades, and the illusion of separation grows, each hiding our own precious shame, fearful lest someone discover we too are human.
It is sometimes difficult to love ourselves. That's why there are other people.
Thursday, May 29, 2003
Five Degrees of Awareness
Awareness brings us freedom. The victim is the person not aware of the part he plays in his own drama, and thus not aware of the other choices he has. As we increase our awareness of how we live our lives, we find we are more responsible, yet, paradoxically, more free.
First Degree - the Watcher When drama happens in our life, we experience only the people and things around us, but not ourselves. Consider animals, which to the best of our knowledge have no self-awareness. A dog sits alone in a house, lonely, hungry. He is not aware of himself as a lonely, hungry dog, sitting in a room - he is aware of a room with no one in it and uncomfortable sensations hovering around. The owner comes home, and the dog is happy. He sees the owner, and the world seems good again. The dog is not aware of himself being present as part of the drama.
So our initial experience of any drama in our lives is the environment around us, which catches our attention and invades our senses. We do not notice ourselves, because we are the ones watching. We do not notice our judgments of others, because we don't experience our judgments - rather, we experience those around us as being a certain way.
Second Degree - the Feeler At this degree, we notice that we exist, and that we react to the world around us. We are aware we have feelings, opinions, intentions, and desires, and we are aware of ourselves as a being in the world, reacting to things around us. When we are with someone, we conceptualize two people together, interacting. We are aware of ourselves. This is the first step to consciousness.
If a co-worker walks past me without saying a word, I may say to myself, "How rude!" This is first degree awareness - I am not aware of myself or my feelings - I am only aware of the co-worker and his rudeness, real or not. My experience is that he is rude. Second degree awareness causes me to say, "I'm insulted." I am now aware of myself in relationship to the co-worker, and my reactions to his actions. This is the first step to objectivity, and allows us to see our judgments as reactions of our feelings rather than reality.
Third Degree - the Actor We discover we are an actor in the drama occurring before our eyes. Not only do we have reactions to others, we interact with them. My feelings of insult may be because of expectations I have that may not be valid, or because of failure to be aware that my co-worker has a meeting and has no time to chat, or because I happen to feel grumpy already. My reactions are in part caused by my own actions, and not entirely by my environment. This is the beginning of responsibility.
In the drama before our eyes, the watcher and the feeler were in the audience, watching the play; the actor is actually on stage, creating part of the drama that is happening. We are now an active part of the story being created.
Fourth Degree - the Director We become aware that in this drama, we are not only acting our own part, but in our minds, we are creating the characters and situations we see around us. People become who we want them to become, and situations take shape the way we want them to take shape. If we want to see someone as cruel, we will notice every nuance that could be interpreted that way, and write off every bit of counter-evidence. The person afraid of abandonment keeps seeing abandonment in the actions of everyone he gets close to. The world conforms entirely to the drama we are caught in, and the other actors appear to take on the roles we want them to have. We recreate our story, using others to fulfill the necessary parts of the drama.
Fifth Degree - the Playwright Finally, we discover that we are the authors of the entire drama, from beginning to end. It doesn't just happen to us as victims of a tragic story - on some level, we have written the story, enlisted the players, given everyone their lines, delved deeply into the drama to recreate the feelings, and then watched from a distance as the story of our life goes by.
What next? Surprisingly, when we become aware, we do not feel despair, but rather a lightening of the load. It is the truth that sets us free. We no longer have to act out our drama. When we are fully aware of the reality, we stop acting, because reality is much more satisfying than the endless repetition of unconscious urges. Realizing that it was just a dream, we wake up, get up, stretch our limbs, and look out on a new day.
First Degree - the Watcher When drama happens in our life, we experience only the people and things around us, but not ourselves. Consider animals, which to the best of our knowledge have no self-awareness. A dog sits alone in a house, lonely, hungry. He is not aware of himself as a lonely, hungry dog, sitting in a room - he is aware of a room with no one in it and uncomfortable sensations hovering around. The owner comes home, and the dog is happy. He sees the owner, and the world seems good again. The dog is not aware of himself being present as part of the drama.
So our initial experience of any drama in our lives is the environment around us, which catches our attention and invades our senses. We do not notice ourselves, because we are the ones watching. We do not notice our judgments of others, because we don't experience our judgments - rather, we experience those around us as being a certain way.
Second Degree - the Feeler At this degree, we notice that we exist, and that we react to the world around us. We are aware we have feelings, opinions, intentions, and desires, and we are aware of ourselves as a being in the world, reacting to things around us. When we are with someone, we conceptualize two people together, interacting. We are aware of ourselves. This is the first step to consciousness.
If a co-worker walks past me without saying a word, I may say to myself, "How rude!" This is first degree awareness - I am not aware of myself or my feelings - I am only aware of the co-worker and his rudeness, real or not. My experience is that he is rude. Second degree awareness causes me to say, "I'm insulted." I am now aware of myself in relationship to the co-worker, and my reactions to his actions. This is the first step to objectivity, and allows us to see our judgments as reactions of our feelings rather than reality.
Third Degree - the Actor We discover we are an actor in the drama occurring before our eyes. Not only do we have reactions to others, we interact with them. My feelings of insult may be because of expectations I have that may not be valid, or because of failure to be aware that my co-worker has a meeting and has no time to chat, or because I happen to feel grumpy already. My reactions are in part caused by my own actions, and not entirely by my environment. This is the beginning of responsibility.
In the drama before our eyes, the watcher and the feeler were in the audience, watching the play; the actor is actually on stage, creating part of the drama that is happening. We are now an active part of the story being created.
Fourth Degree - the Director We become aware that in this drama, we are not only acting our own part, but in our minds, we are creating the characters and situations we see around us. People become who we want them to become, and situations take shape the way we want them to take shape. If we want to see someone as cruel, we will notice every nuance that could be interpreted that way, and write off every bit of counter-evidence. The person afraid of abandonment keeps seeing abandonment in the actions of everyone he gets close to. The world conforms entirely to the drama we are caught in, and the other actors appear to take on the roles we want them to have. We recreate our story, using others to fulfill the necessary parts of the drama.
Fifth Degree - the Playwright Finally, we discover that we are the authors of the entire drama, from beginning to end. It doesn't just happen to us as victims of a tragic story - on some level, we have written the story, enlisted the players, given everyone their lines, delved deeply into the drama to recreate the feelings, and then watched from a distance as the story of our life goes by.
What next? Surprisingly, when we become aware, we do not feel despair, but rather a lightening of the load. It is the truth that sets us free. We no longer have to act out our drama. When we are fully aware of the reality, we stop acting, because reality is much more satisfying than the endless repetition of unconscious urges. Realizing that it was just a dream, we wake up, get up, stretch our limbs, and look out on a new day.
Wednesday, May 21, 2003
The Dance of Life
At any given moment in our lives, there are things we can do, and things we can't do - there are open doors and closed doors. At every moment, that configuration changes slightly - something new becomes possible, a new opportunity arises, a new person comes into our life. And some doors close - the weather turns and we can't do the picnic, we get sick and can't work, the traffic light turns red.
Dancing with life involves being aware of what is available and what is not, and moving with it. It means seizing the opportunity before us, and letting go of opportunities past. It means going through the open doors and stop pushing on the closed ones.
Dancing with life involves a lot of letting go. There are many things we demand of the universe that we simply can't have - perfection of ourselves and others, staying young, people behaving as we think they should. When we have no control over something or someone, dancing means letting go and finding a way of accepting what is and flowing with it.
Dancing also means being aware of when our energy can merge with the universe and produce new life. It means realizing when the power to change the world truly lies in our hands, and then freely choosing how to respond.
Dancing with grace means flowing smoothly, without strain, responding quickly to the lead, willing to change in the moment if it is right to do. When opportunities change, we move instantly to the next one, rather than wasting energy resenting the change to our plans. Dancing with life is living in the moment, and letting go of our investment in past directions.
Dancing with life involves being aware of what is available and what is not, and moving with it. It means seizing the opportunity before us, and letting go of opportunities past. It means going through the open doors and stop pushing on the closed ones.
Dancing with life involves a lot of letting go. There are many things we demand of the universe that we simply can't have - perfection of ourselves and others, staying young, people behaving as we think they should. When we have no control over something or someone, dancing means letting go and finding a way of accepting what is and flowing with it.
Dancing also means being aware of when our energy can merge with the universe and produce new life. It means realizing when the power to change the world truly lies in our hands, and then freely choosing how to respond.
Dancing with grace means flowing smoothly, without strain, responding quickly to the lead, willing to change in the moment if it is right to do. When opportunities change, we move instantly to the next one, rather than wasting energy resenting the change to our plans. Dancing with life is living in the moment, and letting go of our investment in past directions.
Thursday, May 15, 2003
Unlimited
It's not until you fully embrace where you are that you can be somewhere else.
It's not until you fully embrace who you are that you can love someone else.
It's not until you fully embrace your limitations that you can become unlimited.
It's not until you fully embrace who you are that you can love someone else.
It's not until you fully embrace your limitations that you can become unlimited.
Tuesday, May 13, 2003
How Complete the Illusion
When our primitive nature rises up - when we are angry, hurt, frightened, jealous, when we believe we are right, when we believe we are nothing - our intellect and reason fades away, and we reinterpret all the myrid clues around us to match our feelings. We see others as evil, or out to get us, or stupid, or we see ourselves as ignorant, weak, despised. As the feelings rise, the manipulation of the evidence increases, until the illusion is complete.
It is not that we consciously lie to ourselves. The world really appears as we believe it is. Evidence falls neatly in line, enigmas are explained, patterns emerge. The world obediently conforms to our story of what is true, and nothing to the contrary exists.
When we emerge again into reality, we feel shame that we believed so fervently in something that now looks silly. We may defend our posture fervently, convincing no one but ourselves of our rightness. Or we may quickly shove our recent interpretation of reality under the rug, even denying that we really believed it.
We are so used to this strange phenomena that we barely notice it. Someone yells at someone, "You're an idiot!", and we ignore the fact that they have suddenly left reality and are indulging in a fantasy that someone else is the sole cause of their anxiety. When they return to reason, no one remarks on how strange it is that we can so suddenly believe things so strongly that are so contrary to reality, and to our own beliefs minutes later.
Our civilized minds are like cell phones - we never know when we will lose the signal.
It is not that we consciously lie to ourselves. The world really appears as we believe it is. Evidence falls neatly in line, enigmas are explained, patterns emerge. The world obediently conforms to our story of what is true, and nothing to the contrary exists.
When we emerge again into reality, we feel shame that we believed so fervently in something that now looks silly. We may defend our posture fervently, convincing no one but ourselves of our rightness. Or we may quickly shove our recent interpretation of reality under the rug, even denying that we really believed it.
We are so used to this strange phenomena that we barely notice it. Someone yells at someone, "You're an idiot!", and we ignore the fact that they have suddenly left reality and are indulging in a fantasy that someone else is the sole cause of their anxiety. When they return to reason, no one remarks on how strange it is that we can so suddenly believe things so strongly that are so contrary to reality, and to our own beliefs minutes later.
Our civilized minds are like cell phones - we never know when we will lose the signal.
Commitment
The word that makes single men shudder. The word that conjures up chains and lifetime obligations that one can't get out of.
The reason for commitment to a belief, action, or person is to compensate for the times when our primitive nature takes over and we lose sight of what we want. Commitment is like a stake in the ground - when we have clear vision of what we want, we can stake it out, write it down, commit it to memory, or do something so that we have a place to come back to when we forget what our values are. When I am in my right mind, I know I want to spend more caring and fun time with my son - I believe it will be good for both of us, and enhance the relationship. When I am running around doing a million things, suddenly going out to McDonalds together doesn't seem very important. It seems obvious that many other things are much more critical.
But if I have made a conscious commitment to spend more time, I will remember that I made it, and even though I might not be able to remember the wisdom in that commitment at the moment, I know I knew the wisdom of it when I made it, and I can exercise some trust in my own past judgment, rather than being swayed by the feelings of the moment.
Making a formal commitment can seem silly and unnecessary - it may seem obvious what the right thing to do is. But in the heat of passion, if our commitment is not clear, we will not know which way to turn. It is like a fire drill - it seems pretty silly when there is no danger, but when smoke is in our eyes, we will be glad we have a memory of the right way to go.
The reason for commitment to a belief, action, or person is to compensate for the times when our primitive nature takes over and we lose sight of what we want. Commitment is like a stake in the ground - when we have clear vision of what we want, we can stake it out, write it down, commit it to memory, or do something so that we have a place to come back to when we forget what our values are. When I am in my right mind, I know I want to spend more caring and fun time with my son - I believe it will be good for both of us, and enhance the relationship. When I am running around doing a million things, suddenly going out to McDonalds together doesn't seem very important. It seems obvious that many other things are much more critical.
But if I have made a conscious commitment to spend more time, I will remember that I made it, and even though I might not be able to remember the wisdom in that commitment at the moment, I know I knew the wisdom of it when I made it, and I can exercise some trust in my own past judgment, rather than being swayed by the feelings of the moment.
Making a formal commitment can seem silly and unnecessary - it may seem obvious what the right thing to do is. But in the heat of passion, if our commitment is not clear, we will not know which way to turn. It is like a fire drill - it seems pretty silly when there is no danger, but when smoke is in our eyes, we will be glad we have a memory of the right way to go.