I just had one of my worst days in a long time. What’s more, all of my cures for bad days have flown away, because I have made it so: Alcohol’s gone, I was never into weed, food is too short-lived an escape for me, I got rid of the TV (which only played DVDs but even that was tripping me up), I don’t have the Internet in my apartment, and I’m on a spiritual book detox because after a while you just can’t read anymore of that stuff. I deactivated my social media last week, I’m single, and it’s never been in me to sensibly reach out to friends or family. By the time I need to reach out, I’m already neck-deep in emotions I do not feel safe sharing with anyone.
What this means is that when I struggle, there’s not much old ego-stuff to cope (see: numb) with. Guess what? My mind hates this, and therefore punishes me with a host of even uglier feelings: Guilt, shame, loneliness. This thought, always: I feel so alone and misunderstood. Despair, isolation. Check, check, check.
The most frustrating thing about these feelings is that I understand their origin perfectly well: Loneliness survives only in a mind which is conditioned to believe it is separate from others. Loneliness has its root in wanting. Only the ego needs to be “understood;” what we are is beyond understanding. The false identity craves connection, craves intimacy, craves anything at all. In Truth these cravings dissolve before us; we realize we actually have always been (and will always be) alone, but it is not sad, it is beautiful. We are alone, but we are God; we are everyone and everything, and we are peace itself. Persistent negativity of this variety is the result of unconscious stuff that doesn’t want to be seen, and yet it also does. Whatever I still cling to, it’s the death of me. Ambivalence is a killer on this path.
I get all that intellectually, but still I remain riddled with these emotions; clutched by them, suffocated by them. I sob in bed and ask for help and for a long time there is nothing but silence. Usually, whenever I next open my computer or pick up a book, there’s something there for me to read that helps. In this way I know my prayers are actually heard.
And yet I am a person. I’m still highly flawed and irritated with myself, especially with the fact that I’m highly flawed and irritated with myself. This is not about me having an unrealistic expectation about being “perfect,” but about going the whole way into spiritual freedom, all while knowing that my ego is fighting to protect something that will definitely crumble one day anyway.
There’s something gnawing in me that wants to make itself known: This is not bipolar depression, mmkay? (Even if it was, and even if bipolar depression was something different than “normal” terribleness amplified, the above statements would still be true.) It’s just been a rotten day. I know for a fact that my body/mind came standard with emotions that go to 11, but for the love of God, emotions do not always need diagnoses. Just because we’re not actually robots designed to feed the capitalist machine while maintaining that “we’re fine” in every passing conversation doesn’t mean we are sick.
In fact, I’m willing to say right now that emotions never need diagnoses, though they may certainly need healers. If we insist on doing this, the diagnoses should come with a huge note at the bottom, something along the lines of: You, as an individual entity, are just an idea with no grounding in Reality. Seeing this clearly will alleviate every problem you have, including your negative emotions. This may not be an easy task, so here’s a mood disorder diagnosis to have until you’re ready to let it go. If you never are, that’s okay. But we’re just putting it out there, because it’s revolutionary, and it is your final destination as a soul to realize this truth for yourself.
Of course I kid, even though I actually, really, honestly wish someone had taken the time to educate me on the true meanings of the ego and pure consciousness—ideally before I went “insane.” Nobody did, because they just didn’t know how, and also I wasn’t looking.
Hence this blog. Hence my life.
What I’m really getting at is that you can have your mind and ego blown to smithereens by God/Self/Being, and these wily things will manage to cobble themselves back together.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: The mental “knowing” of All Things Spiritual really gets us nowhere. I gotta be honest, it often feels dreadfully ineffective to have a blog on consciousness because the whole punchline, after everything I write, is this: “But you really gotta see it for yourself.” It’s like spending your life describing to people the beauty of your favorite place in the world. You could do that, sure, but for the people you love, you really want to just buy plane tickets so they can go there and know the magic of this location firsthand.
Except there’s no ticket you can buy to this thing. Also, very few people seem to want to go. Or they say they do but balk when you get too close to the airport, or think they’ve already been there so what’s the point, or otherwise come up with 10,000 explanations for why they’re just “not interested in Absolute Truth.” They just want to be better people, or just take down the “worse people.” That’s the problem, after all—it’s certainly not their own unconsciousness.
And I get that. Hell, I want to be a better person. But ultimately, it is not “a good person” that I strive to be—in fact, I do not want to be a person at all. I’m not sure that this statement on its own makes sense, so I’m going to explain: “A person,” as defined by the conditioned mind, is always unreliable. One minute a person is happy, the next sad, then angry, maybe compassionate—a person’s entire way of being can be altered drastically just by threatening a few key attachments and/or illusions. It is a volatile construct, the egoic personality (and all personalities are egoic.).
People are inherently contradictory. They claim they’re one thing and then act differently. They say they’ve forgiven, and yet they bring up “the forgiven incident” when angry. They consider themselves loving and nonjudgmental and go on to say something quite hateful. They believe they are “good” and yet they say mean things. They swear they’re going to give this-or-that thing up—only to pick up the habit again in a few days. The flimsiness of the conditioned mind (again, this is the definition of a “person”) is so obvious it’s maddening.
I don’t mean this to be an attack. Nor is it meant to be the oversimplified, negative “People just suck” maxim that almost everyone reaches when they go deeply into conversations about the state of the world. Such a sentiment often serves to absolve us of digging further, of looking at our layers of self-deceit and fear stories. It is not a cynical attitude; it is just the nature of “personhood.” All that thinking and feeling without the stable foundation of Truth revealing that everything is totally fine? Of course we’re freaking wobbly.
And I admit fully: I’m like this, too. I’ve done all those things a thousand times. My mind is a disintegrating carousel I keep trying to get on, somehow believing it’ll be super fun this time. Then the carousel turns into a nightmare à la that creepy ride in the original Willy Wonka movie and I wake up a bit more. Oh, yeah! I remember. That’s why I don’t trust it! My mind lets itself think I’ve won sometimes.
I resolve to abide in my Self, my Truth, my unwavering Knowing… and then of course, I fail. Again. It’s exhausting, this middle ground. I wish I had advice on it, but I just cried and ate a bunch of cheese, so I don’t think I’m the best person for that.
One of my favorite spiritual teachers, Mooji, says that on the path, we’re moving from “person” to “presence.”
So I’m not saying I don’t want to be human; I just don’t want to be a person. First of all, I suck at it; secondly, it brings a lot of suffering—in part because I suck at it, but also because I see clearly the futility of trying to be better at Playing Person™. Doing so would not bring me to the Truth, and that’s all there is; that’s all we’re here for anyway: To evolve in consciousness until we see who we are, irrefutably, undoubtedly, perfectly, and not personally.
So what good would it really do to become more comfortable in groups? What joy would I find if I felt like “small talk” was a breeze (to be fair, I don’t think anyone really enjoys small talk.)? How much happier would I be if I could act like a person better? The answer: Not very. It is Truth I long for and nothing else, knowing full well that it will cost me my dear illusory “person.”
But whatever. She kinda sucks anyway, so it’s really no loss at all.