The Authentic Life (9 page)

When we do this repeatedly, the sense of who we are, with all of our stories, loses its substantiality, its heaviness. There is a transformation out of the narrow subjective sphere into a more open experience of reality. When we bring awareness to our cherished self-images, such as our need to be special, they begin to lose their power over us. No longer puffing ourselves up or trying to stand out means we're coming closer to living like a
white bird in the snow. That is, we no longer feel the inner compulsion to see ourselves or be seen in a particular way—there is no ulterior agenda. The result is true humility—no one special to be.

To be no one special means we are psychologically free of the illusion of “I-as-a-Me”—no longer seeing ourselves as a unique self, independent of the world around us. Not holding on to any particular view or opinion, or the stories about our past and who we are, or the many self-images and identities we use to define our “Me”—what remains? The presence of just being. This gives us an experiential taste of our most authentic self, with the inner knowing that who we truly are—our basic connectedness—is more than just our self-images, our stories, our body.

We can then begin to relate to the clouds of “Myself” as just clouds. We don't have to try to stop the clouds any more than we have to try to stop our thoughts. They don't go away, but there's a vast difference between identifying with the clouds and identifying with the vast sky within which the clouds appear. Identifying with the presence of just being, rather than identifying with “I-as-a-Me,” is like identifying with the sky, and from that awareness the clouds are never as real or as substantial as they appear from the inside. As awareness opens up, the objective fact of our basic connectedness becomes more than just an intellectual understanding.

8

Who's Who in the Zoo?

A
student comes in for an interview with his Zen teacher and tells the teacher how angry he is at his boss. The teacher interrupts him and asks, “Who's angry?” The student replies, “What do you mean?” And again the teacher asks, “Who's angry?” The frustrated student says, “I don't know.” At which point the teacher rings his bell, signaling an end to the interview.

A week later the student returns, and the teacher sees that the student appears to be very relaxed. The teacher asks the student how the situation with his boss is going. The student smiles and says, “Oh, I'm not angry anymore.” The teacher immediately asks, “Who's not angry?” The student doesn't respond, so the teacher again asks, “Who's not angry?” The student replies, “I don't know what you're asking.” Whereupon the teacher again rings his bell.

The next week the student returns, and the teacher can see that the student appears to be visibly anxious. But the teacher is also impressed that the student had the courage to return, so he
smiles at the student and says, “Today we're going to talk about who's who in your little zoo.”

Who we think we are—that is, how we see ourselves—determines how we live our lives. If we don't know who we are, we will no doubt live our lives blindly. Conversely, knowing how to live most genuinely comes from uncovering the “who.” In other words, we have to clarify with precision our many “Me's”—who's who in our little zoo. Once we uncover our various identities and behavior patterns, we can begin to work with the fears that drive them; and as we free ourselves from our fears, we come closer to living from our most authentic self. This type of honest looking at ourselves and our patterns is not easy, and often we prefer to remain complacent or in the dark.

Most of us, most of the time, are content to blindly skate on the thin ice, taking our life for granted. We choose patterns or strategies of behavior to try to control our world—in part, to help us avoid the anxious quiver in our being. We all have strategies that we're familiar with, such as trying harder or seeking diversions. We use these to skate along, hoping to avoid having to feel the fears that we don't want to address—such as the fears of loss of control, of failure, of being unworthy, of being alone, and so on. Rarely do we question our strategies; usually we just follow them blindly. But in following them we limit ourselves and define our own boundaries, and our life narrows down into a sense of vague dissatisfaction.

We have to start from the premise that we don't really know ourselves very well. Knowing ourselves involves clarifying all the ways we're run by the self-centered mind. This means we have to uncover our most basic identities and beliefs, observe our typical strategies of behavior, and perhaps most important of all, become very familiar with our fears. The clarification of what makes a “Me” is not a philosophical or theoretical inquiry;
the work has to be very specific, very empirical. For example, we have to clarify our thinking by knowing, with precision, what our actual beliefs are. This does not necessarily involve looking at our past, or analyzing why we think the way we do. The process of coming to know ourselves more deeply is an objective process, where we simply notice the present content of the mind, so that we can learn to see our thoughts
as
thoughts, and not as The Truth. The same holds as we observe our strategies: instead of analyzing why we behave the way we do, we simply look at our patterns of behavior and learn to see them as the conditioned behaviors that they are. This allows us to break our intense identification with our various “Me's.”

One aspect of seeing who's who in our zoo is to look at our own complex of behavior patterns and see if we can discern a unifying thread. A good way to uncover this thread is to ask ourselves, “What is the most significant thing about me?” This is not an easy question to answer, since we are usually blind to our own primary feature. Further, this most significant or unifying thread always has both a positive and a negative side. For example, one person might describe their primary feature as “I try hard.” This statement certainly captures the positive side, which is the natural desire to be productive, but at the same time it masks the fear of failure that may underlie it.

When we ask ourselves, “What is the most significant thing about me?” we may see more than one major basic behavioral strategy. This is not unusual; however, there are rarely more than two predominant patterns. The tricky part is to look for your own primary feature without getting caught in analysis or excessive thinking about yourself. The actual practice is to ask the question at various points throughout the day: “Who do I think I am right now?” If the answer is not readily apparent, we don't dwell on it; we simply return to objectively observing
ourselves again and again until the answer becomes clear. Until we uncover our most deeply seated beliefs and patterns, they will continue to unconsciously dictate how we live.

The descriptions that follow are of our major belief-based strategies. As you read about them, see if you can recognize which ones best describe your primary feature. The descriptions will also include the fear or motivation that may, in part, underlie each strategy. These descriptions will be brief and are not an in-depth exploration. Still, they can serve as a basic guideline for looking inward.

Trying to make the world a better place, trying to make things right.
The most significant self-concept is, “I live from conscience.” The positive side is obviously the belief that things can be made better. The negative side is that this impulse can become very self-righteous and moralistic. The underlying motivation may be the wish to avoid the fear that things will never be right, particularly that “I” will never be right. This is the basic strategy of perfectionism.

Giving or nurturing, with the primary self-concept best described as “I'm a helper.”
The positive side comes from the natural generosity to give of oneself; the negative side is giving in the hope of being needed and appreciated. The motivation is to avoid the fear of being unloved. This is the basic strategy of the helper.

Achievement, getting ahead.
“I try hard” is the most significant feature, and the positive side is that this behavior can bring success and productivity. The negative side is the need to be well regarded—geared to overriding the nagging sense of inadequacy, unworthiness, and failure. This is the strategy of trying to be on top of things, or at least appearing to be on top.

Trying to understand our feelings and to search for what is missing.
The most significant belief about oneself is “I'm unique.” On the
positive side there is the ability to feel things deeply, and perhaps to express oneself creatively and artistically. The negative side is the tendency to dramatize suffering and to elevate oneself in one's uniqueness. The motivation is a craving for acknowledgment, to cover over the sense of being hopelessly flawed. This is the basic strategy of the romantic—trying to feel special.

Observing and understanding the world, with the goal of maintaining order and self-sufficiency.
The primary self-concept is, “I'm the one who knows.” The positive side is the ability to see reality objectively and clearly. The negative side is the tendency to hold oneself back and shut life out or withdraw, partly to ward off the fear of danger and chaos. This is the strategy of the observer.

Conformity and compliance—seeking the comfort of fitting in or following authority.
The chief feature or self-concept is “I'm reliable,” and it often involves the positive traits of being dutiful and responsible. This strategy is motivated by the need to avoid the fears of insecurity and groundlessness; and sometimes the strategy flips from the “fitting in” of conformity to the negative traits of doubting and yes-butting. However, the basic motivation of each is the need for security.

Keeping busy, and seeking adventure, diversion, or pleasure.
The most significant belief about oneself is “I keep things lively, interesting, and enjoyable.” The positive side is an optimistic and energetic ability to contribute; the negative side an endless seeking after busyness and entertainments, to avoid discomfort and to fill in the holes of longing and loneliness. This is the basic strategy of the adventurer.

Appearing strong and self-reliant, with the primary self-concept being “I'm in charge.”
The positive side is an ability to be direct, decisive, and protective of others. The negative side is a tendency to be domineering and combative. The basic motivation
is to avoid the inner terror of feeling or appearing weak. This is the strategy of the asserter.

Being laid back and detached, with the most significant self-concept being “I keep the peace.”
The positive side is the ability to keep things mellow, while the negative side is a tendency to avoid engagement and commitment, often out of the fear of confrontation and rejection. This is the strategy of the peacemaker.

Hopefully you can see your own patterns in these admittedly brief descriptions. Once we recognize our own strategies, we need to ask ourselves, “Are any of these strategies really successful?” In general, the answer is yes, in that they can help us negotiate our way through our complex world; as well, they can temporarily keep our fears at bay. Yet when they fail, we can see how close we really are to the ever-present danger of falling through the thin ice.

The important thing is seeing whether we understand how to work with these strategies. The first thing that's required is that we be able to recognize our disappointments for what they are—the emotional reactions that we feel when our strategies don't really work in getting us the comfort that we want. And then, very specifically, we need to be able to see our disappointments as our path—in other words, we use our discomforts as our wake-up. Wake up to what? First, waking up to what's actually happening—seeing where we're blindly caught in our conditioned patterns. For example, we can ask ourselves where are we just trying to look good, or to seek approval, or to fulfill our attachments or cravings—for food or pleasure or comfort in any form? Where are we trying to avoid feeling anxiety or insecurity through trying to control and manipulate our world? This may require acknowledging the sense of entitlement that underlies our strategies—for example, the entitlement that we
should
we appreciated, that we shouldn't have to be uncomfortable, or
that life shouldn't be so difficult. Wherever we are stuck in belief-based patterns, the practice is always to see that stuck place as our path. For example, if our strategy is that of the helper, what happens when we don't get appreciated for offering our help? We usually become angry or feel hurt. But if we remember to see our reaction as our path, it's as if a mirror is being held up to us, saying, “Here, look at your anger: it is showing you exactly where you are stuck in believing you need appreciation to prove your worth.”

Once we recognize our disappointment over the fact that our patterns are not working the way we'd like, the practice is to refrain from replaying the strategies. Even though the strategies don't really work, our human tendency is to keep doing them over and over, like a rat in a maze. So refraining from the replay is a big step.

The next step, perhaps even more difficult than refraining, is to open to feeling the fear that drives the strategy in the first place. This definitely takes patience and perseverance, because another of our human tendencies is to turn away from our fears. Yet practice asks us to turn toward them—which simply means being open to actually feeling them, and to residing in the discomfort as best we are able in order to become free.

Please remember: When we feel discomfort or anxiety, we almost always think that something is wrong. The immediate tendency is to pursue our conditioned strategies—trying harder, hiding, or seeking escape—hoping that we can get away from the discomfort or anxiety. But the mere fact that we feel anxious doesn't necessarily mean that something is wrong. The only thing it means is that we're feeling anxious. In other words, we're simply having a conditioned response.