The Chosen One is a common theme in mythology and entertainment.
Why is this such an attractive image? Is it only because we secretly want someone to fix our problems for us?
What do I find when I take it as a reflection of what is right here?
In what ways am I the chosen one?
Towards the end of his life, Norwegian philosopher Arne Næss had a toy piglet. It is perhaps a little odd for a grown and respected man to have a stuffed toy.
What is even more odd is that he and his wife treated it as a child, and wrote a book about him.
It is easy to dismiss it as the folly of an old man. But is that all?
Playfulness was always central in his life, and his playfulness in relating to his piglet is a teaching in itself. It is an invitation for us all to find more playfulness in life, including in how we use our imagination.
And there is also wisdom here.
When we interact with others, we usually assume we interact based on who they are. But we are really interacting with them based on who we imagine they are. When Arne Næss treated his piglet as a living being, it becomes clear that he is really interacting with his imagined piglet. This is an invitation for us to take a closer look at this in our own life.
A quick look at the entertainment world – books, movies, songs, fairy tales, mythology – tells us that we are fascinated with the unpleasant.
Why is that? I can find several reasons for why I am drawn to it….
The most obvious is that these things (death, pain, cruelty etc.) are part of human life, and this is a way for me to get familiar with it in a safe way. I get to explore it without putting myself at risk. And I get to prepare for it should it happen to me or someone close to me. If or when something like it happens in real life, I am already somewhat familiar with it.
After you die, you will be asked two question: How much have you loved? How much did you open up to receive love?
Someone told me that story, perhaps a little differently. It is a beautiful story aimed at motivating us and inviting us to see how we are living our lives here now.
Told in this way, as something that may happen in the future, it has a certain poignancy. But it is also a “trick” teaching, and it can backfire.
Other people know something fundamental about life that I don’t.
That seems to be a common thought or feeling, and one I recognize from my own life as well.
It is easy to understand why we have that assumption. We are more familiar with the facade of others than what is going on internally. And that facade is often one of being in control and knowing what is going on.
The sense that others know something fundamental about life is also a projection. Others are a mirror for myself, so it is a good guess that I know something fundamental about life, but I don’t quite notice or “own” it.
Whenever a “should” comes up in my mind, the advice is for me.
If I take it as for others and try to apply it to others, there is inevitably stress and frustration.
And if I take it for myself, and apply it in my own life, there is a sense of relief, a secure guidance, and a sense of coming home.
A sentence from any source can be used as a koan, a question for own exploration.
It is most interesting when the statement appears mundane or counter intuitive, and even if it is a familiar reminder, it can be an invitation to look in a fresh way and perhaps a little further.
This is it.
This is all there is. All my images of the world and myself is my own world of images.
All I see “out there” – in present, past, and future, is here now. All goals, dreams, qualities, dynamics, whatever it is, is here now.
It is an image here now. The feelings and atmosphere it evokes are here now. The qualities and dynamics I see out there is here now.
Even the images of present, past, and future themselves happen in my own world of images.
I can notice and get familiar with this in the usual ways. I can inquire into my beliefs. I can explore my sense fields. I can recognize my images as images as they happen. I can notice my emotions as here now, and not belonging to anything out there in the past, future, or present. I can recognize my goals as stories here now. I can find the qualities and dynamics I see in others here now, in myself, including in how I relate to that person. I can ask myself if what I seek is not already here.
In this way, I get double benefit from my world of images. I can use my images, goals, and so on as guides for choices and actions in the world. And I can recognize it all already happening here now.
There are many gifts in projections.
The most obvious is that projections allows us to orient and navigate in the world. Our world of images create a sense of space and time, places whatever happens in the sense fields in space. connects images of past, present, and future events, places boundaries to create the appearance of objects, filters, interprets, and makes sense of it all. This can most easily be noticed through simple sense field explorations. Without our world of images, we wouldn’t function.
This world of images also creates an infinitely rich world. We can place boundaries anywhere. Find connections anywhere. Look at any (imagined) object from any number of perspectives. Create any number of contexts which dramatically changes how we see something. We quite literally create our own worlds through the images we place on top of the sense fields.
Spirituality can refer to many different things.
When I look at the type of spirituality I am most familiar with, I find three facets. And one, two, or three of them can be present at once, it seems, and in any combination.
First, there is fascination. We can be fascinate by many things, including the idea of what we may get out of spirituality (awakening, healing, peace, good rebirth), our own path and experiences (insights, dreams, glimpses), the stories in the tradition (cosmology, teaching stories), the teacher (personality, what they represent), more peripheral aspects such as reincarnation, supernatural powers, and auras, or even more peripheral things such as astrology, foreseeing the future, reincarnation, and also anything unexplained and weird such as UFOs, crop circles, ghosts and so on.
Fascination can be very helpful. It can make us feel good, hopeful, and inspired. It can help us stay with a path. It can be a needed temporary escape from problems. And it brings up projections, inviting us to find here what we see over there.
The Mohammad caricature saga continues, and it is all quite predictable. Extremists on one side go out of their way to insult traditional Muslims. Extremists on the other side allow themselves to be insulted and try to retaliate by burning flags (pretty hopeless) or violence. And the media, always looking for a good story, focuses on the extremes and not the large middle ground dismayed by the whole spectacle.
Deliberately offending or hurting someone seems a poor strategy, and in this case, it only serves to inflame an already too hot and dangerous situation. Can we expect others to gain respect for “freedom of speech” when what they see is the most misguided and infantile examples of its use? Much better then to say what we have to say, with clarity and respect, defend freedom of speech through laws and regulations, and demonstrate responsible use of free speech.
It may also be good to notice that we have taboos as well, and there are places where we are hurt in a similar way, the boundaries are just located differently. When a discourse treads close to our own taboos, we expect respect and sensitivity, so we may as well treat others with that same respect.
The recent Tiger Woods story is a reminder of a simple pointer:
Would I do what I am doing if everyone knew about it? What would I do differently if everyone would know it?
In our digital and highly connected age, it is very possible that everyone will know, and that gives an added reality to the question.
Here is another take on those questions: When I am alone, do I behave as I would if others were here? How would it be to act as if others were here? When I am with others, do I feel and act as free as I do when I am alone? How would it be to feel and act with the freedom that is here when I am alone?
As we move beyond childhood and teenage years, it is common to recognize in ourselves what we see in our parents, and especially what bugged us about them. And this can also be a good exploration in a more structured way.
What is it my parents do/did that bugs me? In what ways do I find myself doing the same? What are some specific examples? How does it feel to let that sink in? Is there more compassion? More understanding? More of a sense of us being in the same boat? An impulse to take more responsibility for how I act?
What is it my parents did or do that I admire? What are some specific examples? How am I doing the same or something similar? How does it feel to take that in?
Neatorama asks why are people so interested in this Tiger Woods thing?
There are probably many different answers.
Here are some that come up for me, from my own experience in getting interested in certain stories in the news:
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.
I am curious about the fascination conspiracy theories have for some folks, including the current anti-vaccine camp.
For instance, how does the world look from within such a view?
When I explore it for myself, I find a fearful world.
There are many reasons why I wouldn’t be a good teacher, at least not of the traditional type. Apart from not being qualified in any way, not being trained, and not enjoying projections coming my way, I often feel that traditional spiritual teachers play a cruel game with their students.
There is a reason for that cruel game, of course, and it is a quite innocent one. When there is an awakening, it is natural for many to want to share it. And when there is an absence of awakening here, combined with neediness at a human level, it is natural to seek something that will fill that hole, and spirituality can be one of those things.
The Norwegian princess recently published a book about angels and how to contact them, and someone I know just sent me an email with a story about how I had helped her in a past life.
As usual, these things are an invitation to explore, in this case explore ways of relating to these topics, and some possible effects of each of these ways of relating.
I can dismiss it, which can be fine, but I also miss out of insights.
Nature is Satan’s church
- from Antichrist by Lars Von Trier
I listened to an interview with Lars Von Trier where he talks about fear of nature and nature as evil.
It is an interesting topic, and one that is rooted in the cultural distrust of nature in Europe and other places, and also in our evolution.
What I see is what I am.
That is true in three ways:
What I see in the wider world – in others, culture, nature, fictional and real life stories, science, dreams – is a mirror of what is here now. It is a mirror of the characteristics and dynamics here now.
My world – the world I relate to and live within – is my own world of images. It is my own overlay of boundaries and interpretations on pure perception.
And it all happens within and as what I am and everything is.
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.
This book looks interesting:
Caveman Logic: The Persistence of Primitive Thinking in a Modern World.
(Via Integral Options Cafe.)
The press release makes some good points, and it is an interesting exploration. Why do we sometimes resist a more rational view? And what can be done about it when we notice it in ourselves, or encounter it in others?
It is also interesting to note that the author appears to mix in his own beliefs which muddles the logic slightly.
Davis laments a modern world in which more people believe in ESP, ghosts, and angels than in evolution. Superstition and religion get particularly critical treatment, although he argues that religion, itself, is not the problem but “an inevitable by-product of how our minds misperform.
It is not quite ESP, ghost and angels versus science and evolution. It is about how we relate, not what we relate to.
It is perfectly possible to be curious about ESP, ghost, UFOs and other mysterious phenomena, and take a pragmatic and scientific approach to it. We can study it through science and be quite receptive and open to whatever we may find.
And it is also perfectly possible to have a blind and irrational belief in atheism or particular scientific models, pretending those views and models are true when we know that atheism is just another unproven philosophy and any scientific model will be outdated and obsolete at some point in the future. (And that goes for our most basic worldview as well, and our most basic assumptions about life and existence.)
When we mix in our own beliefs as Davis does, it is also easy to be caught up in shadow projections. To get caught up in the “I am right, you are wrong” dynamics and all that comes with it.
And as always, this is a mirror for myself. I see Davis being caught up in his own beliefs, so how am I doing the same? How am I doing the same in relation to him right now? Can I find other specific examples from my own life?
In this case, it is perfectly possible – even likely – that I am horribly unfair and assign views to the author that he does not hold. I haven’t even read his book. I am just using it to make a point.
A great example of cosmology as a reflection of what is here now.
It may well be a good model of what happened in a conventional sense, but it is also a good model of how our experience of the world is created here now.
Some people and situations are especially good projection objects. They express qualities we are not in touch with in ourselves, characteristics outside of our conscious identity. So when we see it in others, it fascinates us. We may even be caught up in blind attractions and aversions to just those qualities, expressed in these people and situations.
Michael Jackson is a good example. His genius for music, dance, image and marketing gave him attention, and in itself made him a good project. Add eccentricity and scandals that never were resolved, and you have an irresistible and explosive mix.
Any advice is for myself. Any advice that comes up for me is primarily for myself, even if it initially appears to be for someone else.
When I take this as a question and a pointer, I find that it is a starting point for fertile exploration. What do I find when I investigate it through my own experience?
When advice comes up in my thoughts, what happens if I take it to be primarily for someone or something (life, God, a situation) else? How do I treat the other? How do I treat myself? Where do I experience it in my body? What do I fear would happen if I didn’t hold onto that advice as for someone else?
What happens if I take the advice as primarily for myself? Can I find the grain of truth in it? How is it a helpful advice for me in this situation? In what other specific situations can it be helpful advice for myself? How would it be to live from it?
Two simple and helpful questions:
When I am with others, am I free to act as if I was alone?
When I am alone, do I act with the integrity I aim for when I am with others?
This exploration is a help in finding more authenticity, to not blindly act from roles and from trying to impress myself and others, to not feel I have to present a certain image. It helps me find beliefs and inquire into them. And it helps me shift in real time, in the situation, through the question and where attention goes because of the question.
I watched Letters From Iwo Jima earlier tonight. As one of two movies about the same battle, this one from the Japanese perspective, it is a great example of post-modernist approaches going mainstream. Why show just one perspective, when there are – at least – two major ones, and then several perspectives within each of those?
Whoever believes that the All itself is deficient is (himself) completely deficient.
Gospel of Thomas, verse 67.
This can be seen as referring to projections.
What I see in the world says more about me than the world. In a conventional sense, it says a lot about me and little about the world. In a real sense, it says all about me and nothing about the world.
Something I keep noticing….
When I feel a need to defend against a story, it is because it doesn’t fit with stories – and their corresponding viewpoints and identities – that I take as true. It creates a sense of having to protect and defend certain viewpoints and identities. A sense of separation. Tension. Stress. Reactive emotions. Precariousness. Making some stories true and other false. Making others wrong and myself right.
When I instead find the truth in the story and allow it to sink in, there is a shift. I find specific examples of how it is true. I take time to feel it. I find appreciation for it. And there is a shift into a sense of fullness. Coming home. Receptivity. Curiosity. Connection. Deep relaxation. No need to defend stories. A sense of shared humanity, of all of us in the same boat.
Some things about forgiveness…
Forgiveness comes from seeing that we all are in the same boat, recognizing myself in others. An open heart, kindness, clarity.
Forgiveness comes from investigating stories and finding what is more true for me than an initial belief.
Forgiveness comes from recognizing that all is already forgiven, all is innocence. When we take a story as true, we have to act as if it is true. All has infinite causes, the local expressions of movements of the whole.
Some things about consistency and inconsistency…
I can, of course, aim at consistency in the ordinary sense, between values, words and actions. And also integrity in acting on what is more true for me than beliefs, and notice and inquire into beliefs and fears preventing me from acting on it.
But there are gifts in inconsistency as well.
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