Beliefs are all the same in their dynamics. At the same time, there are different types of beliefs.
We have peripheral and central beliefs, mild and strong beliefs, and also disputable and apparently indisputable beliefs.
And we can find these in just about any combination.
There are immense benefits of beliefs.
Stories themselves are obviously essential. They helps us orient and navigate in the world, and guide attention and action. Stories help us remember the past, envision the future, and make sense of the present.
We can of course use stories as guides, whether we see them as just guides or make them into beliefs.
So what is the function of beliefs? Why do we have beliefs when stories themselves are sufficient? What is the unique contribution of beliefs?
My energy level was drained yesterday due to a fuller-than-usual schedule. Normally, it restores during the late afternoon and the evening, as I relax, take a nap, and eat some good food, but not yesterday.
Thoughts can give me a sense of drained energy, or they can be energizing. And this seems to depend on their content, and more importantly, how I relate to them.
In general, when I take a story as true, it will drain my energy. And when I recognize it as just a thought, it will be neutral or even slightly energize.
Why is there an experience of drained energy? I imagine it comes from the image of an “I” or “me” struggling with the wider world, in different ways. Just taking that image as real and true will give an experience of energy drain, tiredness, and at times even exhaustion.
Spirituality can easily be an escape. In fact, it often is.
And yet, when I tell myself that is wrong, and take it as true, that too is an escape. There is nothing wrong with escapes. It is a stepping stone. An expression of human life. A safety valve when no other option is open to us. (Because other options are not familiar to us, or do not appear to us.) One of the ways the universe is exploring itself. A part of the terrain we humans can explore and become familiar with. An invitation for others to notice and inquire into their beliefs about escapes. And it can be an invitation for us to take a closer look at what is going on.
That said, here are some ways spirituality can be an escape:
Spirituality can mean many different things: Belief in religion. Participation in religious institutions. Genuine glimpses and opening experiences. Airy-fairy sentimentality. Hard-nosed testing and application of pointers from spiritual teachings. The world as it appears when reality notices itself.
In each of these, apart from perhaps the last, spirituality can be an escape. It can be made into a belief, and any belief is an escape. It is an escape from allowing experience as is. (Taking a story as true is a distraction.) And it is an escape from what is more honest for us.
This is something I noticed most in my teens and early twenties, and only occasionally nowadays - for example today.
When I am energetic and in a good mood, and try to hold onto it, it tends to swing into its reverse the day after.
And if I make use if it, but with less identification, it is fine. Usually, it just naturally fades and then returns when it is time.
The identification is of course with stories saying “I need to hold onto it”. And the backlash comes because it is not true. I am at odds with reality when I believe those type of stories, and life is kind enough to let me know in different ways. First, through stress as it happens. And for me, and possibly others, by swinging into the opposite.
As so much here, this is very simple and a repeat of previous posts. But it is something I keep noticing throughout the day, so why not write it down.
Fear comes up. There is resistance to that fear. Identification with that resistance fuels belief. And attention goes into the belief.
There is of course more to it.
The initial fear comes up because of friction between my beliefs of what should be and what is. Not wanting to experience that fear comes from beliefs about the fear. And it all serves to take attention away from the fear, and also the initial friction. It helps me avoid finding what is more honest for me than the initial belief. And I want to avoid that because of beliefs of what may happen if I do.
A rambling post…..
Blogs - including this one - can easily be seen as self-indulgent and self-absorbed, an expression of our individualistic and navel-gazing contemporary culture, and so on. All of that may be true. I often have the thought that this blog is way too self-absorbed.
And yet, if it also is universal - a mirror for what is going on here and for also for others - it may be interesting and even at times helpful.
It also seems that there are two ways of being self-absorbed.
It is one of the oldest tricks in the book: Create a problem, then sell the solution.
Or more often, create the appearance of a problem.
Christianity creates the problem of sin, and offer the solution of salvation.
Buddhism creates the problem of delusion, and offer the solution of awakening. (Of course, you can also say that the suffering is real, and awakening is one solution - but it is not by any means the only practical solution.)
The fashion and body industry creates an impossible ideal, and offers makeup, jewelry, clothes and dieting and exercise programs as the solution.
Some folks frown when the phrase dark night is used in secular contexts, for instance describing what many of us go through after losing a job or the end of a relationship. They say it should be used only in its original meaning, as describing the dark night of the senses or the dark night of the soul.
But is it so wrong to use it in a secular sense? Maybe the secular and spiritual dark nights are not as different as they may appear?
Any dark night, whether secular or spiritual, comes about through a friction between our shoulds and reality, or rather, friction between our stories of what is and what should be. It doesn’t really matter what the content of those stories are. The effect is the same: unease, stress, tension, complains, sense of being a victim, perhaps sadness, grief, anger, frustration, sense of loss, and so on.
Its a common dilemma: We imagine a boundary, elevate our side and devalue what is on the other side, and make it difficult for ourselves to recognize it as an imagined boundary.
It is easy to see among some Christian fundamentalists. In their own minds, they elevate humans as being made in God’s image, and devalue non-humans as a lesser category of beings. From within such a mindset, removing the boundary means that humans ends up in the same group as beasts, and it is not a very attractive proposition.
The solution is of course to elevate non-human species and gain a more realistic view of humans. We can recognize the immense beauty of the natural world. The intelligence, caring and fit to their environment of all species, come about through millions of years of evolution. Our shared ancestors and close kinship with all life. How we are all expressions of a seamless process of evolution of this planet. The ways our evolutionary past is played out in our daily life, and how a recognition of this can be a great help to us.
One of the few things I watch regularly from the world of TV is Mr. Monk.
And one of the recurrent themes is his desire to be reinstated as a police officer, and repeatedly failing.
It is a good reminder of something most of us do:
He wants to attain an image, fails and despair, and overlooks what he already has.
When I notice something - an emotion, story, sensation etc. - there is a softening or release of identification with it. I find myself as what notices, and less as what is noticed.
It is very simple, yet with a lot of complexity as well.
For instance, I may notice an emotion - allow it as it is, be with it. Yet, if that emotion is triggered by a story - as they often are - and I don’t notice that story, it means I am still identified with the story.
So whenever I notice an emotion, I can first allow that emotion as it is, with heart and kindness. And when look for the story behind it. Which story do I - somewhere - take as true, which triggers that emotion? Is that story true? What happens when I take it as true? Who am I without it? What is the validity in its reversals?
As soon as I believe a story, there is ambivalence.
I believe I need people to love me.
So I seek it out, I enjoy it when it is here.
But also, I am afraid I won’t have, I am afraid I will lose it, I get into strategies for getting it, I put on masks.
I believe I made a mistake.
So I experience regret, sadness.
But also, I feel I am taking care of myself by having that story.
So in each case, for whatever belief I look at, I find ambivalence. It seems it may be an inevitable effect of taking a story as true, of taking any story as true.
When I take a story as true, I automatically fear truth.
Among other things, I fear what is more true for me than the story. I fear taking the consequences of it.
If I am honest, I know that I don’t know for sure if any story is really true. And there is a fear of seeing that, and especially of living free from a belief.
I fear that without taking the story as true, something terrible would happen.
So I can ask myself what do I fear would happen if I didn’t have that belief? (One of the subquestions in The Work.)
How likely is that?
What is more likely?
I can also investigate the story more thoroughly, for instance by doing a full The Work inquiry on it and its assumptions.
Any story is a temporary guide.
It helps us guide attention and organize our life in a certain way. It is a support. A stepping stone to something else.
That is where it gets tricky, because if the story is taken as true, it is more difficult to move on when the time is ripe.
And that is where a story can become an apparent hindrance rather than a support.
It is quite common to hear people say they are sensitive to the energy of others. It may be especially noticeable - and sometimes uncomfortable - in close quarters with others over time, and if the others have relatively strong internal conflicts going on. I notice it mostly on the train or bus, and I know many others notice it - among other times - when giving bodywork.
There are lots of ways to work with this. Visualize a cocoon around oneself. Working on grounding. Visualize roots down the earth. Visualize clarity. Pray for the other and yourself. Visualize healing for both of you. And so on. All of these may work fine to some extent and for a while, but they won’t work completely or always because they are just alleviating the symptoms.
When I explore this for myself, I find that the discomfort I experience has one source, and that is my own beliefs about what is going on. Here too, I find that the discomfort I experience comes from friction between my stories of what should be and what is.
There are many ways of being fundamentalist. We can be religious fundamentalists, of course. We can be atheist fundamentalists, taking the no-God story as true and not acknowledging that it all depends on the images we have of God (if we see God and reality as interchangeable terms, then atheism makes less sense!), and that we really don’t know. And we can even be science fundamentalists, taking current models from science as the gospel truth, not recognizing that these too will be obsolete at some point in the future.
Also, we can be anti-fundamentalist fundamentalist which I am familiar with from myself. I sometimes notice a reaction to fundamentalism of different flavors, and that is of course another brand of fundamentalism. I am not receptive to the validity and gifts of fundamentalism, and not free to shift between a wider range of stories about fundamentalism and apply the one that seems most helpful in the situation.
Any time I take any story as true, even if it is as an underlying assumption such as stores about the world (life is….) and what I am (an object in the world, content of experience), I become a fundamentalist. I filter experience as if it is true. I act as if it is true. And I can’t help it, as long as I take those stories as true.
The most common form of fundamentalist isn’t of the religious type. It is the fundamentalism of taking ourselves as content of experience, as an object within content of experience - whether it is an image of a human self, or an image of a doer or observer or any other image.
Scientific American has an interesting article on depression’s evolutionary roots.
Depression brings attention to a particular topic while reducing distractions, allowing it to be examined and processed more thoroughly. And that investigation can help us function better in daily life.
The idea is of course not new, and it goes well beyond just depression.
When I explore for myself, I find that any hangups, any reactivity, is a glue for attention. It brings attention to the apparent topic of the hangup, and also to the hangup itself.
Whenever there is friction between shoulds and is/may be, there is a knot. A hangup. A tantrum, as Byron Katie calls it.
Here are two different forms of love of beliefs and reactivity.
First, a love of stories as true, and of reactivity as expression of this truth. This is love filtered through beliefs and a sense of a me, a doer and an observer. A love of this separate self and its circle of us, and a way to try to protect this me and us. It may be mistaken and temporary, but is still an expression of love.
Then, there is appreciation and love of beliefs and reactivity as part of the play, as lila.
It seems that as we mature or awaken to what we are, the second love surfaces quite naturally. There is a gentle love for the play as it is. And in this gentle love, there may be a natural softening and release out of taking stories as true.
I can take emotions as guides in two ways.
They can be used as a guide for external situations. A situation trigger unpleasant emotions, so I avoid it. Another trigger pleasant emotions, so I seek it out. Used in this way, emotions may be an OK guide in some situations, but certainly not in all.
The other way is to use emotions as guides for noticing beliefs. I notice a compulsive quality around certain emotions, as an impulse to push away or hold onto emotions and the situation triggering them. So I can first shift into allowing experience as is, with kindness, finding myself not as that which resists but as that which (already and always) allows the experience as it is. And I can take the compulsive quality around emotions as an invitation to notice the beliefs behind it, inquire into them, and find what is more honest for me than the initial beliefs.
Exploring it in this way, I may find that any story taken as true is a should. And when it clashes or aligns with my stories of what is or may be, it creates reactive emotions. These reactive emotions have a compulsive quality to them, a compulsion to push away or hold onto certain experiences or the situations triggering them. And there is a shift out of this when experience is allowed as it is, with kindness, and also - more thoroughly - when the beliefs are inquired into and I find what is more honest for me.
When I make choices from fear, and act on them, life is kind and gives feedback.
There is a staleness. Deadening. Loss of vitality.
Everything may look good on the surface, it seems right in a conventional sense, but it feels wrong deeper down.
A friend of mine from the Zen center is in prison and is given a death sentence. I and others of his friends read through the documents but don’t understand it all at first glance.
When I woke up following this dream, I took the opportunity to be with the experiences that came up, including a slight sense of dread. Allowing the experience gave a sense of softness around it and a sense of sweetness mixed in with the initial emotions. It then opened up and the experience shifted into a sense of a nurturing fullness, mixed in with some sadness and a sense of being sobered up.
After a few minutes, I explored how this is true for me. How am I already in a prison? In what way am I given a death sentence?
When I occasionally read Buddhist or integral blogs, one thing that sometimes comes up is Buddhist fundamentalism, a defense of the One True Dharma.
As so often, it is easy to see it in others. A story is taken as true, other viewpoints are made wrong, and there may be the usual signs of taking a story as true, especially if it is challenged: a closed view, closed heart, emotional reactivity, compulsion. (The content of the story can be anything, for instance making Asian cultural baggage in teachings wrong, having a bone to pick about the approaches or terminology of related traditions such as advaita, taking a model or map as true and ignoring that reality will always show up outside of any map, relate to the green value meme as an ugly bogeyman hiding under the bed.)
Life gives wonderful feedback.
One of the ways it gives clear feedback is when I am caught up in a belief.
And that feedback can come from myself or from others.
The feedback from myself is very familiar. When I am caught up in a belief, any belief, there is a sense of precariousness, unease, stress, tension, separation, compulsiveness, and so on.
The feedback from others is also very familiar. When I cam caught up in a belief, I act in ways that seems other than sane, mature, wise and kind in a conventional sense. Others notice, and if I am honest, I notice that they notice. They will also let me know if I am receptive and ask.
In both cases, I can look for being caught up in a belief, taking a story (a viewpoint, identity) as true. And I can find what is more true for me, through a sincere, heartfelt inquiry into that belief.
(more…)
There are many answers to the question what is it all about?
And here is one simple answer: it is about living in integrity.
What does it mean to live in integrity?
For me, it means to live according to relative and absolute truth. The ordinary truths on my ordinary human life, and also the truth of what I am and everything is.
What are some of the benefits of belief? Of taking a story as true? Of identifying with its viewpoint and the identity that comes from it?
One obvious benefit is that it helps channel attention and action, often with an element of compulsiveness.
We also get to explore what is inside of the story, the world and options available within that story.
We get to notice what happens when we take a story as true, the dynamics of taking a story as true.
We get to filter the world in a particular way, adding to the richness of experience.
We get to filter the world through a sense of an I with an other, and also the viewpoint of the story and its corresponding identity.
Of course, most of this can happen when we use a story as guide for attention and action, even if it is not taken as true. We can still use it to channel attention and action, we still get to explore the world through its viewpoint and identities. We still get to add to the richness of experience through it.
The difference is the drama and reality that comes when the story is taken as true. The story and what it creates - including a sense of a separate I - seems real and substantial, and we act as if it is. And that is the unique benefit of believing a story.
What otherwise may appear as a game (lila) is now taken as a real death-and-life drama. That is the real and juicy gift of beliefs.
I wanted to explore these islands of density a little further.
What are they made up of? I find sensations and an overlay of images. And these images include images of a location in space, an outline of the islands - roughly defining their shape and size, and labels and interpretations of these islands. And also images of a me with certain identities and viewpoints, relating to these images in certain ways depending on how they fit with these identities and viewpoints. Images of a doer acting in certain ways. And an image of an observer observer all of this.
My experience since the initial awakening is that “everything” is insubstantial and awareness itself. Whatever I see is God.
But this “everything” is only a rough everything. It leaves something out: smaller islands of density.
These function as anchors for a sense of I located in space, on sensations, and created through an overlay of images. There is a sense of a doer and observer located in and around the head area, located on sensations there (in my case and right now, created through a slight muscle tension in the upper neck and through the tongue slightly pressing against the back and upper part of my mouth), with an overlay of images of a doer and observer, images displacing some of those sensations so the sense of an observer is more around and outside of the head, and - crucially - images and stories telling me that is what I am.
“Well,” said Pooh, “what I like best,” and then he had to stop and think. Because although Eating Honey was a very good thing to do, there was a moment just before you began to eat it which was better than when you were, but he didn’t know what it was called.
~A.A. Milne
Even a simple Pooh quote is a question and invitation for investigation.
When anticipating eating honey, it is easy to see that the joy of sweet anticipation is all in the mind. If we like honey, that is.
| donation | donation | donation | donation | donation | donation | donation |
