Can you coax the mind from wandering and keep to the original oneness…?
Can you cleanse your inner vision until you see nothing but the light…?
Can you step back from your own mind and thus understand all things…?
— LAO TZU, Tao Te Ching1
When I began this book, my emphasis was on the psychological and psychodynamic roots of the high-level narcissist from a clinical point of view. As the process evolved, I was aware of a shift in thought and direction. At first, I sensed quiet murmurings like gentle, ticklish whispers in my ear. As I moved forward, I felt myself being pulled by thoughts and words that became clearer and more forceful. I listened intently and recognized that there are alternative options, other pathways that lead to personal freedom beyond the psychological gyrations, demands, and games of the narcissist’s tightly woven net. In this chapter, I offer another perspective, a way to thrive and grow as a unique individual, despite the narcissist. Consider these alternatives; let them murmur in your ear. Allow them to resonate with you in the most personal sense.
Moving in opposition to the narcissist’s convoluted act often makes us feel as if we are fish swimming against a mighty current. Each stroke extracts tremendous effort, unless we learn to shift our perspective and view reality through a penetrating lens, a vision beyond narcissism. The metaphor that comes to mind is that of a fine marathon runner. Spare and lean, his skin shining in the sun, he carries only the weight he must to perform his task. His gait is sure and steady as he moves up inclines and down waiting hills. The runner’s eyes reveal an uninterrupted concentration on the challenge he faces moment by moment, mile by mile. His mind and body and the road that he travels are one. He is not distracted by the crowd or the other competitors. He cannot be put off his tempo or stride. Even after twenty miles, a great distance-runner glides smoothly across the surface of the earth, each step a tiny masterpiece of conditioning and will, each heartbeat a testament to his resolve. As he passes by, we are awed and moved to gentle tears by the beauty of his courage and grace.
Today, many individuals are running a different kind of marathon, a trek to a land beyond ego satisfactions. They are no longer willing to live solely for themselves. Gazing inward, they tread quietly, like a wayfarer on a moonless night. Through the blackness, in the distance, they see a tiny light flickering. As they move forward, the beam becomes steadier, more radiant. Others have come to share a journey that leads to a loosening of attachments to our self-image and material longings. With an open giving heart, they are keenly aware of the pain of others, and they desire a reconciliation of past familial wounds, the untying of stubborn psychological knots, and a growing inner peace, a healing stillness.
Many human beings are riding a brightly festooned Ferris wheel of repetition, traveling in an endless circle like a dog chasing its tail. Unable to exit, we unconsciously repeat entrenched habits, compulsions, desires, emotional reactions, thought patterns, and psychological dramas that are unresolved and often unrecognized. These conditioned behaviors hold a fierce unrelenting grip on us. In Buddhism this human state is called samsara (the Sanskrit word means “perpetual wandering”).2 Wandering through life in a dream state, we have no map, compass, or destination. We stumble through a wilderness of repeated unproductive actions. We move through our lives, looking for comfort, pleasure, and possessions. The predictable cycle of desire—wishing and wanting—creates an endless pattern of misery. Some seek pleasures of the senses—taste, smell, touch, sound, sight. We are convinced that our survival depends on immediate gratification. Once satiated, we are hungrier for more material and sensory pleasure. This does not mean that we should not enjoy our bodies and minds. What is not skillful is seeking these sensory excesses as ends in themselves. Chronic cravings overwhelm our thoughts and feelings. Satiation becomes the goal.
Most people are unaware that they are constantly driven on an incessant search for the fruits of desire. We say to ourselves, “If I owned that car, I could create a new identity. People would judge me differently—as a success rather than a failure.” In another mind, the thought dawns: “If I met the right man [or woman], I could escape from this depressing monotonous daily routine. I wouldn’t be alone every night, feeling desperate and unwanted.” Another voice chimes in: “If I had a complete makeover, a face-lift, I would look ten years younger and be desirable again. Everything in my life would be changed for the best.”
The Buddha told us thousands of years ago that the source of suffering is attachment: to the body, mind, possessions, other human beings; to the senses; to our ideas—to everything. I remember a series of experiences I had while living on an island in the Pacific Northwest. The constant rain, drizzle, and darkness often made the residents grouchy and depressed but created the lush multiple hues of green that startled the eye and imagination. The island was heavily treed and subject to frequent power outages. I regularly walked my dog on a narrow road that faced the lapping Puget Sound waters. Along the way, I passed by homes of varied architectural styles Most of them were slightly weathered and rather modest. Several minutes into the walk I would rejoice as I observed a vacant waterfront lot distinguished by a majestic old cedar that stood at one end of the property. The tree had a powerful living presence with frilly thick boughs that seemed to reach the sky. Surely it was strong and noble enough to become an eagle’s nest. I hoped that the vacant property belonged to an owner of one of the adjacent houses. I had come to believe that it was possible that the lot would remain vacant indefinitely. But I was wrong. Within a year there were stirrings of future plans. Pickup trucks and SUVs appeared. A smartly coifed woman in her middle years started to come regularly. Boundaries were staked, some earth moved. Late one afternoon as I approached the lot, I smelled the strong distinctive fragrance of a cedar tree. I was horrified to see a fresh stump of great diameter left where the tree had been. I almost cried out loud. Why, why, why did these people chop down a tree that had stood with such dignity and beauty for many decades. It was at the farthest end of the lot. Each day as I passed by and for many months afterward, I could smell the tree’s essence as if its spirit lingered. I felt great sorrow and anger every time I encountered this spot.
As the months went by and late summer finally brought much-needed sunlight, a large custom home was built on the site—lot line to lot line. The owner had spared no expense or elaborate detail. Even the roof was copper-covered. As the project proceeded, I thought the owner would build some version of a post-and-beam structure to harmonize naturally with the Puget Sound setting. Instead, a house was constructed with thousands of square feet, overwhelming its neighbors with purposeful ostentation. Elaborate curlicues and arabesques of imported stone, wood, and copper encrusted the structure, which seemed to me like a woman in a heavily beaded dress, laboring to move beneath its weight, rigidity, and stiffness. The structure symbolized a paean to self. After the house was completed and occupied, I continued my walks along the road. I could still feel the stately tree that had been felled, like a magnificent bull elephant downed with a single evil shot. I was angered and appalled by this woman’s act of greed and selfishness.
One night as I lay in bed listening to the wind and watching the shadows of the trees dancing wildly, I realized that this woman, whom I silently detested, didn’t really own this house or the land on which it stood. She didn’t own the furnishings in her home, her personal possessions, even herself.
None of us owns anything, including our lives. As we become more conscious, we understand that the source of inner peace is nonattachment. When we undo the knots of attachment one by one, we set ourselves free to be the way we really are—transparent as a flawless diamond, bottomless as a crater lake.
Intuition is a moment of truth that arrives faster than a brain wave or the sharpest flash of lightning. It is an instantaneous illumination beyond study or thought. There are various ways of knowing—through the five senses, the intellect, instinct, hunches. Intuition has been associated with irrational knowledge in the Western world. Using one’s intuition is thought of as a kind of trick, a parlor game, the product of an unstable mind. Intuition is undervalued if not completely overlooked in solving problems and engaging in creative endeavors. Most professional psychotherapists would be chided for admitting that they frequently used their intuitive skills to diagnose and treat patients.
There are individuals who exploit their intuitive gifts to control and intimidate others. This destructive use of knowing is directly connected with the ego. These intuitions are based on character-logical arrogance and a need to psychologically dominate those around them. They inflict a brand of brainwashing on their victims by using intuitive capacities negatively. These individuals are aggressive and predatory, hiding beneath a thin veneer of personal magnetism and pseudo-empathy. Some “spiritual intuitives,” classically narcissistic, solicit devotees and sycophants to swell their cache of followers. Delusional admirers provide them with endless narcissistic supplies: inflated personal power, adulation, and monetary compensation.
The overly intellectual person has great difficulty suspending the persistent raindrops of intricate thoughts that race across his mind. He lives within the intricate labyrinth of a heavily layered mind. His head is full of complex interconnections, philosophies, erudite opinions, countless facts. He is a master at thinking and researching rather than feeling and intuiting. I have been astounded by the deep insights of people who have no formal education. The direct truths that they utter are more profound than the written and spoken words of any number of intellectuals.
The expanding and deepening of true intuition requires the suspension of the rational thinking mind and the quieting of the senses. It demands faith, discipline, and persistence. The highest levels of intuition are developed through regular deep meditation. Meditation, when it is practiced fervently and consistently, brings a calmness to the body and mind. It slows thoughts and quiets emotions. We enter a gathering peace. The nurturing of intuition is done one moment at a time. To be brought to a high level, intuition must become a priority in a person’s life.
Intuition involves a special kind of “sight” that awakens when the mind is at peace. Like a treasure that has long lain on the ocean floor, intuition bubbles up to the surface of the sea of our consciousness. In his commentary on the Bhagavad Gita (Song of the Beloved, or Song of the Lord),3 the great Indian guru Paramahansa Yogananda offers a poetic statement that sums up this capacity: “In the lake of intuition, free from the waves of thought, the yogi can see the unruffled reflection of the moon of the soul.”4
Meditation has always been a mystery to me, and in many ways its ineffable quality remains. How can someone stop thinking, feeling the senses, fantasizing, daydreaming, desiring? It all seemed so impossible, an activity reserved only for saints and yogis. Often when we attempt to meditate and feel that nothing is happening, we ask ourselves: “Why am I wasting my time sitting here fidgeting and wishing I was doing something else. My thoughts and emotions are running away with me. I can’t stop them.” A million times our minds wander, and a million times we gently bring ourselves back to the breath or the mantra that we have learned. We make the effort and continue in the process. We don’t give up. There is no such thing as a bad meditation. Devoted meditators of many decades say it is better to meditate daily for a few minutes than to sit once a week for an hour.
Meditation is a highly personal experience. There are so many books and teachers on the subject that it can be confusing and discouraging. Meditation is not the absence of thought. It is a process. Each meditation is unique. Making the effort to sit is a triumph. A very wise nun told me to first of all “make it pleasant.” Each person understands what that means to him. Experiment with this concept, and discover what you can do to create an environment that welcomes you to go inside.
Find a place in your home that is dedicated to meditation. (Some meditators prefer to perform their practice outdoors. The Buddha often meditated under a tree or beside a river.) By setting up a special spot, you will be inclined to condition yourself to practice there. Make sure that it is quiet and that you will not be distracted by phones, radios, TVs, humans, or animals. Some meditators set up a shrine, where they place special pictures, statues, flowers, stones. A lighted scented candle is a simple but powerful reminder to focus your attention. Appreciating the candle’s fragrance reinforces the meditation process. Universal masters like the Buddha, Jesus, great yogis, and lamas remind us that they too were human beings, living in the body at one time, who reached enlightenment. As we gaze at them inwardly or at their images on an altar or wall, we take heart that we are not alone. They are supreme examples of perseverance, faith, discipline, and compassion. They constantly remind us not to give up, to remain steady, open, and optimistic.
Make an effort to sit in meditation before you leave home in the morning. I know this task can seem daunting, but give it a try. It’s worth it. The length of the meditation is not significant. Getting the meditation in is more crucial than the time you spend. If you wait through the morning and afternoon, you can find yourself, at the end of the day or at night, tired and unwilling to make the effort, feeling guilty, or simply forgetting about it all together.
There are a number of ways to sit. Some meditators use round cushions designed for practice, which are comfortable for the coccyx and very effective in keeping the back straight. This allows the energy centers in the spine to flow smoothly. Experiment with the feel of your seat on the cushion. Cross your legs in easy pose (lower legs crossed with knees bent), or if you are particularly supple, use half-lotus or full-lotus pose. If possible, meditate in bare feet. If your feet are covered, the cosmic energy may not be as free to flow through the soles of your feet and circulate throughout your body. I find that placing my hands on my thighs, palms up or down, creates steady balance. You can also put your hands, palms up, at the juncture between the trunk of the body and the upper thighs. You may need a relatively flat cushion under your legs. Do what is necessary for your body. Experiment with different supports and hand positions until you find what works for you. Some meditators sit on chairs. If you choose this way, be sure you select a chair that is designed to keep the back straight. You may need to place some small blankets or towels under your feet so that you make firm contact with the floor or ground. This posture promotes a sense of security and solidity.
Close your eyes and direct your inner gaze to the point between the eyebrows, called the spiritual eye or the third eye. It is through the spiritual eye, the seat of wisdom and divine intuition, that the meditator experiences the cosmic flow. By focusing his gaze on the spiritual eye, the meditator can direct his concentration to a one-point focus rather than having it dissipate and disperse. This eye position avoids a downward motion that causes distractions and sleepiness.
With practice, putting one’s attention here becomes a restorative resting place. Closed eyes promote a quieting of the mind and body. You might find yourself nodding off as a result of sleep deprivation, feeling relaxed, or as a way of escaping meditation. When you are aware that you have detoured, bring yourself back to the point between your eyebrows. Allow your tongue to rest lightly on the roof of your mouth behind the front teeth.
In the West we think of breathing in a literal way. If you are breathing, you are alive; if you are not breathing, your life is threatened or you are dead. We are aware of obstructed breathing because of illness or a chronic medical condition or accident. This is usually the extent of our knowledge and appreciation of the breath. In Eastern practices for thousands of years, the breath has been studied and used as a tool for attaining physical, mental, and psychological health and reaching higher levels of spiritual consciousness.
Prana—in Sanskrit means “vital force,”5—that animates all of creation. It pulses through the galaxies, deep space, all light, color, sound, every being. It swirls in the cosmos and vibrates in the tiniest atomic particle in our bodies. Prana brings us to life, sustains us, and with our last expiration is absorbed back into the universal cosmic breath. When prana moves smoothly through us, we are in a state of peace. When prana is blocked, we experience disease: physical illness, anxiety, depression, confusion. Breathing through the nose conserves prana in the body. Breathing through the mouth disperses prana outside the body, decreasing immunity, physical and psychic energy, and concentration. Spiritually, prana is the golden cord that unites the soul with the body.
Pranayama, another Sanskrit word, means “expansion of the vital force.”6 It involves many different kinds of breathing that are particularly beneficial to the body and mind. It is important to breathe through the nose not the mouth when doing pranayama and meditation. The nose is designed to trap the smallest dust particles, tiny insects, and pathogens that can cause infection and disease. Breathing through the mouth prevents this protection. Yogis believe that breathing through the nose captures more prana, the power that keeps the organs and nervous system healthy.
Practicing a few cleansing breaths before meditation both invigorates and quiets soma and psyche. As you become comfortable with this process, you can experiment with different breath counts and discover what works for you. Eventually, the exhalation will lengthen. Inhalation is essential to life, but exhalation is the key to the building up of prana. When you exhale, stale air is expelled from your lungs, preparing the body to receive healing energy through the upcoming inhalation. Throughout this process, make sure you are at ease, never forcing or straining. After this sequence, allow your breathing to resume its natural rhythm.
Pranayama soothes all the organs and nerves in the body. It is particularly healing to the sympathetic nervous system, that part of the central nervous system that signals danger: the fight-or-flight syndrome. With regular practice, pranayama restores balance to the sympathetic nervous system, leading to feelings of peace and well-being.
Let’s begin the meditation. It takes a while for the breath to become rhythmic and steady. Notice the in and out breath as it moves through your nostrils. Focus your attention on the third eye. Each breath varies in quality. A breath can be halting, coarse, forced, racing, shallow, deep, uneven, fine. During meditation, be aware of the cool air coming through at the tip of your nostrils; on the out breath, notice the warm air exiting your nostrils. Watch your breath move, drawn in and out like the ocean tide. Each breath is a singular event that will never be repeated in the same way again.
Be as unjudgmental and open as you can. This is easy to say but difficult to do. Thoughts, feelings, internal and external body sensations, will come to distract you. Dreams, fantasies, nightmares, obsessions, childhood traumas, and reminiscences will demand your attention. Acknowledge them and gently return without judgment to observation of the breath. Don’t watch the clock.
Many experienced meditators offer the advice “Go deep.” This means releasing yourself to the spaciousness of a quieting mind. Remain open. Be a joyful innocent in a foreign land. When you are finished with your formal meditation, sit a little longer to integrate the experience and savor the stillness. Let it permeate you. If you don’t feel a calmness in the beginning, know that you have accomplished something great. Persist, with kindness toward yourself.
Chanting frees up the constrictions of thoughts that bind us to the cerebral mind. Raising our voices in chants carries us in a different direction on a sweeter wind. Chants vibrate in the head, throat, heart, and diaphragm, creating new possibilities. Chanting, we ask the spirit within us to take part in our practice. We invite the soul to make itself seen and known. The repetitive chanting of the Sanskrit word Aum (pronounced “om”), meaning “cosmic vibration,” the sound of the universe, loosens and slows cascading obsessive thoughts, errant fantasies, disruptive feelings, bodily discomforts. The “Aum of the Vedas became the sacred word Hum of the Tibetans, Amin of the Moslems, and Amen of the Egyptians, Greeks, Romans, Jews, and Christians.”7 Aum is the beginning without end, the continuous force that resonates in every corner and crevice of creation.
Depending on your spiritual perspective, you may discover that using a language like Latin, Greek, or Sanskrit can deepen your devotion. Some meditators find comfort intoning Kyrie Eleison (Lord have mercy). This ancient Greek supplication has been spoken and sung for many centuries as part of the Roman Catholic mass. There are soaring Sanskrit chants that calm the mind and awaken the heart. Some individuals find joy and a release from obsessive thoughts and negative emotions by intoning their own personal chants.
Don’t pay attention to how long or how deeply other people meditate. What matters is your process. Never feel inferior or inadequate because someone else is a “bliss bunny” and can automatically go into expanded states of consciousness at will. The crucial point is that you are making the effort to practice, even for a minute or half a minute.
Gradually, meditation becomes a habit, an integral part of your daily routine. Some people take to it like natural swimmers, baby ducklings paddling silently across a silky pond. They move smoothly into deep waters without trepidation. These individuals are the exception. Many of us feel in the beginning as if we are pushing an enormous boulder up a steep hill. Each day we return to the rock, place our hands there, and don’t feel the slightest movement. Sometimes there appears to be no progress whatsoever. But the rock is moving imperceptibly. When we scream “failure,” the ego is speaking. Making the effort to sit is an accomplishment. If you miss a day, don’t fall into self-recrimination. At the end of each session, take a few moments to meditate for those in need: physically, mentally, psychologically, spiritually. This activates healing in them and you. Subtly, you notice that if you skip a meditation, you are aware that something vital is missing. In your own time, you will look forward to the space that you have created for meditation. It will become an anchoring force in your spiritual journey.
Meditating with others provides extra encouragement to continue the practice. The energies in the group help to sustain concentration and focus. Joining longtime meditators, we feel ourselves swimming downstream against the tide of distraction. We are swept along in the synergy of our multiple endeavors, labors that become a singular attunement to the infinite.
Our narcissistic society is strongly fueled by the denial and gnashing of teeth associated with death. Death, the last taboo in Western culture, is a core focus of attention in Eastern spiritual practices in Tibet, India, Indonesia, Thailand, and elsewhere. People in these societies place death in the forefront of their minds throughout their lives, not out of morbid fascination but as a way of freeing themselves to live in the present. The Buddha spoke of using death to learn the most profound life lessons: “Just as the elephant’s footprint is the biggest footprint on the jungle floor, death is the greatest teacher….Yama Raja—the Lord of Death—is my teacher. Death drove me to seek the deathless, to seek liberation from the bonds of birth and death.”8 Here, the Buddha is speaking of the freedom from reincarnation, the cycle of birth, death, and rebirth, in which the soul is continually embodied until it is totally purified. Even if one does not believe in reincarnation, the regular contemplation of death is an invaluable practice. It desensitizes us from our conditioned image of its horror. With repeated contemplation, death becomes familiar, more of an acquaintance and less the ultimate bogeyman under the bed.
Death is a reminder that our days and hours on earth must be used to the fullest. By this, I don’t mean that we must rush through life—grabbing everything within our grasp. Death is a tremendous motivator to put ourselves in order on every level: physically, psychologically, and spiritually.
When we are caught up in the frenzied world drama that is running away with us, such as a situation at work that has become nasty and out of control with shrill histrionics, or a personal trap that engulfs us emotionally, it is beneficial to regularly give yourself what I call the Deathbed Test. It is the act of imagining yourself at a point near death, reviewing your life and asking yourself honestly what has and does matter at this moment through the lens of your entire existence. Will it add up to the amount of money that we accumulated in property, cash, stocks, trusts, gold, or mutual funds? Will it be that we took an inordinate amount of time and money to look ten or even twenty years younger as a result of plastic surgery and other cosmetic procedures? Will we count up the social and business value of our membership in a particular country club? Will it be the acquisition of fine paintings, magnificent jewelry, or couture clothing and shoes that we accumulated? Will it matter that our child “had” to attend Harvard or life was a failure if he didn’t achieve our goal? Will we be counting the number of times that we went around the world? Will we cheer that we won a power game over a professional colleague or enemy? Will we care that we had been cheated out of a large sum of money by a sociopath we had once trusted? Will all the human betrayals that we have endured matter?
What will and does survive are the essentials. Are we evolving from our insights and mistakes, even from the cruelties and deprivations perpetrated on us by our mothers and fathers? Are we forgiving ourselves for not being perfect? Are we becoming kinder and more compassionate, especially toward those who are temperamentally difficult and at times impossible? Are we more intimate with the gifts of Nature—her endless exquisite designs and bounty? Are we taking regular opportunities to listen to a bird sing his aria each day at our window at dawn and with fading evening light? Do we laugh and celebrate the frog’s midnight-to-dawn playful calls? Do we marvel at the spring greening of leaves pregnant with fullness? Do we celebrate the wind on our faces, making fanciful flags of our clothing? Are we transfixed by the unblinking eyes and sheer glory of innocent animals, wild and domestic? Are we bringing comfort to those who have lost everything, even their bodies and minds? Are we kissing and hugging and saying “I love you” to those we hold close and dear?
There are questions for those on a spiritual path: Are we performing consistent practices each day to make contact with God, the cosmic consciousness, a higher power? How sustained are our efforts to alleviate the suffering of others through our words, presence, listening, and actions. Meditation, prayer, and various forms of devotion prepare us during our lifetimes for death. When the swirling thoughts, emotions, and sensations are quieted and we learn to be serene and steadfast, we make contact with our real selves and with what some call cosmic consciousness. The attainment of this state of equanimity, dropped ego identification, and restful trust prepares us for the transition from living in the body to ascending out of the body at death.
Looking death directly in the face forces us to reorder our priorities. Many individuals who encounter life-threatening illnesses or accidents transform their lives as a result of their keen awareness of death. Making peace with death, they are now capable of living fully in the present.
We are constantly in the process of re-creating ourselves. Each action begins with a thought, a sensation, an urge. An intention is formed and an action follows. We all know people who seem to get away with everything. They deceive, threaten, exploit, abandon everyone in their lives: family, friends, lovers, business associates. They perpetrate unspeakable cruelties. Their chronic patterns of intimidation and betrayal become a way of life, as natural to them as the oxygen they breathe. They appear to adroitly skip away from any glimmer of reckoning. In truth, we don’t get away with anything in this life. We are held accountable for every behavior—great or small. This is karma. For every action, internal or external, there are positive or negative consequences. Lama Surya Das explains: “The law of karma spells out very meticulously that everything has its implications; every thought, word, and deed has an effect. We are responsible; the lever of our own destiny remains in our hands.”9
We are creating new karma every moment. All of our actions have a meaning and a purpose. Nothing is random or accidental. Every time we think, move, sense, or feel, we have an opportunity to create a different reality. We are born with free will, and we can choose how we will respond to all of our life circumstances. A tai chi master I knew explained to her classes on self-defense that in any given situation, even the most dangerous—pinned down by a menacing opponent and apparently helpless—you can use something to extricate yourself from the danger. There is a thought, a move, a reserve of strength, a nuance of rhythm. “There is always something you can do,” she emphasized.
Our state of mind, the quality of our awareness, moods, and feelings directly affect current and future personal experience. Have you watched a relative or friend become more self-absorbed, ruthless, and greedy? Often a classic narcissist, he acts without conscience or compassion. His volatility of mind and the actions that result directly impinge on his internal hell and the consequential pain that he inflicts on everyone within reach. This person is multiplying negative karma—cause and effect are operating. He is reaping the whirlwind he has sown.
We all create negative karma because of our lack of awareness or our decisions to act in a way that is irresponsible, negligent, or malevolent. The words of the Buddha speak as clearly now as when they were spoken many centuries ago: “If a king or householder shall die, his wealth, family, friends, and retinue cannot follow him. Wherever we go, wherever we remain, the results of our actions follow us.”10 Even if you don’t formally accept the ancient concept of karma, it is reasonable to believe that we must take responsibility for all of our actions and their consequences. Throughout our lives, moment by moment, we are accumulating the effects of positive and negative behaviors.
As we travel the spiritual road, it is essential that we dispense with our ego, piece by piece along the way until there are no crumbs left. When I first encountered this term, it seemed mystifying, even terrifying. Does this mean that I cease to exist? Do I lose myself and my entire identity if I drop my ego? Is dropping the ego a kind of death? In a sense it is…a welcome one. It is a relief to no longer carry such a heavy burden, the many masks of self. The Hindu Scriptures say: “When this ‘I’ shall die, then will I know who am I.”11
The ego is relentless in its ability to encircle and tighten itself around us like a deadly python. Letting go of the ego is achieved during a lifetime through a series of steps that include discipline, insight, and meditation. When the mind is quiet, even for a split second, we subtly encounter our real selves. As these moments are strung together, like an endless strand of gleaming pearls, we discover the truth about ourselves. The ego voice becomes muted, as if we are turning down the volume on a radio. Using the tools of discipline and will, we become less defensive, ashamed, angry, greedy, restless, frightened. The mind is honing in on a calmness and serenity that it has been longing for since birth. The intelligence behind all the obsessional thoughts reveals itself. In this heightened relaxed state there is no forcing, just an awareness of psychological and spiritual spaciousness.
As the ego recedes, the persona is freed from the imprisonment of false-self images and pretensions. The masks are removed and discarded. The individual experiences a powerful union with all living beings and creation itself. He understands that he is neither more important nor less significant than others. He is part of an unbroken chain of vibrant consciousness.
Nature teaches us that we are all part of a whole. In recent times, the West has become starkly individualized. Today, people are separate from one another. The elderly are isolated, as if they had a pox that will kill others instantly on contact. The deformed, birth-damaged, inordinately obese, disfigured, only appear to be tolerated. There are many who won’t admit even to themselves that they don’t want to be around anyone who appears to be defective or imperfect in any way. The “imperfect ones” are a source of embarrassment, victims of subtle scorn and covert discrimination. When we feel uncomfortable or even hostile toward those we view as very different and therefore unacceptable or even repellant, it is often a negative projection of how we feel about ourselves. Unconscious self-loathing reveals itself in every mental and physical act in which we are engaged. Self-hatred is a toxic waste that both destroys its host and poisons the immediate environment. When we are overflowing with self-hatred, it cannot help but spill and spew upon those around us.
Individuals who remain in life’s shallow waters always insist that their experiences have a pleasant, smooth quality, an easy flow. They want to “keep it light.” They bask in the company of people like themselves, who are attractive, bright, articulate, and successful. Within the swirl of these tight social circles, there is an illusion of creating a separate world, a false reality that clings to surface matters. These narrow vistas can feel safe and at times giddily exclusive. Eventually, they constrict and suffocate our personal growth. This contrived environment is like a stagnant pond, without oxygen or nutrients, and is destined for extinction.
When we observe Nature closely, we are immediately aware of its exquisite beauty and connectedness. All of Nature is interdependent. The resplendent, indomitable hummingbird, weighing between .09 and .14 ounces, which appears to defy the laws of gravity, comes into the garden just at the right seasonal moment, when special bushes attract him with vibrant hues of red, pink, blue, orange, yellow, and lavender. Their names are familiar, nostalgic, musical: foxglove, hollyhock, coral bell, honeysuckle, hibiscus, bougainvillea, columbine, dahlia, delphinium, larkspur, tiger lily, Indian paintbrush.
The hummer knows just when each bush, flower, and tree has begun to bloom. Flapping his wings fifty times a second, with impeccable form he hovers like a miniature helicopter, placing his tapered bill into each delicate blossom. He systematically moves from one flower to the next, penetrating each one, not missing the tiniest bloom. During his voracious feeding, the hummingbird accumulates pollen on his body that causes adjacent flowers to proliferate. Naturalists tell us that there are specific flowers that are designed to allow the hummingbird to thrive. The minuscule light-as-a-feather hummer will, in his lifetime, be responsible for creating profusions of flowers.
The hummingbird is a symbol of Nature overcoming impossible obstacles. These tiny marvels migrate l,800 miles from the northeastern United States to Central America. They travel 600 miles across the Gulf of Mexico without stopping to rest. The hummingbird inspires all of us with his iridescent beauty and the soaring, unwavering, joyful way he shares his life with us.
In humans, as in all of Nature, there are no boundaries: skin to skin, breath to breath, smile to smile, tear to tear, eye to eye, we are one. We are sky and sea, meeting with seamless beauty. As the sun melts below the horizon, mystical hues rise and fall into one another: tangerine, alizarin crimson, lavender, violet, indigo, midnight blue. Sky and sea rest in each other’s arms.
Whatever pathway you take beyond narcissism, it is your process. Dogma, rules, prohibitions, intimidations, or authorities cannot tell you which direction or how far or deep you need to travel to reach your true self. The journey has neither beginning nor end. The path can be smooth or rocky, desert or swamp. Winds blow the sands, making it impossible to see; the snow is hip deep; bone-breaking ice awaits your heavy fall. At a sudden clearing, the sky bursts eternal blue, horizon to horizon. For a long moment you see things as they really are, without delusion. There are others who have traveled centuries before you and those who are on their way now. Great teachers, prophets, and holy men like Jesus and Buddha resonate within us through their words and the evidence of their lives.
If you decide to take this journey, tune into your intuition. Persevere no matter how difficult, discouraging, or exasperating it becomes. At way stations you will discover those who are also trekking the path. They will quench your thirst with their kindness and encouragement, offer insights that inspire you to take the next step.
Follow the beam of light that stands before you. In many Eastern spiritual disciplines the invitation beckons to close your eyes, gaze at the point between your eyebrows (the third eye), and surrender to the true reality beneath the chatter, mental gymnastics, emotional uproars, obsessive thoughts, regrets, and hurts you are holding. Allow them to dissolve through an open heart and a will determined to achieve a higher consciousness. Here, the clear light of intuition is the brightest star in your sky. The earth’s winds quiet, the senses still, the past is washed clean, the ego fades, an unexpected peace begins to dawn. Now you are home.
Feel your soul dance in the eyes of the infant,
Creating new worlds—spinning sparkling, transcendent.