THE POWER HUNGRY—
THE POWER STARVED
What is normally considered to be power is not real power at all. Chasing money, glamour, sex; wanting control over others—political and military power—are all manifestations of the ego. They’re often glorified forms of showing off; they dwell in the currency of the ego, and they often appeal only to other egos, so they’re subject to people’s whims. A person can be rich and successful and still be very weak. Money doesn’t give you real strength; it just keeps you comfortable while you experience your dysfunction. The world of the ego is brittle, fragile, and insecure; it never feels really safe, and it has no lasting worth. The ego’s world dies. More often than not, it self-destructs.
With the explosion of the mass media and the information superhighway, glamour, hype, and showing off have replaced true worth. The 32-second sound bite is more important than real facts. A glossy, skimmed-down version of life is all anyone has time for, as each vies with the other for a momentary place in the sun.
Many people are victimized by their egos; they feel powerstarved, so they crave to be special. Of course, everyone is special in their own spiritual way, but the mass media has heightened people’s need to seek fame and attention. Thirsting for power, in the ego’s sense of power, they go through the ludicrous chase of trying to be important, trying to become special in the eyes of others, seeking praise, seeking status. This frenetic chase destroys and saps their energy.
Because the ego is insecure, its fears need to be quelled, so it dominates our psychology, firing off endless demands. It desperately wants things—right now—that will help it feel better. We are programmed as children to make the ego important and to try to keep it happy, and this mesmerizes us into reacting to its every need.
We don’t realize that controlling the ego through discipline is a lot simpler than trying to satisfy it all the time. By gratifying the ego, one may get a fleeting respite from its craving and demands, but then it’s on—on to the next gratification. The ego always wants more.
It’s life on the mouse wheel, each trotting as fast as possible to stay in the same place. Endless effort, misspent on illusion. You can see why people are programmed into it—they are psychologically immature. It’s all a bit sad.
“Trying to Be Someone” comes from insecurity, which stems from the ego’s need for observers and admirers. It needs acknowledgment and stimulation to feel solid. But leaning psychologically and emotionally out into the world—demanding to be noticed, trying to be cool, seeking approval and acceptance, trying to impress, seeking praise and respect—creates imbalance and weakness. It is, in fact, an affirmation that says, “I’m not okay. I need others to approve of me in order to feel secure.” By leaning psychologically, you weaken yourself. Imagine constantly leaning forward at a severe angle, reaching out—you’re perpetually poised, heading for a fall.
Trying to win people over and hoping the world will accept you for your wonderfulness is futile and weak. It destroys your real power; the stress of it can make you ill. Even if you get what you want, it rarely lasts. Today’s success becomes tomorrow’s rejection. Leaning psychologically is a fault; it undermines what you are. Gradually you become the manifestation of other people’s reality—subject, of course, to all their fickle whims, moods, and power trips. By accommodating the ego in this way, you drift from the real spiritual you that dwells within—which is contained and solid—to a fake you that is brittle, self-indulgent, and powerless.
You can tell people how marvelous you are, and a hundred others can sing your praises and pump your worth, but all that is PR and hype. In the end, you’re only worth the etheric feeling you exude. That is a spiritual, metaphysical reality; everything else is illusion and dysfunction. If you want to be accepted, accept yourself. If you want to be acknowledged, acknowledge yourself. Simple.
Let’s leave hype and clatter, which are weak, and head to the less obvious—silence—where consolidation and real strength lie.