The eighth essay in The Ultimate Journey  is an attempt to give a feeling sense and a few images about: The Ultimate Destination:

Those who have stepped beyond the threshold into the mystery, outside of time, do not become disembodied spirits. They still have a physical body until that physical body dies. It is simply that their identity has shifted—it is no longer with the ego self or the unconscious urges and desires that drive most of us in our normal lives. Importantly, though, most of those who cross the threshold eventually find themselves back in the world of time—with the ego reasserting itself and again influencing actions and decisions.

Occasionally, though, a person is advanced enough to reenter the world of human interactions while maintaining awakened consciousness. What is more, these fully realized saints and sages can engage with those living in the world of time. When this happens, the awakened ones usually spend their energy sharing their wisdom, serving those in need, and/or promoting the health and well-being of the whole. Some of these wisdom figures have come to be important in their own cultures, and a handful have become iconic symbols the world over. Continue reading “8 – The Ultimate Destination” →

The seventh essay in The Ultimate Journey concerns the ways we try to understand and talk about Ultimate things, the difficulties of doing so with words and concepts, and suggested ways to move forward.

Naming the Mystery

We do not know how this universe in which we experience consciousness came to be. Yet everything we surmise suggests it has been governed by laws from the beginning. There are at least 26 constants of nature upon which the existence of a universe necessary for human life depends. And since the beginning of human culture, the great wisdom figures have told us there are values and moral guidelines that are necessary as well. Every culture has lived by values and some kind of morality, and all wisdom figures have said that their source is God, the Tao, Buddha-nature, the Way, Allah, Brahma, Great Spirit, Ein Sof, and so on.

All these names are words we humans have created to point to the source of existence, as well as the source of the meanings and values that are important for human life. But each of these words is a human concept, and not one is the thing itself. All these words are meager attempts to make intelligible to our thinking minds something that is just there. This “Isness” simply appears to our consciousness as soon as we become aware that we exist.

The wisdom traditions describe this Source differently, but all assert that there is a larger Reality, “Something Greater” than our everyday perspective. For Plato and Socrates, it was the World of Pure Forms or Ideas: “There abides the very being with which true knowledge is concerned; the colorless, formless, intangible essence … knowledge absolute in existence absolute.” This World of Pure Forms provides guidance for human life—for those who learn to access it. Continue reading “7 – Moving Toward the Ultimate “ →

The sixth essay in The Ultimate Journey concerns the 4 highest levels of who we are.

Last week I explored the first 6 levels of our inner landscape, and hopefully made clear that these levels exist in every one of us, barring a severe dysfunction. The incredible diversity between people is explained by the fact that all these forces, currents, and levels mix together in endless ways. This is true whether a person is aware of them or not. If they are not within a person’s consciousness, they are in the unconscious, affecting that person’s life in multiple ways.

I also tried to convey that understanding the human psyche is incredibly complex, partly because all the parts of ourselves do not have clear boundaries between them; they do not fit into neat boxes. It is like trying to sort out the mix of sounds one hears on a busy street, or putting specific images and thoughts on the figures in a dream. In an attempt at understanding, we use names to designate the various parts of ourselves, but they are only rough pointers toward a world that is fluid, dynamic, constantly shifting and changing.

Increasing the difficulty of understanding, these various parts of ourselves do not function separately, but are constantly overlapping and influencing each other. The value of putting names on this inner landscape is to have a rough, though very imprecise, way of moving toward greater consciousness and awareness. The more we can do this, the more we will be able to bring all the currents together into a coherent life, one that is moving toward the possibilities we have consciously chosen—rather than being carried this way and that by forces about which we are not conscious. Accomplishing this was exactly what Socrates was urging us to do when he admonished each person to: “Know Thyself.”

An image I like is of the leader of a great choir working with the members, who at first are not singing in rhythm or harmony with each other, gradually bringing the many voices together into a beautiful song. In the same way, each of us has many different voices within, and the work of a lifetime is to find a way to bring all the parts of ourselves into harmony, working together toward a fulfilling life. We each have this capacity, no matter how we feel about ourselves right now.

The first 6 levels discussed last week are the voices that have been the focus of much of modern psychology, beginning with Freud, followed by Jung, Adler, and behaviorism, and then various branches of cognitive, humanistic, and self psychology. To understand the next 4 levels of who we are, however, it is necessary to turn to the wisdom traditions of the world. This turn starts with an understanding of the full self.

7. The Full Self: If the ego includes everything I am conscious of about myself, what shall we call the complete individual me, the “me” that includes the parts of which I am not yet conscious. For most of us, there is a lot within ourselves of which we are not conscious. Freud said that the unconscious is a territory much more vast than the small citadel encompassed by the conscious mind. Jung added that there is both a personal unconscious and a collective unconscious. The personal unconscious includes a person’s own individual repressed fears, buried anxieties, unacknowledged longings, unspoken hopes and dreams, unknown talents and abilities, and the disowned shadow.

My term for the ego plus the personal unconscious is the “full self.” Every culture has developed techniques for bringing unconscious elements into consciousness, and this has been the main thrust of many schools of western psychology for the last one hundred years.

In essence, your “full self” includes everything of which you are now conscious, along with all the unconscious personal desires, fears, images, values, beliefs, and thoughts. Psychological growth, in this model, involves developing a healthy ego and then incorporating more and more of your unconscious material into conscious awareness. As you do this, your healthy ego self will gradually move toward becoming one with your full self.

Some schools of western psychology stop here, but Carl Jung, in conjunction with much ancient wisdom, said the full self includes a connection to the “collective unconscious,” the name he used for currents of deeper knowing that are shared with others. Jung did not suggest he understood what this was very well, and no one to this day does either, but many people have experienced a shared deeper knowing that cannot be explained by any means we now understand.

One aspect of the collective unconscious Jung called the archetypes. An example of archetypes at work in animals is the way many have the ability to perform complicated tasks without being taught, or even seeing an example of an action. (Birds that have never had contact with their parents fly thousands of miles to the hereditary mating location of their species; other birds build complicated nests like those of the species without seeing an example, and many animals know how to raise their young by ancient species-wide methods even though they never experienced or saw it demonstrated themselves.) In just this way, Jung believed that each human can access an archetypal image of how to be a Nurturer, Mother, Boss, Warrior, King, Queen, Enlightened One, Lover, Submissive Subject, Dominant Partner, Caregiver, Artist, Tyrant, Healer, Peacemaker, Counselor, Spoiled Child, and on and on. Some Jungians have tried to explain the archetypes as being contained within the individual psyche. If this is the case, then the archetypes would be included in the full self that is contained within each person.

But there is another way to understand them: They can be seen as pure models for ways of being, similar to Plato’s Pure Forms, that exist in a shared field of awareness outside of, or transcendent to the individual. The existence of a shared field of awareness would explain many things that are today mysteries to us, such as the way flocks of migrating birds can act and move as one unit, as if they share one consciousness. This would also explain why people sometimes feel a crisis is happening to a loved one, even though there is no normal means of communication between them.

Other examples include the ability of people to move into synchronization without words, as often happens with soldiers on a mission, a sports team getting into sync, or jazz musicians playing together—the group coming into harmony while playing a song being composed as they play, each aware of the tone and timing of everyone else in the group without any recognizable means of communication we know. This ability includes dancers moving into rhythm with each other in a way that defies physical explanation, a couple sensing the thoughts and feelings of each other, and the incredible link that can sometimes exist between a parent and a child.

However archetypes arise, their presence is valuable. But they further complicate living a human life, for the many archetypes compete for our time and attention, and if they are not recognized and managed, one or more will take over one’s life. (Think of some of the world’s worst tyrants.) Thus, one important goal for each of us is to learn to use the energy of each archetype when it is needed and useful, but not to let ourselves be taken over and dominated by any of them—for therein lies madness.

To become conscious of our id energies and shadow elements, to manage the complexes and personas, and then use the archetypes in a contained and healthy way requires a strong, conscious ego. Many of these currents within are constantly pushing for attention and control, so the work of a healthy ego is to become increasingly conscious of all the voices, gradually expanding conscious awareness to include each and all—an ideal that is never completely reached by most of us. But it is a worthy aspiration.

     Where is the collective unconscious? As noted earlier, some argue that it is contained entirely within each individual, and some of Jung’s early writings can be interpreted in this way. There are countless problems with this interpretation, however, and Jung’s later writings strongly suggest a view more in line with that of Plato and many other wisdom figures. This broader view is that there is a shared field of awareness that exists beyond each individual. And this is the jumping off point for an exploration of the higher levels of the self, the ones that go beyond the theory that everything is contained in each person’s “skin-encapsulated” ego self.

8. The Witness: Several modern theories limit our identity to the ego and personal unconscious. For my part, I believe we include more, that there are several higher levels of identity into which we can move. The first of those levels emerges any time you are able to step back and observe yourself—are able to look at your life, your ego, and at other people without judgments, opinions, or defending a position. Haven’t you experienced this at times? It is the heart of mindfulness training. The one who is observing is not the ego self, but the witness; others call it the observer. It is the part of you that can rise beyond the ego, and even beyond all the unconscious material contained in the full self. This is to step into the level of yourself that can see the whole picture, including the ability to observe your own ego self.

Think of a time you were in a park, or on a trip, and did not know anyone. Perhaps you stopped and saw a family on a picnic, or an argument between two people you did not know, or a small crowd gathered around those playing checkers in a town square. You observe, appreciate the life unfolding before you, but do not feel caught up in any of the scenes in a personal way. You are simply an observer, a witness to all that is happening. Your ego self is not engaged in any of it, and no emotions are triggered in you.

For most of us, most of the time, every experience, everything we see or hear will trigger something in us, even if only vaguely. Most experiences bring back memories or excite hopes and dreams. But occasionally we have a moment when are just present with the scene in front of us and not caught by it in any way.

When this happens to me, I usually feel a tender warmth toward life, toward other people, or perhaps an animal I am observing. This experience is what I imagine brings the slight smile to the face of the Buddha as depicted in many statues of him. It is an expression of tenderness or compassion for those struggling with the issues of life, but detached from unease with praise or blame concerning oneself. It conveys an acceptance of life as it is, the good and the bad, the light and the dark. This captures the mood of the state the Buddha considered “deathless,” which is outside or beyond the individual body/mind we usually think of as who we are.

Related to this state, the remarkable thing I have discovered for myself is that I can practice moving toward this perspective at any moment. It is possible to learn to step into the place of the witness, become the observer of my own life, free from the fears, anxieties, ambitions, cravings, desires, and emotions that usually drive and govern who I am. And, any time I can step into this place, either by choice—or when it happens of its own accord—I have discovered the witness once again. Doing this can be very healing, and lead to much inner peace.

This witness or observing self has been recognized by all the wisdom traditions. In the Upanishadsof Hinduism, we find this passage:

Two birds, one of them mortal, the other immortal, live in the same tree.
The first pecks at the fruit, sweet or bitter;
the second looks on without eating.
Thus the personal self pecks at the fruit of this world,
bewildered by suffering, always hungry for more.

Thus, over two thousand years ago, whoever wrote this text recognized that there is a part of us that engages with the world, is caught up and absorbed in it, but that there is a second consciousness that can observe what is happening without being engaged.

The great German writer Goethe put it this way two hundred years ago:

Alas, two souls are living in my breast,
And one wants to separate itself from the other.
One holds fast to the world with earthy passion
And clings with twining tendrils:
The other lifts itself with forceful craving
To the very roof of heaven.

Many meditative practices are designed to bring forth the observer or witness. Learning to sit as the observer, we begin to notice that the mind has one thought after another and that this stream of multiple thoughts is often disorganized and confusing. But if we become proficient at observing this passing parade, we become less and less attached to its details. Our identity begins to shift from the one caught up in the action to the one who can observe everything without attachment. When this happens, we watch the parade as it passes by, with no scene compelling us to identify with it. This ability provides enormous freedom, as well as an incredibly broad perspective. As Henry David Thoreau captured this experience:

“By a conscious effort of the mind we can stand aloof from actions and their consequences; and all things, good or bad, go by us like a torrent. We are not wholly involved in Nature. I may be either the driftwood in the stream, or Indra in the sky looking down on it. I may be greatly affected by a theatrical exhibition; on the other hand, I may not be affected by an actual event which appears to concern me much more.”

Gradually, the more proficient we become at stepping into our observing self, the more the other parts of ourselves that had been unconscious are revealed. As we identify more and more with the bird that can watch without being caught up in the action, the parts of ourselves that had been unconscious drift into the view of the conscious observer. And, as these unconscious aspects appear to consciousness, we can see them more clearly for what they often are—fears, anxieties, desires, fantasies, enculturated beliefs, and embedded societal rules. Crucially, as this happens, we become less subject to their power. As we continue to shift our identity to the observer, we begin to let go of judging, which brings an exhilarating sense of freedom, as well as recognition that who we really are is more vast than anything we had glimpsed before.

The spiritual literature of the world is filled with reports of such experiences, and transpersonal psychology is increasingly exploring their importance for health and well-being. Arthur Deikman, a clinical professor of psychiatry at the University of California in San Francisco, writes of the importance of the observing self for psychological growth and development. The observing self, as he defines it, is fundamentally different from any other conception of ourselves because it cannot be turned into an object. It can observe, but it cannot be observed. This means that it is “featureless” and “cannot be affected by the world any more than a mirror can be affected by the images it reflects.” He continues: “In the midst of the finite world” is an “I” that is quite “different from the world.”

“All else can be objectified, has limits and boundaries that can be described. All else is a segment of a world of fixed or relative dimensions. The observing self, however, is not like anything else we know.

The way I have come to understand this is that when I look out at the world, my mind organizes what is out there into images, creating an orderly pattern that makes sense to me from my point of view. Since the work of Immanuel Kant (in some ways the person most responsible for the pivot to modern philosophical thought), philosophy and science have begun to understand that the mind receives input through the senses from the “blooming, buzzing confusion” out there (William James’ phrase), and organizes it into a coherent pattern in our minds, so we will be able to function in the world.

But what we see is not what is out there. There is an almost limitless amount of information “out there,” so the mind selects and organizes bits of that information into concepts and patterns that make our lives manageable. (One scientist estimated that we are able to take in only one-half of one percent of all the information available to us in fairly busy circumstances.) Thus, to be able to function within this endless stream of data, we form images and concepts in our minds, and thus, when we interact with the world that we believe is “out there,” we are actually dealing with images and concepts put together in our own minds.

In other words, in order to function in the world I have to create a concept of the world “out there,” as well as a concept of a self that is acting and functioning in that world. I must create an image in my mind of myself functioning in a world—neither of which is what it seems. This means I must think of myself as an object. And this object I create in my mind is my ego self. If I pay close attention, though, I will discover that there is a part of me that can look at, can observe, both the “world out there” as well as “me”—the ego self my mind has created of who I am.

If, for a moment, I try to turn my attention around and observe who is looking, if I try to discover who is creating the concepts, I cannot find it. I can create another concept of myself, but that concept is not my direct experience; another concept is not a direct observation. My only immediate, direct experience is of simply being aware—of observing. I am aware of people, of things in the world, of feelings, images, plans, hopes, and fears within me. Each of these can be seen only because it has been made into an object in my awareness. But as hard as I try, I cannot observe the awareness itself. I cannot find who or what is observing. I can only recognize that, in some way, I “am” it.

To get a sense of this, close your eyes and turn your attention inward, toward the observer inside you that is looking out at the world. If you turn and look at the one who is looking, what do you see? Don’t get caught up in ideas and concepts about this “I.” Try to get behind these concepts to an immediate experience of what is there.

When I do this, I realize that my immediate experience is of an openness, a receptive space in which ideas, images, and concepts come and go, form and dissolve. When I think of an object or person, it becomes a part of my awareness. Then, when I think about or look at something else, that becomes part of my awareness. Whatever I focus on is included, soon to be replaced by the next idea, object, or person that comes into mind. In my direct experience, this awareness is not an object like the objects I am observing. And, although I can have the thought, can form a concept that “this awareness is in my brain,” I have absolutely no direct evidence for this. I have no evidence at all that the center of this awareness is in my physical brain.

You can shift your attention in many directions: toward the sky, a tiny insect, a specific part of your body. You can focus on emotions, ideas, or another person. You can focus on the past or the future. So your awareness is not limited by space or time. You can imagine being in any number of different places—the seashore, a mountain top, a space station looking down on Earth. When you form these images, your awareness is not limited to here, or now.

As an experiment, think about a discomfort in your body. Now, think about a powerful emotion you experienced recently. Now think of someone you love. Next, think of a movie you like. Now look out and focus on the furthest object you can see. When I do this, as I shift my awareness, each thing I focus on seems to be a part of my awareness. When I focus on any of these things, it becomes an “object” to me, but none are the awareness itself. And these objects are not directing my attention to themselves one after another. What is? Something in “me,” a mysterious “something” that opens toward the most fundamental part of who I am.

Once again, try to turn and look at who or what this is. If you can’t find it, try for a moment to describe it to yourself.

When I do this exercise, I can never find the observer, but I do sense that it is quite different from the way I normally think of myself. Although many wisdom traditions talk about the witness, they do not all describe it the same way. I think this is because it does not lend itself to conceptions. To compensate, each tradition has created different words and images to talk about it. But all these words are imperfect. In fact, this awareness will never fit into any conceptual box. It is like trying to observe light, which we cannot do. Space that appears dark is not free of light, but only of objects to reflect the light. We can only see objects which reflect light, and so we infer light’s existence because we see the objects. Awareness is something like that.

9. The Higher Self: Some spiritual traditions stop with the witness or observer, but one characteristic of someone completely centered in the observer is that there is no motivation to act. Life is just “as it is.” There is no motivation to change “what is”—it doesn’t feel like anything needs to be changed. From the point of view of the pure witness, why would you try to change the way things are? The witness simply sees life as it is, and “accepts what is.”

Importantly, there are times in our lives when this is the ideal response—such as times when we are being driven by unhealthy urges and fears. But if everyone were centered in witness consciousness all the time, human life would grind to a halt. There would be no motivation for anyone to act. And, if some people were centered in the witness and some were not, and those who were not started acting from unhealthy motivations causing bad outcomes—then the witness would simply “accept what is.” A person centered in witness consciousness would have no point of view from which to decide how things should be any different than the way they are.

If a person is totally in witness consciousness, from where would the motivation to help others arise? And who would they choose to help, the robber or the person being robbed? If I look out at the world from a place of complete calm, I can see countless people engaged in endless activities that are creating pain, sadness, even starvation and death. But it is endless—the endless flow of normal human life. This cannot be fixed. To do anything requires choosing a specific place to start, a particular problem to engage, specific people to focus on, a specific place to give one’s energy and attention. But from the point of view of the witness, there is no basis upon which to make such choices. Thus, through the ages, most spiritual traditions have suggested that who you are goes beyond the witness.

This you, beyond the witness, does not just observe what is, but sees the harmony beyond the chaos and can provide guidance as to what is truly meaningful—for you and for other people. This is the still small voice within, the voice of conscience that says, “Don’t do that, even though it is popular.” It is the voice that calls you to the hard task, the one that provides a sense of the values that are truly important for your life. How can you separate this higher self from the ego? It is complicated, and usually involves a lifetime’s work. But one clue given by Jung is that, if a feeling inside suggests acting in a way that seem like a “defeat for the ego,” this is a sign you are having an “encounter with the Self,” your Higher Self.

Trying to think about this aspect of ourselves is especially complicated, because it goes so far beyond the categories of the thinking mind. The Higher Self is completely beyond thoughts and concepts. If we try to capture it in words, it slips through our mental fingers—which is why it is so often approached through riddles, metaphors, and parables. This is also the reason that different wisdom traditions might seem to be talking about different things when trying to describe this level of our being—and their words can create more confusion than clarity. It is quite possible all the words and concepts of the different traditions point to the same thing. Or perhaps they don’t. How will we ever know, because those who have truly experienced the Higher Self and want to describe it to the rest of us must use language that is totally inadequate for the task.

Despite this difficulty, however, most wisdom traditions say there is “something” that exists beyond the ego, beyond the unconscious, and even beyond the witness. Crucially, they all tell us this is the most authentic, the deepest or highest Self. Hindus call it the Atman; Quakers speak of the Inner Light or Inner Teacher; Christians tell us about the soul; Jews speak of the spark of the Divine within; some modern teachers call it our “essence” or authentic self, and many Buddhists say we find the Buddha within or that we become one with Buddha-nature. The images of Buddhist compassion through the centuries come from those who have gone beyond simply “accepting what is” and are living from this level of being.

Most importantly, all the traditions agree that only by discovering and living from this level of ourselves will we ever come to know who we really are, and only by doing this will we have a chance to live a truly authentic and fulfilling life.

10. The Unitive Self: Here, at the tenth level, we reach what Jung believed to be the final stage of existence:

“This is the decisive question for man: Is he related to something infinite or not? That is the telling question of life. Only if we know that the thing which truly matters is the infinite can we avoid fixing our interest upon futilities, and upon all kinds of goals which are not of real importance. If we understand and feel that here in this life we have a link with the infinite, desires and attitudes change. In the final analysis, we count for something only because of the essential we embody, and if we do not embody that, life is wasted.”

Jung did not think the goal of life was to disengage from the world, as some spiritual traditions suggest. Rather, he emphasized the importance of developing a healthy channel of communication between the ego and the Self in which the ego turns to the Higher Self for guidance. In so doing, we find the best way to relate to the Infinite, and the best way to implement the Self’s guidance into the living of our lives. In this model, the Higher Self is the link to the Unitive, the Numinous dimension, the Infinite. In Jung’s view, the goal of “individuation” is to become a whole human being, not someone cut off from human life. To become whole is not easy, of course, for it requires making the darkness in oneself conscious, getting to know all sides of oneself, forming a connection to the Higher Self—which connects us to the Infinite, and then integrating everything in a healthy way.

On this path you do not disown any part of yourself, since you can never truly get rid of any of the levels that are part of you. In fact, if you consciously—or unconsciously—reject or despise any part of yourself you will just drive those parts into your shadow, where they will wreak havoc on your life. If you haven’t owned your shadow, haven’t recognized how your shadow side is affecting everything that is going on in you, you will blame negative outcomes on others, or on chance. On the other hand, if you get to know your shadow, you will be able to integrate the enormous energy contained therein in a healthy way, and be able to use it in living of your life. Through a fully developed conscious awareness you will gradually be able to bring all the parts of yourself into balance and harmony, learning to use all your energies appropriately—like a dancer moving in perfect harmony with all the currents within and without.

In the three higher realms, the Witness, the Higher Self, and the Unitive Self, all the distinctions I am making with words ultimately fail, for these levels overlap and interact. But we can catch a glimpse of the whole. As Dante said at the end of the Paradisio:

Mine were not the wings for such a flight.
Yet, as I wished, the truth I wished for came
Cleaving my mind in a great flash of light.

Because he is a human being, Dante does not have the “wings,” the ability (metaphorically speaking) to fly into the highest realm. Yet his aspiration to catch a glimpse of the highest truth is so strong that his devout wish is fulfilled—not as a thought or concept, but by a vision that cleaved his mind “in a great flash of light.”

Like Dante, many of us on the ultimate journey long to catch a glimpse of the highest truth for ourselves. And, like Dante, sometimes our fervent wish bear’s fruit. But when it does, if we try to explain it afterward, it is crucial to keep in mind that the words we use to describe what we have seen are not “IT,” do not capture it, and never will. As T.S. Eliot said:

Words strain, crack, and sometimes break,
Under the burden,
Under the tension,
slip, slide, perish,
Decay with the impression, will not stay in place,
Will not stay still.

Our words cannot pin “It” down because our thinking minds, and the words and concepts that thinking minds use, are part of ego consciousness, and that consciousness always experiences itself as separate from the whole. In contrast, when experiencing the highest dimensions there is no such separation. Mystics of all traditions have confirmed over and over that when immersed in the highest dimensions one’s identity is not separate from others, or from nature, or from the Divine. One anonymous Christian mystic called it the “Cloud of Unknowing.” Experiencing this for oneself means becoming one with the Tao, waking up as the Buddha, or joining a chorus of Christian mystics singing, “My me is God” and “See! I am God; See! I am in all things; See! I do all things.”

The difference between the Higher Self and the Unitive Self is, therefore, hard to put into words. But to make an effort, when in the Higher Self, one still feels a separate self exists. It is beyond the ego and it is beyond the witness; this self sees how the whole fits together, but there is still an individual actor to which it is connected. When in the Higher Self, there is a perspective from which one looks at the whole, and in looking can see other unique selves who are also looking. In the Unitive state, however, what is experienced is that there is only One in the whole universe, and “That Art Thou,” as it is said in the Upanishads. In this place, there is no separate identity; who “you” are is One, and it includes “All That Is.”

The modern teacher Eckhart Tolle was trying to capture this when he said: “Can I sense my essential Beingness … my essential identity as consciousness itself?” Several centuries earlier, the Christian mystic Jacob Boehme said much the same thing after a profound glimpse. In his words, “The knower and the known are one.”

Stepping into this dimension—variously called the Numinous, the Tao, the Transcendent, the Infinite, God, the Divine, the Absolute, the Ultimate, Nirvana, the Great Spirit, Buddha-nature, Ein Sof, and Brahma—means moving beyond the observer and into the space captured by the Chinese poet Li Po:

The birds have vanished into the sky,
and now the last cloud drains away.
We sit together, the mountain and me,
until only the mountain remains.

In the tradition of Islam, it is to discover that, as Ibn al-Arabi, one of the greatest Sufi mystics and philosophers, said, “He who knows himself knows his Lord.”
Arriving at this place, one joins the 11th century Japanese poet Izumi Shikibu as she writes:

Watching the moon at dawn,
solitary, mid-sky,
I knew myself completely:
no part left out.

Many of these quotes baffle and intrigue, leaving me with a sense that there is much more to step into than I have been able to do fully up to the present. So they urge me on, urge me to continue the exploration of “Who am I,” until I eventually become the Ultimate that a few have been able to “Be.”

If you are on this journey, but are not yet fully established in the Unitive, do not be discouraged. There is never any reason to be discouraged—that is the ego talking. It is always the ego that wants to get somewhere else.

And don’t be concerned that many of the quotes I have shared are from long ago. Stepping into the Ultimate is an ever-present human capacity; it is a possibility for each life; it has existed always and will always exist. For contemporary confirmation, here is an account of a “normal” person like you and me. While on vacation in Cypress, Muz Murray was looking at the sea in the afterglow of sunset and suddenly, without warning, everything changed. In an instant, the world was new:

“I was shown that every cell had its own consciousness which was mine. And it seemed … that the whole of humanity was in the same condition: each ‘individual’ believing in his or her separate mind, but in reality still subject to a single controlling consciousness, that of Absolute Consciousness Itself.”

One more: C. G. Price, a farmer in England who was having financial difficulties and was trying to focus on nothing in particular except spreading straw for his livestock, said that suddenly:

“I seemed to be enveloped in a cocoon of golden light that actually felt warm, and which radiated a feeling of Love so intense that it was almost tangible. One felt that one could grasp handfuls of it, and fill one’s pockets. In this warm cocoon of golden light I sensed a presence which I could not actually see, but knew was there. My mind became crystal clear, and in an instant of time I suddenly knew, without any doubts, that I was part of a ‘Whole.’ Not an isolated part, but an integral part. I felt a sense of ‘One-ment.’ I knew that I belonged and that nothing could change that. The loss of my farm and livelihood didn’t matter any more. I was an important part of the ‘Wholeness’ of things, and transient ambitions were secondary.”

You can step into this place. As many mystics have said, it is closer than breath, than heartbeat. You cannot force it to happen, but you can open to the possibility. You can do that right now. For a moment, sitting in the experience of reading this essay, and the quotes shared within it, simply let yourself rest in awareness itself. Give yourself permission to just be “Beingness,” without thinking or doing anything. Don’t try to keep from having thoughts; just let yourself be consciousness itself. Do not try, just be for a moment, and let whatever happens happen, without judgment, without opinions, without preferences.

If you step into the Ultimate, will it last forever? What part of you is asking that question? Whoever it is, it clearly is not the you that is in the Ultimate. The Ultimate is timeless. And, if the Buddha is correct, it is deathless. Jesus said it is to be forever with Abba, “Father” in his native Aramaic tongue. And if Rumi is right, it is to be “one.”

I have thrown duality away like an old dishrag,
I see and know all times and worlds,
As one, one, always one.

Be well

David

All the essays in this series are being posted on my web site as they are written, at: A Meaningful Life  https://ameaningfullife.org

The fifth essay in The Ultimate Journey concerns the many parts of ourselves, the different layers that make up an individual identity.

The internal mechanics of the human mind are as complex as anything in the universe. Science has been investigating the mind for centuries, yet so much is not understood. One of the things that has eluded scientific explanation is consciousness—what it is, where it is, how it came to be.

The incredible complexity of individual consciousness defies mechanistic explanations; each is different, with layer upon layer of feelings, thoughts, wishes, memories, dreams, desires, fantasies, motivations. The chakra system developed in India is one way to think about this complexity, but many others have been developed through the centuries, including ancient ones within Buddhism, Christianity, Islam, Confucianism, and Jewish thought. More recent models come from Jungian psychology, the enneagram, the Gurdjieff work, and Roberto Assagioli’s image of how the psyche works. All are valuable, and no single model is “best.”

One central question all these systems wrestle with is that of identity: “Who am I?” Each of us has numerous possibilities for how we will choose to think about who we are. And because our sense of identity shifts from moment to moment—and can change radically over a lifetime—a crucial question we each continually face is: What definition of who I am will I organize around now?

If you start to pay attention, you notice that shifts in identity usually happen at the unconscious level. But they can be made more conscious, and by doing this you will discover that growth and transformation are about developing the ability to consciously shift your identity from a smaller to a larger self, from an ego-centered outlook to an understanding that includes more, ultimately much more.

Working with identity, however, is difficult, partly because there are so many different ways I can think about who I am. One image I have found valuable is of a river into which many streams flow. Some streams come up from underground to join the river, others flow in from the surface. Rain and snow fall from overhead. In this river there are rapids and calm pools. Storms come and go, adding water to the river and sometimes agitating its surface. In this image, “I” am floating down the river of life, buffeted by every change of current. The whole river is the flow of existence, and in that flow, the little “me” floating along is trying to put together a coherent life. Occasionally, however, I have a sense that the river is also me, but this feeling is fleeting, and I don’t really understand what it means. Even more rarely, I sometimes have a sense that surrounding everything, interpenetrating it all, existing as All, is the Numinous, the Infinite. But words fail here.

For each of us, when we are young, the “small me” is mostly carried along by currents from the world around us as we try to fulfill the urges and desires that are constantly rising up from within (for food, safety, comfort, sex, power, and more). The main task of life, when we are young, is trying to balance influences from the culture over against the urges and desires coming up from within. According to a number of wisdom figures through the ages, the best way to do this is to make all the conflicting currents as conscious as possible in order to make good choices about how to spend one’s time and energy. If we do this reasonably well, we create a somewhat coherent ego self that has agency in the world.

The more we understand ourselves—the currents inside as well as the forces pushing and pulling from outside—the better we will be at making healthy choices and implementing them in the world. As we are able to do this with increasing skill, the better we are at steering our little ship toward a destination that seems truly valuable and important, rather than being carried this way and that by every passing current. The opposite is also the case: If we remain unconscious about the forces pushing and pulling from within and without, the more we are simply flotsam and jetsam bobbing along on the surface of the river of life without meaning or direction.

A Model: 10 Levels

When I was growing up, I came to understand myself through a model that was passed along from my culture by the people around me. It has been hard to disentangle from those views, often very difficult. Yet it has been exhilarating as well, as I accepted the challenge of separating my understanding of who I was from the early enculturation I was given. The result is a mixture of wisdom from my early years, letting go of misunderstandings and prejudices, and working to include wisdom from other cultures and traditions.

You will find below my current understanding of the levels of myself, developed over a lifetime. This model grows out of and borrows from many sources, but owes a special debt to the chakra tradition and to Carl Jung’s ideas. Interestingly, these two models seldom conflict—they just approach understanding who we are in different ways. In the model below there are 10 different levels of who I am. Thinking about myself in this way has helped me arrive at a deeper understanding and a more conscious life. May it do the same for you.

1. The undifferentiated self: A small child’s identity is not separate from the mother or from immediate caregivers; rather, it is merged and mingled with them, as well as with objects in the surrounding world. As we grow, however, a separate identity develops, but the young undifferentiated identity does not disappear—it is simply overlayed with self-images and identities that gradually push it into the background, into the unconscious. Since it is still present in the unconscious, however, the undifferentiated identity will reemerge in times of stress, group hysteria, or when the overlaid identities loosen for any reason (sleep deprivation, physical exhaustion, euphoria, mystical experiences, drug-induced moments, or mental illness).

Our first identity has its primary focus in the body, along with all the urges and desires centered there—first for food, comfort, safety, and security and then for sex and other pleasures (all these make up what Freud called the id drives). In our earliest years, therefore, you and I (along with everyone else) experienced these drives and desires as the center of who we were and what life was about.

2. The communal self: In many cultures, societal members are taught that the self should be identified with the group rather than with a separate individuality. Most ancient cultures placed greater emphasis on communal identity than does the modern world—and this is both a blessing and a curse. Each culture is different, and there have always been differences between how cultures molded the identities of their members, with some putting more emphasis on individuality, some on group identity. Those differences in emphasis remain today. Reporting on a study, Sharon Begley noted in Newsweek that when someone raised in a Chinese culture had the thought “mother,” the sense of “me” was activated, but not when a typical American thought about “mother.”

These differences are not all-or-nothing propositions, of course. At any given moment, each of us is somewhere on a sliding scale between oneness with a group and a feeling of individuality. Even in individualistic cultures, some people are more identified with the group than others, and in communal cultures, some lean more toward individualism than others (stories of members who were fiercely individualistic come down to us from the most communal cultures).

If, therefore, you were enculturated into a group identity, some individualism will inevitably find a way to manifest itself, for there is an urge toward individual fulfillment in everyone. If that urge is not given sufficient attention, it will burst forth in unconscious ways. For instance, those raised to identify with an extended family will act selflessly part of the time, but the individualistic urge, chafing at the bit, will push through at times and try to control the actions of others in the family “for their own good.” This is individuality asserting its power under the guise of group concern.

To add to the complexity of this picture, throughout our lives most of us will shift, sometimes toward greater individualism, then back toward increased communal identity, then back again to individualism. Freudian psychology deals extensively with these issues, and he defined the superego as the part of us that is enculturated to follow the rules of society. It is the internal voice that tells us to follow the rules of the group. Thus, when you are identified with this part of yourself, you think of yourself as the one who does what you are “supposed to do”—as the group understands it.

3. Personas: As we grow up, in order to fulfill the obligations we have been assigned, we each develop several roles we play within our culture, the faces we put on in day-to-day dealings with the people in our lives, roles such as rebel, good friend, athlete, life of the party, the adventurous one, the nerd, the outcast, beautiful person, the trend-setter, and on and on. As we get older, we continue developing personas, such as doctor, caregiver, housewife, teacher, sexual explorer, businessperson, and on and on. In our early years, we don’t consciously choose these roles; rather, the people in our lives tend to define them for us and we develop them with the encouragement of others (or sometimes in rebellion against the roles the people around us are trying to force on us). Most importantly, in our early years we think these roles constitute who we are.

Developing personas is not a bad thing; in fact, it is valuable and necessary. In Carl Jung’s view (who coined the modern usage of the term persona) they are crucial for many life situations. In the world, we all take on a role (boss, devoted employee, considerate relative, interested member of a group), developing a persona as a vehicle to create and maintain relationships. These roles are very useful. But some people spend their lives identifying with their personas, thinking these roles constitute all of who they are. (Think of a stern drill sergeant who carries that role home to his wife and kids, or a beauty queen who is always playing that role in all situations.) The difficulties of some famous people—several actors and politicians spring to mind—arise from the fact that they believe their personas constitute the totality of their identities.

There is, however, much more to each of us than our personas, and if we mature, we will gradually realize that the roles we play are not our full selves.

4. The complexes: Each of us has many different moods we can be in at different times, different emotional states that come and go. Most of us can be angry, fearful, playful, guilty, jealous, remorseful, insecure, confident, sad, and on and on. The thing we don’t usually notice is that we act and think quite differently when we are in each of these different states. Jung called these different internal points of view our complexes, and noted that each different complex sees the world and ourselves in a different way, sometimes very different.

As we move through life, we switch into one complex and then another, seeing ourselves and the world differently in each. For a taste of this, just remember a time when someone was late and you started becoming upset, feeling angry; perhaps you felt the other person did not value you. Suddenly, you receive a phone call and learn that person was in a car accident, and you move very rapidly into fear, or caretaking, or sadness. This switch can occur in an instant. So, which complex was the “real” you?

Different situations bring out our different moods, different complexes. Most of us organize around one of our complexes when at work, another during a romantic evening, and still others when playing sports, visiting parents, caring for children, traveling, or at a party. And to emphasize again, the way we think about ourselves and the world is different in each one. Think of the difference in how you feel about yourself when you are in a confident mood versus when you are feeling fearful; when you have just lost a contest, versus having won; when an invitation you extended is accepted versus rejected. Think of how other people seem different to you when you are angry versus when you are remorseful.

The way most of us go through life is that some outside event triggers one of our moods, and we believe for a moment that this is who we really are. (It is amazing how easy it is to identify with one current and then another, without remembering that just a few minutes before we saw ourselves differently.) Then, something else happens and we switch feeling states and the way we see the world changes. Most of us switch often, identified with first one and then another of our complexes. The more conscious we become, however, the more we will be able to recognize the different complexes and thus be able to choose the one that is appropriate for the current situation.

There is great freedom in being able to make such choices. It allows us to use our different moods wisely—which is much better than being taken over by one after another. Imagine what it would be like if you could instantly recognize when you were being pulled into your angry self, or guilty self, or insecure self—and could choose how much energy and attention to give each state rather than being taken over by one after another. Better still, what if you were able to use the energies of your various complexes intentionally by consciously choosing which one to be in. What if you learned to consciously combine several at once?

Complexes and personas overlap, but they are somewhat different. In broad terms, when in a complex, most of us identify so fully with that specific feeling or mood state that we lose any sense of separation from it—we think that is who we really are. On the other hand, when using a persona, with a little maturity we usually recognize that it is not our full identity; we remember that we are playing a role with others and they do not know all of who we are.

In this model I am building, the ego is everything we know and understand about ourselves. Thus, when we are caught up in a complex, in that moment that particular complex is who we think we are, so that complex and our ego self have merged in that moment. Think of a time you were so caught up in anger, or sexual desire, or fear that you forgot every other perspective. In such moments, there was no separation between your angry self, your sexual self, or your fearful self, and who you thought you were. You saw everything and everyone through the lens of that one current.

These are the moments in life you are likely to make the most serious mistakes. These are the times, when, a few minutes later, you are saying: “How could I have done that?” “How could I have said that?” The ability to raise such questions indicates you have moved back into a perspective that includes more than your anger, fear, or sexual desire. You now see that there are other points of view from which you could have chosen differently.

In this model, growth and development involve the ego becoming more and more aware of the various complexes within and strengthening the ego so that it cannot be pushed aside by any of your feeling or mood states. As your ego develops the strength and ability to make choices between the different currents within, sometimes you will choose to act from the energy of a complex, and sometimes not. As you become more conscious, the ego learns to stay present as the different complexes come and go, and you are able to make increasingly healthy choices that lead toward a balanced and coherent life.

To get a feel for this, every now and then stop and ask yourself which complex you are feeling most strongly at the moment. Are you angry, sad, confident, peaceful, or some other state? Consciously register to yourself the state you are in. Now ask: “Shall I try to shift my energy to a different state, a different mood, or shall I let this one remain the center of attention for now?” In this way, the ego can begin to play a more active role in managing your life, and you will begin to live from a broader perspective. This is the path to a healthy ego state. But first, it is important to recognize that we can have an unhealthy ego.

5. An unhealthy ego: This one little word, ego, has created an enormous amount of mischief. The word Freud used in German meant “I,” but it was given a fancy-sounding Latin name when translated into English, thus the simple pronoun “I” became the mysterious ego. The motives of the translator are unclear, but the translator’s audacity in changing Freud’s intent has given rise to great confusion and endless arguments.

There are many definitions for ego in the English language today, so let me give the one I prefer, which is also the one used by most mainstream psychologists: The ego is simply who I think I am as I go about living my life. It includes everything that comes to mind when I think of myself. In short, my ego is “me.” It is the “me” I think of as myself, my individual self, including all the thoughts, emotions, desires, values, responsibilities, abilities, body images, and memories of which I am conscious. (Of which I am conscious—that is the key phrase in defining ego.) My ego is simply my sense of who I think I am.

The ego can be healthy or unhealthy. Some people remain fairly undifferentiated, failing to develop much of an ego, thus remaining fused with other people and the world around them. They do not develop a clear sense of a separate self. Others develop an insecure ego, and still others a narcissistic one. For a narcissistic ego there is little or no concern for the needs and desires of others. It feels it is, and should be, the center of the universe, and that other people are objects to fulfill its desires.

Those who are wholly identified with the narcissistic ego (and most of us are at times), feel that the world should be organized for our enjoyment and fulfillment. The overwhelming sense is that everyone is out to get what they can for themselves, and everyone is in competition with every other person for the good things in life. For those organized in this place, the only restraints to action—if there are any—is fear of being punished, condemned, or blamed. Thus the need for rules and laws in all societies.

Make no mistake, however, extreme narcissists can be quite successful in the world. Skilled narcissists learn to manipulate others to get what they want, and can become very clever at seeming to follow the rules of society while surreptitiously breaking them. Some narcissists are good at getting others to focus on their wishes and desires (just notice how some celebrities are treated). Ironically, the narcissistic ego needs attention precisely because it is weak. It is always seeking more recognition, more praise, always wanting more of what it believes it needs. Trouble is, no matter how much it receives, it is never enough. Thus, the path to healing narcissism is for a person to get beyond their narcissistic wounds so they can feel truly good about themselves deep inside.

The difference between a healthy ego and a narcissistic one is that a healthy ego does not exclusively focus on itself but recognizes that others also have needs and desires and thus makes an effort to recognize the feelings and needs of others. A healthy ego recognizes that a big part of life involves being in good relationships with others and sees that it must take the feelings and needs of others into account. It therefore values mutuality and exchange. So, let us move to what a healthy ego looks like.

6. A healthy ego: As we develop consciousness of our inner self, first we become aware of the urges, needs, and desires in our first years, then those that developed on through puberty. These needs and desires are strong and urgent, and our early lives were mostly organized around fulfilling them as best we could. As consciousness continues to develop, we begin to sense that the roles we play are not who we really are, that beneath the surface is more than just the roles. We begin to develop a self that recognizes the personas are simply ways to interact with others. We are now developing a conscious ego self.

For example, you might behave in a friendly way toward someone at work but inside you realize you are seething with anger at that same person. In this situation, the ego knows you are angry, while the persona is the mask you are wearing as you act pleasant. The “you” that knows you are angry is ego awareness. Another example would be acting stern with a child to make a point, while inside you are feeling tenderness toward that same child.

With the emergence of ego awareness, the ego takes on the job of fulfilling our needs and desires. Using Freud’s terms, these urges and desires are our id energies, and the superego the part of us that has incorporated societal rules and tries to get us to obey them. These superego rules are the boundaries for our actions in relation to other people, the guardrails we feel we must stay within as we pursue our wants and needs. The ego mediates between the id and the superego as it tries to fulfill as many of our wants and desires as possible.

At this stage of development, then, your ego manages your life. It tries to balance all the internal currents and conflicts in relation to outer pressures and demands. To do this, it makes decisions and develops a course of action, while trying to get the id desires, the complexes, and the superego to go along with the unified plan. It operates by thinking things through and coming to conclusions about how it will use your time and energy: what it will commit to, the things it will decline, where it will place its attention, and the things it will try to turn your attention away from because they are not helpful for movement toward the overall goals.

When you reach this level of development, you recognize there are a lot of things you know about yourself that you are not sharing with others, with the result that people do not really know you. Therefore, to develop mental health, it is crucial to find a few people with whom you can share yourself more fully. This is a step toward a healthy ego, and if you don’t take it, you will never have true friends or loved ones and you will never receive honest feedback to use for growth.

As you are able to distinguish between your ego and your personas, and then become conscious of all the moods that sometimes take over your awareness, you are gradually able to drop a persona when it is no longer appropriate in a given situation (being stuck in the wrong persona is always a problem). And you are able to use the energy of a complex when it fits the situation, then put it aside when it does not. Your ego awareness becomes the manager of your life, bringing your personas and complexes into a well-functioning team. This is not easy, of course; it requires a lot of work to reach this level of self awareness.

Anyone who has tried to understand this process has discovered how amazingly complicated it is, as evidenced by the countless volumes that have been written trying to define and describe the internal mental system of a human being. To catch a glimpse of how mysterious and difficult understanding all this is, ask yourself: Where is my ego? How do I decide on what I will do and what I won’t do? Do I see the part of me that is formulating a plan of action? Do I always go along with the plan? If not, what part of me wants to go in a different direction?

These questions go on and on: When I wish for conflicting things—to eat a lot of sweet food but not gain weight, to watch a movie but also get some sleep, to attend two different events that are happening at the same time, to go on a date but also finish a project—how do I decide? How do I know when my ego is making decisions, versus an id urge, a complex, or the superego?

When I try to work through these questions, I realize that no part of this system can be seen clearly. It is all ephemeral, made up of vague concepts. Still, I have an intuitive sense that there is a part of me that is trying to organize my life, trying to fulfill as many goals and ambitions as possible in terms of career, relationships, health, adventure, romance, learning, and having fun. Amidst all these currents, there is some part of me that is trying to balance them all while also trying to manage my fears, anxieties, commitments and aversions—trying to navigate all the competing interests in my life as best it can. To me, that is my ego, but trying to get a handle on it intellectually is like trying to see an electron—I can only see the traces of its actions after they have occurred.

It is, of course, quite possible to use a different word to describe this part of ourselves. But it is not possible to live without some part of oneself fulfilling this function, prior to complete enlightenment or becoming totally merged with the Infinite. Thus, you have a functioning ego, whatever name you give it. What I recommend—since we seem to be stuck with it through broad usage—is that we all use ego in the way Freud, Jung, and many modern psychologists understand it.

This means, for me, that when I seek success, power, fame, prestige, or personal wealth, the pursuit is organized by my ego. These are some of life’s main motivations, and my ego has tried to balance and fulfill these goals much of my life. But also, when I try to be a good person, participate in a healthy relationship, help other people, or improve the world, these pursuits are also organized by my ego. In fact, when I pursue anything, it is my ego that organizes my life to be able to move in that direction. Even the desire for enlightenment, liberation, or to go to heaven is organized by the ego—which is the reason the Buddha said we must have the one “Great Desire” and Christians speak of “Holy Longing.” In short, the best word I know for the part of ourselves that tries to organize a life, balancing all the disparate currents, is the ego.

Crucially, in this model the ego is not bad; in fact, it is a totally necessary part of being human. I sometimes smile inside when someone says they want “to get rid of the ego,” because the only part of us that would have that thought is the ego. Just think about what that phrase actually means: “I want to get rid of I.” This is altogether different from asking: “Who am I?”

A few saints and sages have stepped into a field where there was no longer an ego present, but I have never read about any who did this by focusing on getting rid of the ego. Or talking about wanting to. It always grew out a profound moment that happened in a way that no one knows how to plan for, or make happen. I don’t think it was ever the ego that made such a thing happen. Thus, when a person says they want to get rid of the ego, it suggests an ego that thinks it will seem special to itself or others if it says it wants to get rid of itself.

In this model, the goal is to work toward developing a healthy ego instead of an unhealthy one, an ego that recognizes that other people are valuable and worthwhile. Then, as that work proceeds, it is learning to direct the ego toward goals that reflect higher possibilities and finding ways to open one’s identity to dimensions that are larger than the ego.

Once I have made sufficient progress on those steps, I might be ready to undertake the difficult work of beginning to let go of everything that keeps me from becoming my full self.

Next week: The 4 higher levels: 

7) The Full Self, 8) The Witness, 9) The Higher Self, 10) The Unitive Self

Be well

David

All the essays in this series are being posted on my web site as they are written, at: A Meaningful Life  https://ameaningfullife.org