During a group discussion this week, my friend shared a very useful analogy for describing the ego thought system. For you musicians out there, this may be especially poignant. Bob compared the ego thought system to the feedback loop that is created when an electric guitar is brought in front of an amplifier. You non-musicians can likely recall your favorite rock star’s dissonant sounds as he/she holds their guitar up to the speaker, shakes it a little (the guitar), and produces a siren like tone.
Imagine for a minute that you are the musician, all decked out in your tight pants and complicated shoes (or whatever your favorite rocker wears). You are the musician, but you are convinced that your life is the feedback loop. You’ll move around a bit, change the angle of the guitar, even shake it a bit trying to find a pleasing tone, but these seem to be the limits of your options. Paralyzed by fear, you stand there, not knowing what to do, but believing that your life depends on keeping this dissonant noise going.
Welcome to the ego thought system. Our fear keeps us beholden to the prison of a feedback loop that we believe is our life. It is clear when you look upon the musician from the outside that neither the effort expensed nor the tones of his “life” suit him, yet here we stand – holding the guitar, manipulating the screams, and blind to the choice.
The alternative, of course, is to remove the power from the loop. If the musician had any inkling that his life didn’t depend on the feedback loop, he could merely pull the plug, walk away, and return to playing the Melody of his True Identity.
We have the same choice with the ego thought system. We give it the only power that it has. It is nothing, but it is a nothing that we believe is us.
Unplug today from the judgment that is the ego’s feedback loop. Walk away from the guilt that keeps you prisoner to the ego’s dissonance and raucous screams.
You are the Musician. You are not the loop. Share your Song and remember your Self today.
T.29.IX.8:4-5 And in these dreams a melody is heard that everyone remembers, though he has not heard it since before all time began. Forgiveness, once complete, brings timelessness so close the song of Heaven can be heard…
Thanks for being our teacher, Bob.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Sunday, February 22, 2009
The Purpose of Sickness
I’ve been sick for a couple of days – congestion, aches, chills, sneezing, coughing, etc. The funny thing about physical illness is that it has a distinct way of focusing one’s will. When we’re sick, we just want to be well. At least it seems that way.
As I’m wont to do, I found myself pondering the purpose of physical illness while sipping my Theraflu and warming my soup - admittedly with a somewhat clouded brain, so bear with me.
Nothing screams “here’s the problem” like physical illness. When our heads hurt, our bodies ache, and our noses create puddles on the pillow, the problem seems apparent. Like everybody else, I sought out the normal remedies including vitamin C, rest, liquids, doctor visit, and chicken noodle soup. Today, I feel better.
So what happened? As we’ve often said, what happened depends on the purpose that I ascribe. The individualized self (ego) needs the problem (sickness) to be in the world. This serves two purposes: 1) to keep us distracted and unaware of the source of the problem 2) to create the appearance that we’ve rid ourselves of the problem. In other words, we believe the problem is here (a sick body), and we see the source outside of ourselves (a virus).
In Reality, nothing has happened, but in our insane dream of sickness, we all play our roles. Today I’m the sick one. Tomorrow, it will be you, and I’ll return to seeming “health”. The sickness isn’t gone, it has just moved. These roles demand that we recognize the sickness here and try to fix it here. Doesn’t matter if I’m the fixer or the fixee. Doesn’t matter if we utilize medicine, natural alternatives, or spirituality to minister to what ails us, the result is the same. We simply reinforce the sickness and the thought system that made it.
Health and sickness are two edges of the same sword. Our seeming desire to be well is really a veiled wish to hold on to sickness, an unconscious wish to stay asleep. We only know “health” in relation to sickness. Our idea of health depends on sickness. The pain of the illness is indicative of how badly we want the problem to be here. We will even martyr ourselves to our god of sickness to make it so.
Note: The same can be said for every other pursuit here. Whether it is a “healthy” relationship, bank account, body or planet, the dynamics are the same. The purpose is to keep us unaware of the real problem and focused where the problem is not.
But the sickness isn’t here. The sickness is the thought system that here protects. The thought system is a desert. There is no life in the desert. We can’t fix up the seeming effects of a lifeless desert and call it “health”. (For some reason, I’m reminded of lipstick and a pig.) The only hope in a desert is to leave it. Now, let me be very clear. I am not talking about leaving the world. I am talking about leaving the thought system that the world protects. The only way to do that is through the shifted purpose of forgiveness, which means a shifted purpose for the world. The only obstacle, as we’ve discussed prior, is our willingness.
So, what does that look like? Our day-to-day encounter with the desert reveals little saguaro cacti hands pointing in myriad directions at countless guilty forms. Each telling us that this is the problem and that is the solution – that is the problem and this is the solution. (Okay, maybe this metaphor is where you have to bear with me.) That’s where we get stuck (again, bear), because we don’t realize that we’ve told them where to point.
The solution is remembering that we give purpose to the little pointing saguaro cacti hands. With changed purpose, the little cacti hands of the desert all point back to me, reminding me that the problem isn’t the desert. The problem is my decision for the desert (and by the way, the desert is guilt). Even closer to the truth, the problem is my need for the desert. Only then, can I begin to recognize how badly I must want it, how willing I am to suffer for it. This is useful, because now I’m aware of the obstacle. Now, with awareness of the decision, I can make the only meaningful choice and leave the desert (undo the guilt). From ACIM T.10.IV.5:7 What you have made is so unworthy of you that you could hardly want it, if you were willing to see it as it is. Now, I see the purpose of both sickness and health. Now, healing my seemingly sick body has no meaning, because I’ve given it a new purpose – undoing instead of reinforcing, salvation instead of attack, resurrection instead of crucifixion. Yes, I still sip my Theraflu and warm my soup, but with new purpose, now they serve a different teacher.
I’ve often quipped that the sick are closer to heaven than the healthy. Obviously, this has no meaning in Reality, but the point is that the sick (again read: depressed, unhappy, ill, etc.) are typically more motivated than the “healthy”. For the sick, the pain is acute; it is right there. Motivation is high. Sometimes, the sick have that extra little willingness to consider that there might just be another way. The challenge for us seemingly healthy folks (and I am feeling much better today) is recognizing that “healthy” merely veils the sword and that the real sickness is the value we place on the difference.
T.10.IV.3:1 The Sonship cannot be perceived as partly sick, because to perceive it that way is not to perceive it at all.
As I’m wont to do, I found myself pondering the purpose of physical illness while sipping my Theraflu and warming my soup - admittedly with a somewhat clouded brain, so bear with me.
Nothing screams “here’s the problem” like physical illness. When our heads hurt, our bodies ache, and our noses create puddles on the pillow, the problem seems apparent. Like everybody else, I sought out the normal remedies including vitamin C, rest, liquids, doctor visit, and chicken noodle soup. Today, I feel better.
So what happened? As we’ve often said, what happened depends on the purpose that I ascribe. The individualized self (ego) needs the problem (sickness) to be in the world. This serves two purposes: 1) to keep us distracted and unaware of the source of the problem 2) to create the appearance that we’ve rid ourselves of the problem. In other words, we believe the problem is here (a sick body), and we see the source outside of ourselves (a virus).
In Reality, nothing has happened, but in our insane dream of sickness, we all play our roles. Today I’m the sick one. Tomorrow, it will be you, and I’ll return to seeming “health”. The sickness isn’t gone, it has just moved. These roles demand that we recognize the sickness here and try to fix it here. Doesn’t matter if I’m the fixer or the fixee. Doesn’t matter if we utilize medicine, natural alternatives, or spirituality to minister to what ails us, the result is the same. We simply reinforce the sickness and the thought system that made it.
Health and sickness are two edges of the same sword. Our seeming desire to be well is really a veiled wish to hold on to sickness, an unconscious wish to stay asleep. We only know “health” in relation to sickness. Our idea of health depends on sickness. The pain of the illness is indicative of how badly we want the problem to be here. We will even martyr ourselves to our god of sickness to make it so.
Note: The same can be said for every other pursuit here. Whether it is a “healthy” relationship, bank account, body or planet, the dynamics are the same. The purpose is to keep us unaware of the real problem and focused where the problem is not.
But the sickness isn’t here. The sickness is the thought system that here protects. The thought system is a desert. There is no life in the desert. We can’t fix up the seeming effects of a lifeless desert and call it “health”. (For some reason, I’m reminded of lipstick and a pig.) The only hope in a desert is to leave it. Now, let me be very clear. I am not talking about leaving the world. I am talking about leaving the thought system that the world protects. The only way to do that is through the shifted purpose of forgiveness, which means a shifted purpose for the world. The only obstacle, as we’ve discussed prior, is our willingness.
So, what does that look like? Our day-to-day encounter with the desert reveals little saguaro cacti hands pointing in myriad directions at countless guilty forms. Each telling us that this is the problem and that is the solution – that is the problem and this is the solution. (Okay, maybe this metaphor is where you have to bear with me.) That’s where we get stuck (again, bear), because we don’t realize that we’ve told them where to point.
The solution is remembering that we give purpose to the little pointing saguaro cacti hands. With changed purpose, the little cacti hands of the desert all point back to me, reminding me that the problem isn’t the desert. The problem is my decision for the desert (and by the way, the desert is guilt). Even closer to the truth, the problem is my need for the desert. Only then, can I begin to recognize how badly I must want it, how willing I am to suffer for it. This is useful, because now I’m aware of the obstacle. Now, with awareness of the decision, I can make the only meaningful choice and leave the desert (undo the guilt). From ACIM T.10.IV.5:7 What you have made is so unworthy of you that you could hardly want it, if you were willing to see it as it is. Now, I see the purpose of both sickness and health. Now, healing my seemingly sick body has no meaning, because I’ve given it a new purpose – undoing instead of reinforcing, salvation instead of attack, resurrection instead of crucifixion. Yes, I still sip my Theraflu and warm my soup, but with new purpose, now they serve a different teacher.
I’ve often quipped that the sick are closer to heaven than the healthy. Obviously, this has no meaning in Reality, but the point is that the sick (again read: depressed, unhappy, ill, etc.) are typically more motivated than the “healthy”. For the sick, the pain is acute; it is right there. Motivation is high. Sometimes, the sick have that extra little willingness to consider that there might just be another way. The challenge for us seemingly healthy folks (and I am feeling much better today) is recognizing that “healthy” merely veils the sword and that the real sickness is the value we place on the difference.
T.10.IV.3:1 The Sonship cannot be perceived as partly sick, because to perceive it that way is not to perceive it at all.
Monday, February 16, 2009
The Problem with Perception (Part 6 of 6)
Merrily Merrily Merrily
Life is but a dream. I am certainly not the first to recognize the usefulness of the metaphor of the dream. From children’s songs to Shakespeare, Plato, and the Gnostics, we find references to life being a dream. When we think about our journey here, many of us speak of it as an awakening, at a minimum implying that we are asleep. When asked by his followers who he was, the Buddha said, “I am none of these things, what I am is awake.” The Bible suggests that “a deep sleep fell upon Adam”; there is no reference to him waking up. History is replete with these references. Why? Let’s start with our sleeping dreams.
Think about your sleeping dreams for a moment. When you are asleep, do you not believe that what is happening is real? Unless you are having a lucid dream, a dream during which you recognize that you are dreaming, you do. We all do. We all believe that what happens in the dream is actually happening to us. Adhering to the “reality” set up in the mind, the body often reacts accordingly. Our heart beats faster when we’re running or frightened in the dream. We can be observed talking, screaming, or laughing while fast asleep. As a student recently pointed out during a class, sometimes our bodies react to the seemingly specific physical stimulation in the dream by responding with a particularly pleasurable experience! Convincing things, these dreams.
When we awaken from a sleeping dream, we recognize that all of the people in the dream are gone. Everything that seemed to happen didn’t actually happen, and with few exceptions (most notably those referenced by the aforementioned student!), the dreams had no real effect. Think about who you are in the dream. Typically, you are not the person lying in bed having the dream. In fact, often times, you are not even you. You may be a younger version of you, a superhero version of you, etc. The people in your waking life who show up in your dreams rarely look like themselves either. You know it is you and you know it is them, because of the content that you ascribe to them in the dream. We may not recognize the form once we awaken, but in the dream, these changed forms point to familiar content.
Our sleeping dreams are another useful example of the denial, projection, and identification dynamic. When we’re asleep and dreaming, we deny the reality of our body in the bed, and we project a new story, a new reality, which includes those who are not us and the one with whom we identify. When we wake up, we recognize that we were the dreamer of the dream, not the figure in the dream with whom we had identified. We recognize that all of the figures were within our mind. There was no external reality to our dream. Everything in it was representative of something in our mind. That’s why so many therapists and psychologist spend so much time analyzing dreams; they often reveal what is actually going on in the depths of our minds. In general, we have become fairly comfortable with the notion that our sleeping dreams are symbolic and provide insight into what is in our mind. Rarely, do we consider that the same dynamic may play out in our seeming waking state.
So, as a symbol, what does the dream mean? What is the purpose of the dream? Freud offered some brilliant insight into our sleeping dreams. Freud said that there is one wish that every dream is intended to fulfill. Although the wish assumes various forms, the wish is always to stay asleep. We dream to avoid having to wake up, because we want to sleep. That is the purpose of the dream. Think about your sleeping dreams. Have you ever noticed that when the phone rings in the house or we have to go to the bathroom that we will work the sound or the discomfort into our dream? The purpose? To keep us asleep. The mind recognizes that in a conscious state we would pick up the phone or go to the bathroom, so it keeps us unconscious by working those stimuli into the dream. Dreaming is a defense against waking up. At some point in the dream, the desire to wake up overtakes the desire to sleep, and we wake up.
Mindful perception uses the metaphor of our sleeping dream to inform our waking experience. We are not saying that our waking experience and our sleeping experience are the same. Obviously, the forms are different, but as we’ve established, form is too variable, too subjective to be useful in this context. Purpose is what is important. What we are saying is that our everyday waking experience has the same purpose as our sleeping dreams. The purpose of both is to stay asleep. That’s the problem with perception.
Life is but a dream. I am certainly not the first to recognize the usefulness of the metaphor of the dream. From children’s songs to Shakespeare, Plato, and the Gnostics, we find references to life being a dream. When we think about our journey here, many of us speak of it as an awakening, at a minimum implying that we are asleep. When asked by his followers who he was, the Buddha said, “I am none of these things, what I am is awake.” The Bible suggests that “a deep sleep fell upon Adam”; there is no reference to him waking up. History is replete with these references. Why? Let’s start with our sleeping dreams.
Think about your sleeping dreams for a moment. When you are asleep, do you not believe that what is happening is real? Unless you are having a lucid dream, a dream during which you recognize that you are dreaming, you do. We all do. We all believe that what happens in the dream is actually happening to us. Adhering to the “reality” set up in the mind, the body often reacts accordingly. Our heart beats faster when we’re running or frightened in the dream. We can be observed talking, screaming, or laughing while fast asleep. As a student recently pointed out during a class, sometimes our bodies react to the seemingly specific physical stimulation in the dream by responding with a particularly pleasurable experience! Convincing things, these dreams.
When we awaken from a sleeping dream, we recognize that all of the people in the dream are gone. Everything that seemed to happen didn’t actually happen, and with few exceptions (most notably those referenced by the aforementioned student!), the dreams had no real effect. Think about who you are in the dream. Typically, you are not the person lying in bed having the dream. In fact, often times, you are not even you. You may be a younger version of you, a superhero version of you, etc. The people in your waking life who show up in your dreams rarely look like themselves either. You know it is you and you know it is them, because of the content that you ascribe to them in the dream. We may not recognize the form once we awaken, but in the dream, these changed forms point to familiar content.
Our sleeping dreams are another useful example of the denial, projection, and identification dynamic. When we’re asleep and dreaming, we deny the reality of our body in the bed, and we project a new story, a new reality, which includes those who are not us and the one with whom we identify. When we wake up, we recognize that we were the dreamer of the dream, not the figure in the dream with whom we had identified. We recognize that all of the figures were within our mind. There was no external reality to our dream. Everything in it was representative of something in our mind. That’s why so many therapists and psychologist spend so much time analyzing dreams; they often reveal what is actually going on in the depths of our minds. In general, we have become fairly comfortable with the notion that our sleeping dreams are symbolic and provide insight into what is in our mind. Rarely, do we consider that the same dynamic may play out in our seeming waking state.
So, as a symbol, what does the dream mean? What is the purpose of the dream? Freud offered some brilliant insight into our sleeping dreams. Freud said that there is one wish that every dream is intended to fulfill. Although the wish assumes various forms, the wish is always to stay asleep. We dream to avoid having to wake up, because we want to sleep. That is the purpose of the dream. Think about your sleeping dreams. Have you ever noticed that when the phone rings in the house or we have to go to the bathroom that we will work the sound or the discomfort into our dream? The purpose? To keep us asleep. The mind recognizes that in a conscious state we would pick up the phone or go to the bathroom, so it keeps us unconscious by working those stimuli into the dream. Dreaming is a defense against waking up. At some point in the dream, the desire to wake up overtakes the desire to sleep, and we wake up.
Mindful perception uses the metaphor of our sleeping dream to inform our waking experience. We are not saying that our waking experience and our sleeping experience are the same. Obviously, the forms are different, but as we’ve established, form is too variable, too subjective to be useful in this context. Purpose is what is important. What we are saying is that our everyday waking experience has the same purpose as our sleeping dreams. The purpose of both is to stay asleep. That’s the problem with perception.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Remembering to Laugh
If guilt is taking our judgment (specialness) seriously, then undoing our guilt (forgiveness) is not taking our judgment so seriously.
From ACIM T.27.VIII.6:2-3
Into eternity (Love, Heaven, Everything), where all is one, there crept a tiny, mad idea (attack, separation, specialness), at which the Son of God (all of us as one) remembered not to laugh . In his forgetting did the thought become a serious idea, and possible of both accomplishment and real effects. (Parentheses mine)
This clearly isn’t a derisive or divisive laugh. This is the gentle laugh, the compassionate smile, which accompanies changed purpose.
One of my favorite teachers was recently speaking to me about a specific problem with another person in his life. Like many of us who have considered such things, he was fairly quick to withdraw the projection of guilt from the other individual, but still identifying with part of the projection (his body), he became the object of his ire.
He said that now he just felt stupid – stupid for projecting. Yes, forgiveness recognizes that the guilt I see out there is a projection, so withdrawing it is useful. But don’t stop there. We can’t be here and not project guilt – either on somebody else or on ourselves. That’s what here is. The process of forgiveness then helps us recognize (undo) the purpose of here. Instead of justifying the guilt, forgiveness looks upon guilt with the gentle chuckle of recognition that it isn’t what it appears to be. Perhaps, for my friend, forgiveness was the journey from stupid to silly…and silly brought a smile.
“Stupid” reflects the wall of granite that we’ve interposed between ourselves and our Truth. It says the guilt is real and most importantly, justified. “Silly” changes the wall to a thin wispy veil, a veil so fragile that the tiniest breath surrenders it. Instead of beating ourselves up (taking the guilt seriously), we recognize that it was simply a silly mistake to think that everything could have an opposite and even sillier to think that nothing could have an effect.
Forgiveness is remembering – remembering that the decision for guilt is the problem and that a gentle smile of undoing is the solution.
So, remember to laugh from time to time today. Even if you don’t disappear into the heart of Love, you will feel better.
From ACIM T.27.VIII.6:2-3
Into eternity (Love, Heaven, Everything), where all is one, there crept a tiny, mad idea (attack, separation, specialness), at which the Son of God (all of us as one) remembered not to laugh . In his forgetting did the thought become a serious idea, and possible of both accomplishment and real effects. (Parentheses mine)
This clearly isn’t a derisive or divisive laugh. This is the gentle laugh, the compassionate smile, which accompanies changed purpose.
One of my favorite teachers was recently speaking to me about a specific problem with another person in his life. Like many of us who have considered such things, he was fairly quick to withdraw the projection of guilt from the other individual, but still identifying with part of the projection (his body), he became the object of his ire.
He said that now he just felt stupid – stupid for projecting. Yes, forgiveness recognizes that the guilt I see out there is a projection, so withdrawing it is useful. But don’t stop there. We can’t be here and not project guilt – either on somebody else or on ourselves. That’s what here is. The process of forgiveness then helps us recognize (undo) the purpose of here. Instead of justifying the guilt, forgiveness looks upon guilt with the gentle chuckle of recognition that it isn’t what it appears to be. Perhaps, for my friend, forgiveness was the journey from stupid to silly…and silly brought a smile.
“Stupid” reflects the wall of granite that we’ve interposed between ourselves and our Truth. It says the guilt is real and most importantly, justified. “Silly” changes the wall to a thin wispy veil, a veil so fragile that the tiniest breath surrenders it. Instead of beating ourselves up (taking the guilt seriously), we recognize that it was simply a silly mistake to think that everything could have an opposite and even sillier to think that nothing could have an effect.
Forgiveness is remembering – remembering that the decision for guilt is the problem and that a gentle smile of undoing is the solution.
So, remember to laugh from time to time today. Even if you don’t disappear into the heart of Love, you will feel better.
Monday, February 9, 2009
The Problem with Perception (Part 5 of 6)
Just Another Day at the Movies
Mindful perception is the idea that all of perception, everything we see and everything we experience, is the projected result of what we wish to be. Just like we project the guilt of the broken candy dish on a neighbor, we project the guilt of a broken identity on to the world. Mindful perception differs from Webster’s definition in one very important way. Mindful perception does not merely take cognizance of objects outside of the mind, but rather recognizes that we use perception to fulfill a goal. Mindful perception recognizes perception’s primary purpose: witnessing differences. Everything that I think is outside of my mind is really a reflection of what is inside. The world that we perceive is but a projection of our thought about the world and therefore our thought about ourselves. Mindful perception, then, recognizes that it is projection. All of it, everything I see, hear, smell, touch or taste, is a projection; again, a projection based on what I want myself to be.
Imagine your life as a big 3D movie – without the stylish glasses. There’s a beginning, an end, characters, plots, etc. In this movie, this one that we’ve dubbed “life,” we see no projector. Oh, it is there, but we’re not aware of it at all. With projector denied, we have no conscious memory of it, no memory that in fact we chose the film and flipped the “on” switch. This movie is our one “reality” and the only means by which we know ourselves. With no awareness that the movie is a projection, we seem to have little choice but to identify with it. We identify with what we split off to, what is left, and we deny what we split off from. The movie now seems to be where all the action is. It is our “life.” We look to the screen to inform us of who we are not - thereby establishing who we are. We interact with the characters and the images that we perceive, and we recognize ourselves as one of the characters in the film. Remember, we’re actually back there in the projection booth, but we’ve denied, projected, and identified ourselves out of the booth and on to the screen. We could simply change the film or turn off the projector, if we had the faintest hint that we had a choice.
Now, remember our definition of perception from part 1: perception is an illusion of reality based on our own interpretation of sensory data filtered through the lens of our own awareness. In our movie house, that lens of awareness is the lens of the movie projector. Whatever film is selected for the projector, your film, my film, etc. is filtered by this lens. If there is a smudge or a fly on the lens, it shows up on the screen. If it is blurry or out of focus, we don’t even know until somebody suggests that there might be another way to look at the screen and we whip out those smart glasses. Most of us are simply resigned to a blurry world. As for the fly? Knowing that there is a fly on the lens, most of us would agree that trying to kill the fly on the screen would be more than just a little insane; however, with no awareness of anything but the images on the screen, we continue to swat at the shadows.
Mindful perception changes the world immediately, because we experience the world differently. Instead of being a character in the movie, we begin to recognize that we are indeed the one in the projection booth running the projector playing the film of our choosing with the means to clean the lens or don the cool shades. We change the world by changing our orientation to the world. Mindful perception illuminates the causal relationship between one’s awareness (the lens) and what one perceives (the images on the screen). Mindful perception is not a physical experience but rather a psychological experience, an experience of meaning. The world that we perceive is a projection of our thought about the world. If we want to know what is in our mind, the film in the projector, mindful perception says that we simply need to look at the world, the movie. It is all there. It is all there, because we put it there. We put it there, because we need it there. Who we want to be depends on it.
Mindful perception is the idea that all of perception, everything we see and everything we experience, is the projected result of what we wish to be. Just like we project the guilt of the broken candy dish on a neighbor, we project the guilt of a broken identity on to the world. Mindful perception differs from Webster’s definition in one very important way. Mindful perception does not merely take cognizance of objects outside of the mind, but rather recognizes that we use perception to fulfill a goal. Mindful perception recognizes perception’s primary purpose: witnessing differences. Everything that I think is outside of my mind is really a reflection of what is inside. The world that we perceive is but a projection of our thought about the world and therefore our thought about ourselves. Mindful perception, then, recognizes that it is projection. All of it, everything I see, hear, smell, touch or taste, is a projection; again, a projection based on what I want myself to be.
Imagine your life as a big 3D movie – without the stylish glasses. There’s a beginning, an end, characters, plots, etc. In this movie, this one that we’ve dubbed “life,” we see no projector. Oh, it is there, but we’re not aware of it at all. With projector denied, we have no conscious memory of it, no memory that in fact we chose the film and flipped the “on” switch. This movie is our one “reality” and the only means by which we know ourselves. With no awareness that the movie is a projection, we seem to have little choice but to identify with it. We identify with what we split off to, what is left, and we deny what we split off from. The movie now seems to be where all the action is. It is our “life.” We look to the screen to inform us of who we are not - thereby establishing who we are. We interact with the characters and the images that we perceive, and we recognize ourselves as one of the characters in the film. Remember, we’re actually back there in the projection booth, but we’ve denied, projected, and identified ourselves out of the booth and on to the screen. We could simply change the film or turn off the projector, if we had the faintest hint that we had a choice.
Now, remember our definition of perception from part 1: perception is an illusion of reality based on our own interpretation of sensory data filtered through the lens of our own awareness. In our movie house, that lens of awareness is the lens of the movie projector. Whatever film is selected for the projector, your film, my film, etc. is filtered by this lens. If there is a smudge or a fly on the lens, it shows up on the screen. If it is blurry or out of focus, we don’t even know until somebody suggests that there might be another way to look at the screen and we whip out those smart glasses. Most of us are simply resigned to a blurry world. As for the fly? Knowing that there is a fly on the lens, most of us would agree that trying to kill the fly on the screen would be more than just a little insane; however, with no awareness of anything but the images on the screen, we continue to swat at the shadows.
Mindful perception changes the world immediately, because we experience the world differently. Instead of being a character in the movie, we begin to recognize that we are indeed the one in the projection booth running the projector playing the film of our choosing with the means to clean the lens or don the cool shades. We change the world by changing our orientation to the world. Mindful perception illuminates the causal relationship between one’s awareness (the lens) and what one perceives (the images on the screen). Mindful perception is not a physical experience but rather a psychological experience, an experience of meaning. The world that we perceive is a projection of our thought about the world. If we want to know what is in our mind, the film in the projector, mindful perception says that we simply need to look at the world, the movie. It is all there. It is all there, because we put it there. We put it there, because we need it there. Who we want to be depends on it.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
The Problem with Teachers
We are all teaching – all of the time. Every minute of every hour of every day, we are teaching ourselves who we are. We are teaching ourselves that separation is real and wholeness is not, or we are teaching ourselves that Love is real and specialness is merely a crazy dream. The problem with teachers is that sometimes we forget.
Sometimes we get so caught up in the drama of our daily lives or the roles that we play, that we forget what is really going on here. Sometimes we think we’re teaching history or algebra. Sometimes we think we’re teaching joy or love. Sometimes we even think we are teaching A Course in Miracles! Oh certainly, in form we are teaching these things, but underneath, we are reinforcing a decision, the decision of identity. (And don’t be fooled into thinking that the one teaching history is doing anything different from the one teaching the blue book. They have the same purpose in the crazy dream, and they have the same purpose when released from the crazy dream.)
We teach what we most need to learn. The problem is that so often we are mistaken about what we are actually teaching - especially those of us who seem to be teaching spirituality and love. We teach what we most need to learn, because teaching and learning are the same. If Love is wholeness and oneness is our reality, we are both the teacher and the learner. Yes, it seems different in form. As is always the case, “seems” is the operative word. We are indeed but teaching ourselves.
Now, in the practical world of form, teaching and learning have some pitfalls, as one of my favorite and funky teachers recently pointed out. Here, in the world, these concepts seem like opposites. They seem like opposites, because here depends on opposites – or at least some fairly significant shades of gray. What we must remember, is that we make the decision for these differences. We always set the curriculum first, and then we use the world to prove our case believing that it is the world that is showing us what it is rather than us telling the world what it is. The form may indeed seem funky, but we choose what it means. We always choose the content.
If we believe we can teach something other than Love (and we all do), then we must believe that there is something other than Love. With that firmly established in our mind, we find opportunities that prove that we are great teachers of truth and light from time to time, and then we find equal opportunities that teach us that we have failed. We look upon a world that doesn’t “get it” and wish that it did, or we feel the guilt of our own failed lessons. Neither suits you, teacher. Let go of the judgment that creates the sense of obligation to do or say the “right” thing. We don’t know what love looks like. How could we with eyes that were made to stop at form? Teachers trust. Teachers recognize that removing the log of judgment from our own eyes is all that is required. There is no pressure to say or do the right thing. That vanishes in an instant of will when we recognize where the problem is and where it isn’t.
Teaching Love really means undoing (forgiving) all of the obstacles (guilt) that we have erected to keep Love away. Teaching Love means demonstrating that we are the same. We are the same in the insanity that imagines that teachers have something that students lack, and we are the same in the solution that reminds that teachers and students are one in purpose. Forgiveness is the process that undoes the former and makes way for the latter. So, thank you for being my teacher. Thank you for being my student. And thank you for forgiving me the judgment that would have them be different.
Sometimes we get so caught up in the drama of our daily lives or the roles that we play, that we forget what is really going on here. Sometimes we think we’re teaching history or algebra. Sometimes we think we’re teaching joy or love. Sometimes we even think we are teaching A Course in Miracles! Oh certainly, in form we are teaching these things, but underneath, we are reinforcing a decision, the decision of identity. (And don’t be fooled into thinking that the one teaching history is doing anything different from the one teaching the blue book. They have the same purpose in the crazy dream, and they have the same purpose when released from the crazy dream.)
We teach what we most need to learn. The problem is that so often we are mistaken about what we are actually teaching - especially those of us who seem to be teaching spirituality and love. We teach what we most need to learn, because teaching and learning are the same. If Love is wholeness and oneness is our reality, we are both the teacher and the learner. Yes, it seems different in form. As is always the case, “seems” is the operative word. We are indeed but teaching ourselves.
Now, in the practical world of form, teaching and learning have some pitfalls, as one of my favorite and funky teachers recently pointed out. Here, in the world, these concepts seem like opposites. They seem like opposites, because here depends on opposites – or at least some fairly significant shades of gray. What we must remember, is that we make the decision for these differences. We always set the curriculum first, and then we use the world to prove our case believing that it is the world that is showing us what it is rather than us telling the world what it is. The form may indeed seem funky, but we choose what it means. We always choose the content.
If we believe we can teach something other than Love (and we all do), then we must believe that there is something other than Love. With that firmly established in our mind, we find opportunities that prove that we are great teachers of truth and light from time to time, and then we find equal opportunities that teach us that we have failed. We look upon a world that doesn’t “get it” and wish that it did, or we feel the guilt of our own failed lessons. Neither suits you, teacher. Let go of the judgment that creates the sense of obligation to do or say the “right” thing. We don’t know what love looks like. How could we with eyes that were made to stop at form? Teachers trust. Teachers recognize that removing the log of judgment from our own eyes is all that is required. There is no pressure to say or do the right thing. That vanishes in an instant of will when we recognize where the problem is and where it isn’t.
Teaching Love really means undoing (forgiving) all of the obstacles (guilt) that we have erected to keep Love away. Teaching Love means demonstrating that we are the same. We are the same in the insanity that imagines that teachers have something that students lack, and we are the same in the solution that reminds that teachers and students are one in purpose. Forgiveness is the process that undoes the former and makes way for the latter. So, thank you for being my teacher. Thank you for being my student. And thank you for forgiving me the judgment that would have them be different.
Monday, February 2, 2009
The Problem with Perception (Part 4 of 6)
The Candy Dish
Now, let’s talk about our favorite defense mechanisms - denial, projection, and identification. Do you remember that antique dish that Mom used to fill with butter mints for guests? It was the one in the living room that you weren’t supposed to touch. (If it wasn’t a candy dish, substitute your own “do not touch” memory here.) Imagine a time when you had all of your friends over for a round of your favorite board game: Monopoly, Clue, Risk, Scrabble, Life, Which Witch. (Anybody else remember that last one? Sorry, unintentional rabbit hole…) Imagine for a moment that your friends discover said candy dish, and as kids are wont to do, sample the fare. Your best bud unfortunately knocks the dish to the floor, and it breaks. Of course, fear would likely be the first response, but as we so often do, we cover over the fear with a plan. Super glue! The broken pieces are painstakingly reassembled, and the candy is returned to the mended dish. All seems well until Mom gets home.
Mom sees the muddy footprints near the table where the dish is, inspects the dish, and calls you over, front and center. You have to cop to the broken dish, but you instantaneously come up with a new plan. Believing that your best bud may not be welcome in the house if you tell the truth, you tell Mom that the neighbor kid, the one that she made you invite over, was the one that knocked off the dish. You try so hard to convince Mom that it was the neighbor that you even start to believe it yourself. At some point, perhaps weeks later, maybe years later, you may even forget that your best friend actually knocked off the dish.
What’s happened is an example of how we defend ourselves, how we make ourselves what we want to be, through denial, projection, and identification. Not wanting to experience the consequences of a circumstance, you deny the truth about it and project the responsibility of what happened onto somebody else. You (and your friend) now identify yourselves as innocents, and you attempt to get rid of the guilt by placing it outside of yourselves on your neighbor. The truth of the circumstance didn’t change. What you believe about it did; what you want to believe about it changed.
The same dynamic that plays out in childhood continues as we mature - at work, at home, in traffic, and even on the world stage. We can find example after example of denial, projection, and identification just about anywhere we choose to look. Few of us want to be the guilty one, the bad guy. Even more importantly, none of us want to be responsible for the whole of our circumstance. We always need somebody to shoulder at least some of the blame. Doesn’t matter if it is a person, a thing, a country, our body, the universe, even God, as long as we’re not responsible. Projection, again, is the defense mechanism that we employ to get rid of the responsibility of our guilt and the fear of its consequence. Sometimes it is overtly conscious, as in the example of the candy dish. More often than not, projection occurs unconsciously, as we so deeply identify with what projection left behind that we have no conscious memory of what the truth was before projection. Projection is a defense against the truth.
Now, let’s talk about our favorite defense mechanisms - denial, projection, and identification. Do you remember that antique dish that Mom used to fill with butter mints for guests? It was the one in the living room that you weren’t supposed to touch. (If it wasn’t a candy dish, substitute your own “do not touch” memory here.) Imagine a time when you had all of your friends over for a round of your favorite board game: Monopoly, Clue, Risk, Scrabble, Life, Which Witch. (Anybody else remember that last one? Sorry, unintentional rabbit hole…) Imagine for a moment that your friends discover said candy dish, and as kids are wont to do, sample the fare. Your best bud unfortunately knocks the dish to the floor, and it breaks. Of course, fear would likely be the first response, but as we so often do, we cover over the fear with a plan. Super glue! The broken pieces are painstakingly reassembled, and the candy is returned to the mended dish. All seems well until Mom gets home.
Mom sees the muddy footprints near the table where the dish is, inspects the dish, and calls you over, front and center. You have to cop to the broken dish, but you instantaneously come up with a new plan. Believing that your best bud may not be welcome in the house if you tell the truth, you tell Mom that the neighbor kid, the one that she made you invite over, was the one that knocked off the dish. You try so hard to convince Mom that it was the neighbor that you even start to believe it yourself. At some point, perhaps weeks later, maybe years later, you may even forget that your best friend actually knocked off the dish.
What’s happened is an example of how we defend ourselves, how we make ourselves what we want to be, through denial, projection, and identification. Not wanting to experience the consequences of a circumstance, you deny the truth about it and project the responsibility of what happened onto somebody else. You (and your friend) now identify yourselves as innocents, and you attempt to get rid of the guilt by placing it outside of yourselves on your neighbor. The truth of the circumstance didn’t change. What you believe about it did; what you want to believe about it changed.
The same dynamic that plays out in childhood continues as we mature - at work, at home, in traffic, and even on the world stage. We can find example after example of denial, projection, and identification just about anywhere we choose to look. Few of us want to be the guilty one, the bad guy. Even more importantly, none of us want to be responsible for the whole of our circumstance. We always need somebody to shoulder at least some of the blame. Doesn’t matter if it is a person, a thing, a country, our body, the universe, even God, as long as we’re not responsible. Projection, again, is the defense mechanism that we employ to get rid of the responsibility of our guilt and the fear of its consequence. Sometimes it is overtly conscious, as in the example of the candy dish. More often than not, projection occurs unconsciously, as we so deeply identify with what projection left behind that we have no conscious memory of what the truth was before projection. Projection is a defense against the truth.
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