The greatest discovery of my generation is that human beings can alter their lives by altering their attitudes.
—WILLIAM JAMES
Aligning with your true self will bring a new level of authenticity to your life. But this is easier said than done. The reality is that every one of us must work to balance competing elements inside us.
We are complex creatures with many faculties: logic, instinct, emotion, and intuition, to name just a few. Where these different faculties reside in the brain and body has been a topic of great research and debate for centuries. In the fourth century BC, Aristotle considered the brain to be a secondary organ that served as a cooling agent for the heart and a place in which spirit circulated freely.1 Toward the end of the sixteenth century, philosopher René Descartes believed the pineal gland, a small gland in the center of the brain, was the seat of the soul.2
In the 1960s, physician and neuroscientist Paul MacLean proposed a three-part model of the brain that emerged in the course of evolution to house many of our faculties: a reptilian brain in charge of survival functions, a limbic brain in charge of emotions, and a neocortex in charge of abstract, rational thinking. Although oversimplified, this model has nevertheless proved interesting and useful.3 But one of the things this model does not address is something deeper that supersedes our logic, emotion, and instinct and connects us to our true self: our intuition. With advances in science and technology, our theories of where certain human faculties are housed in the brain are constantly evolving.
More than a century ago, William James, one of the founding fathers of modern psychology, identified two primary modes of thinking: associations and true reasoning. We can think of them as instincts versus logic, or as snap judgments versus analyses. Instincts or snap judgments are lightning fast, effortless, and mostly unconscious. This mode of thinking operates when you know something without really knowing why. Logic or analytical thinking is more of a process we use to reason things out, like solving a math problem or writing an essay. These processes are slower, more deliberate, and very conscious.
In Thinking, Fast and Slow, Daniel Kahneman, an experimental psychologist who was awarded the Nobel Prize in economics in 2002, describes the cognitive errors we often make, believing we are using logic (the deliberate, slow-thinking, analystical system) whereas in fact we are using instinct (the fast, emotionally laden, ingrained system). In other words, we often act on instinct, then come up with ways to justify it to our logical, rational minds.4
At its best, this gives us a built-in system of checks and balances. But it doesn’t solve the deeper problem of when to trust instinct and when to go with what seems more rational. There is pressure in both directions. “My gut’s telling me to go for it!” we say to ourselves. “Does that make any sense?” and then we think it through. If both our instinct and our logic agree, we’re free to act. At its worst, this system gives us heightened powers of self-deception. When people say, “You’re just rationalizing!” it may mean that we’re trying to pretend we acted logically, when in fact we acted on impulse.
Remember how my patient Beatrice said no to Pavlos, the handsome Greek entrepreneur in chapter 1, even when she desperately wanted to say yes? It can be argued that she was using logic to rationalize her instincts. When I asked her why she said no, she gave me three very sensible-sounding rationalizations:
Rationalization #1:
She really liked this guy and wanted to take it slow.
(That makes perfect sense, right? Who could fault her for that?)
Rationalization #2:
She had a presentation the next day and needed to rest.
(Even more sensible! Not to mention, responsible. How could that be wrong?)
Rationalization #3:
She was being swept away by a passionate delusion of connection with a man who didn’t even really know her.
(What good could possibly come of that? Logically speaking, this is not how healthy relationships begin.)
These rationalizations sound sensible, logical, responsible, and certainly reasonable. Moreover, if Beatrice were your daughter, your friend, or your patient, you probably would have told her that she did the right thing. Why then was Beatrice regretting her decision years later?
Despite it being perfectly rational and reasonable to turn down Pavlos, Beatrice knew in her gut that to say yes was not merely impulsive, and the rationalizations she gave herself for saying no made no sense at all. She hadn’t known Pavlos long, but her instincts and her deepest feelings were both telling her that she really liked this man. She was divorced, alone at a business convention for three days, looking for the right partner at this particular point in her life, when Pavlos came along. In the short time they spent together (several hours of talking that evening), she learned that Pavlos was divorced as well and looking to find the right partner. In essence, the above three rationalizations were just stories Beatrice constructed afterward in an effort to relieve her regret and explain to herself why she said no to this man she really liked. So why did Beatrice really say no?
If anything feels inauthentic in retrospect and fills you with regret, there is one primary culprit: fear. It is an emotional response that has evolved to ensure our safety. In the modern world, we no longer need to escape from saber-toothed tigers, but we face other dangers. If we stand too near the edge of a precipice or find ourselves in a dangerous part of town, we rightly feel afraid. Anytime we venture into the unknown, we feel fear, whether it is because a loved one has been diagnosed with a disease or because we have voluntarily agreed to go base jumping and have lost our nerve.
More often the stakes are emotional, but the consequences can have far-reaching effects. When a man takes the risk of confessing his romantic feelings to a close friend, it can cost him an important friendship. If an employee reports the unscrupulous actions of her manager, she may end up getting fired herself. Concerned parents, despite their best intentions, may lose contact with their adult child if they confront him about his drinking problem.
In all these cases, the danger is real. As if that weren’t enough, we can also be plagued by perceived dangers. When our fear is based only on perception, it is known as “stress” or “anxiety.”
As confident as Beatrice appeared on the outside when she spoke to Pavlos, she was filled with anxiety on the inside. She was afraid of how deeply she resonated with this man who appeared to have many of the qualities she was looking for in a partner. Rather than enjoying the prospect of being with a man who was offering her everything she dreamed of, obsessive thoughts filled her worried mind, taking her out of the present moment with Pavlos and into her own inner world of fear, anxiety, and neurosis. Unfortunately, this was a pattern Beatrice knew well. Pavlos was not the first “no” she had regretted long after the fact. For all the years Beatrice had been searching for love, she was also unconsciously pushing it away.
Sometimes what we most want can be the very thing that we fear most. For Beatrice, nothing created more fear and anxiety than the possibility of having her greatest desire fulfilled. Her instincts must have sensed this and immediately geared up for self-sabotage.
Even as she was gazing into Pavlos’s eyes, that familiar voice inside her head was worrying. What if he’s ‘the One’? But what if things don’t work out? Worse yet, what if things do work out?
Beatrice was afraid of having her heart broken if Pavlos didn’t feel the same way. Having been through one divorce already, she was also afraid of a repeat scenario: another painful breakup. Beatrice had only recently given up her people-pleasing ways in the service of living an authentic life. Another fear of hers was that falling in love would cause her to lose sight of her true self once again. In all these scenarios, Beatrice was being driven, first and foremost, by fear. But fear, by its very nature, is often an illusion. I like the mnemonic FEAR: False Evidence Appearing Real. The majority of what we most fear never comes to fruition.
What is even more painful than failure, abandonment, uncertainty, loss, and rejection is the fear of regret that comes with not having truly lived. This is precisely the role fear plays in our lives. It stops us in our tracks, makes us succumb to our internal demons, and keeps us from taking the risks necessary for living a full, authentic, courageous life.
As Dr. Lissa Rankin writes in her book The Fear Cure: “Courage is not about being fearless; it’s about letting fear transform you so you come into the right relationship with uncertainty, make peace with impermanence, and wake up to who you really are… [C]ourage stems from inner peace and it empowers you to live in alignment with your soul’s values.”5
But Beatrice didn’t know any of this at the time. She unwittingly let fear make her decision for her, then tried to rationalize it.
When we unwittingly act out of fear, it creates flawed thinking that leads to flawed actions. We see only what we want and expect to see, leading us to make snap judgments based on familiar patterns of the past and deliberately ignore evidence to the contrary. The result is what Kahneman kindly calls “cognitive illusions.”
These same instincts evolved to save us by making quick decisions. Too much uncertainty or doubt would stop us in our tracks when we needed to be picking up speed to escape those saber-toothed tigers!
With Pavlos, Beatrice’s fear-based instincts were right on track. They quickly and efficiently summed up the danger of the situation at hand. Here was a very handsome, intelligent, charismatic man. She felt a soul connection. He appeared to like her. He said he wanted to spend more time with her. One whiff of that and her instincts shouted: Run! Before it’s too late! Warning!!! Men like this have broken your heart in the past! Danger!!! Her heart raced. Her pupils dilated. Her breath quickened. She acted on instinct, succumbed to her fears and immediately said: “NO!” A deeper, reflective, slow-moving logic never had a chance to intervene until it was too late.
By letting fear-based instincts steal the show, Beatrice trapped herself in her own history, completely discounting the possibility that Pavlos could be different from all the other handsome, charismatic men she had previously met. What if, this time, they mutually liked each other and it actually worked out? As Dr. Kahneman says, our instincts, in their continual search for patterns, can make the same “pattern recognition” error and engage in the same repetition. Again and again and again.
My patient Slava, an attractive Russian electrician in his forties, had his own pattern in relationships. No matter how much he tried to do things differently with women, the same thing happened every time: he felt rejected.
Slava’s seductive charms were considerable. After a period of avid flirtation and romance, women would invariably fall for him. It was not until they started dating that things went wrong. Something would happen that upset Slava: one woman did not call him back quickly enough, another canceled plans at the last minute, and a third smiled too warmly at a passing stranger. The offenses were often innocent, but each one set off alarm bells in Slava.
When Slava was just five years old, his father abandoned him and his mother. It left a deep wound that never fully healed. Whenever he invested his hopes in someone he loved, he lived in fear that they would inevitably abandon and reject him as he felt his own father had.
Had he allowed himself to be vulnerable and confessed his sense of pain, fear, and rejection, or asked the women to explain their behavior, he might have made an authentic connection with them. But that early loss of his father had had such an impact that he saw the same experience everywhere, as if it were a truth about life. His deepest desire was for these women to prove him wrong. And when they failed, it was yet another devastating blow.
The cycle was so painful that Slava became hypersensitive. At the slightest sign of abandonment, Slava fell headlong into his accustomed rage—not over what they’d done, but over what he assumed it meant. It was nearly impossible for him to think that their actions were innocent; he was consumed by the righteous pain of a five-year-old boy abandoned forever by the father he loved.
No matter how true that abandonment had been in the past, it was not a truth about life. These women wanted to love him, but as long as Slava gave in to his unconscious, instinctual reaction, they couldn’t get near him. The way to break this habitual pattern was for Slava to consciously challenge the cognitive illusion. That meant not acting instinctively, but taking a deep breath to give the wisdom of his own logic time to kick in.
Thoughts are not facts. We can’t believe everything we think. When our logic is overwhelmed by the fear, pain, anxiety and anger churned up by our instincts, Tibetan Buddhist master Tsoknyi Rinpoche says we should acknowledge the feelings, then say to ourselves: “Real, but not true.”6
Acting on that realization, Slava might allow himself to consider other options: “Maybe this woman’s smile is an innocent sign of the very warmth I love in her—not a sign that she wishes she were with someone else” or “Is it possible that something really did come up that prevented her from calling sooner or made her cancel our plans?” In my patient Beatrice’s case with Pavlos, had she given herself time to think it through, she might’ve asked herself: “Do I really want to reject this man, or am I just repeating an old pattern that is no longer serving me?” Every time Slava found a new way to reenact his most painful childhood trauma or Beatrice met another handsome (potential) heartbreaker, their brains went on high alert.
The good news is, when we interrupt our habitual reactions and allow ourselves to see other options, we literally create new patterns in our brains to support us. Engaging in any intense activity over time changes the neural pathways in our brains. Learning any new habit or way of being affects the connections between the neurons. Research has shown that the growth of new neurons continues throughout our lifetimes in a process called neurogenesis, or the rebirth of the brain.7
As in the prior chapter, I invite you to do another stream-of-consciousness writing exercise. Set your stopwatch to five minutes and write without stopping on the topic What Stops Me from Living My Truth? The Questions for Reflection are included as mere guideposts. As with life, let your writing take you where it may.
1. If I allowed myself to fully live my truth, how would my life be different than it is now?
2. What are my most common rationalizations? What purpose do they serve in my life? How do these rationalizations keep me from living my life fully?
3. What am I really afraid of? When does my logic most often disagree with my instinctive reaction?
Now we know that continual exposure to positive thoughts and rewarding environments measurably enhances our ability to change and grow.8 Numerous studies have shown, for instance, that positive experiences in therapy alter the brain in constructive ways that can help people change their lives as well.9 By challenging our old ways of thinking, we can directly counteract the negative patterns we’ve built in the past.
Strange as it seems, it’s often easier for us to live in the familiar world of our fears than to leave ourselves open to the unknown of each moment as it occurs. The fear of the unknown is deeply buried in our reptilian brains. If we had not instinctively been afraid of wandering into deep, dark caves or slowing down with caution around blind corners, our species might well have been extinct long ago. But in our time, most of us have the luxury of overriding these old fears in comparative safety and freeing ourselves of their constraints. We no longer need to huddle in the sanctuary of our comfort zone.
As Susan Campbell, PhD, says in her book Getting Real, experiencing what is demands that we set aside our fears. This is the only way we can have a true, authentic connection with another human being. By releasing our fears, expectations, and wishes, we can truly embrace the here and now. This means relinquishing our beliefs about what should or should not be going on, what we expect, what we are prepared for, what we interpret, and what we judge as acceptable.
If we are reluctant to do this, then the connection we make is not with the person in front of us but with our own past: our fears, expectations, wishes, and projections. Staying in the world we know—no matter how painful and dangerous it is—gives us an illusion of control. Paradoxically, this illusion of control keeps us stuck in the same self-sabotaging patterns until we recognize what’s going on and are able to finally release our fears and make different choices.
Thanks to new technology, like the functional MRI, which shows activity of the brain in real time, we now have our first clue as to which efforts are the most effective in breaking off old reactions and restoring our brains to vibrant health. These studies prove that love, journaling, and meditation all enhance the health of our brains and help release us from the destructive patterns of the past.
• Love may stimulate brain health. The release of oxytocin, or “the love hormone,” stimulates the growth of neurons in the brain and may offset the effects of stress.10
• Journaling about trauma has physical benefits. After writing about traumatic experiences four days in a row, people showed fewer illnesses, better immune function at the cellular level, and a more positive mood.11
• Meditation improves regulation of pain. Using detached observation in meditation allowed patients to “uncouple” pain from an emotional reaction of alarm over ten weeks of regular practice.12
A loving, supportive environment combined with meditation and a means of self-expression (like journaling) can be ideal for healing the traumas of the past and finding a balance between logic and instinct. To get in touch with our most authentic selves, we can go even deeper and connect with our souls.
Many people are surprised to learn that Freud considered psychoanalysis to be “the science of the soul.” Unfortunately, his English translator minimized the spiritual implications when he translated the German word for “soul” (seele) as “mind” and the German word “spiritual” (seelische) as “mental.” So instead of reading about “the science of spirituality,” English-speaking people read Freud’s work on “the mental science.”13 It is time that we bring back the science of spirituality that Freud originally intended.
As my own personal journey has proven to me time and again, fulfillment entails connecting to your soul. One way to do this is by accessing your intuition. The word “intuition” comes from the Latin intuir, which means “knowledge from within.” It is a subjective mental experience that gives us information about the present moment by enabling us to tap into our true self. Intuition can provide us with the answers to the most important questions in our life. It is that inner voice that breaks through to show us the right way when we are about to make wrong decisions. Using our intuition allows us to access wisdom about our life that we may have been completely unaware we possessed. This knowledge can only be revealed by looking within.
It can sometimes be difficult to distinguish the inner voice of intuition from the inner voice of logic. The voice of the intuitive mind is calm, quiet, and peaceful. Its guidance is steady and unwavering. It operates in the service of our inner wisdom, rather than being dependent on moods, thoughts, or emotions. This inner voice is courageous, willing to do what is needed in a given situation, despite fear.
The voice of the logical mind is what we often refer to as “clear headed.” It evaluates situations and strives to resolve problems in the most effective ways possible. When emotions are swirling and the outside noise of other people’s opinions threatens our well-being, the logical mind carefully takes one step after another to get you safely to your destination.
It is nearly impossible to hear the voice of intuition in the everyday tumult of life’s demands. But a daily contemplative practice such as journaling and/or meditation, as through the exercises in this book, will allow you to hear this voice. Once you become aware of this voice, begin to pay attention to all aspects of it. Is it a loving voice or a harsh voice? Is it a caring voice or a controlling voice? Is it a compassionate and gentle voice or a harsh and punitive voice? Is the voice high or low in pitch? Soft or loud in volume? Masculine or feminine in tone?
This inner voice exists within each of us; it has always been there and is actually communicating with us all the time. Sometimes we hear it and sometimes we don’t, but it is never silent. Building a rapport with your inner voice can become an invaluable resource in your life. If you’ve ever had moments of doubt, or made decisions out of sync with your own best interests, you will find you inner voice especially helpful. Checking in with what you really think and feel about any situation can enable you to avoid mistakes and ensure that you’re living a more authentic life every day.
The first time I became aware of my inner voice, I realized that it was the voice of an angry male drill sergeant! This was the voice of my logical mind. It spoke to me in clear, concise language and directives. Perhaps I feared that if I were not so demanding of myself, I would shirk my responsibilities and not live up to my expectations of myself. So I unconsciously created a demanding, powerful, masculine inner voice to help me accomplish my goals and ambitions. My friends suggested that perhaps this masculine inner voice was the voice of my father. But my father is kind and gentle—anything but a drill sergeant.
Only later, by regularly checking in with myself and quieting my thoughts, did I discover the inner voice of my intuitive mind, which spoke much more softly—in images, hunches, gut feelings, intuitive flashes, or bodily sensations. It often emerged as I wrote in my journal, flowing as a stream of ideas emerging from a deeper awareness than my conscious mind. Whenever I began to feel this inner voice emerge, I would relax, listen, and receive its guidance.
Later I came to realize that my drill sergeant self was my own personal illusion of control. Although this aspect of myself may indeed have helped me to achieve some of my goals, it did so at the cost of alienating me from love and compassion for myself. Over time, I learned to soften the cadence of my inner voice and to address myself more softly and lovingly. I was able to do this only after I had made the conscious decision that I no longer needed my drill sergeant self in every aspect of my life.
Even today I have not let it go completely. Sometimes it still helps me get things done quickly and efficiently. But over time I have begun to soften my inner voice, realizing that a more intuitive, feminine approach does not compromise my ability to accomplish my goals and actualize my potential.
Fulfillment entails being able to balance our logic and intuition. Over time we can develop the ability to tell which one is appropriate in a given situation. Releasing the instinctual, fear-based patterns that no longer serve us enhances our tolerance for ambiguity and makes us more aware of the present. A tolerance for the uncertainties of life is critical for creativity, richness of experience, and freedom from fear-driven repetitive patterns.14
As you begin to build a connection with your inner voice, you will find that it enhances your life with love and compassion. By learning to let go of the illusion of control, we gain real control over the choices we make. Instead of allowing old, outdated assumptions to rule our lives, we can experience the freshness and vitality of every moment.
Start by putting aside as much time as you are able, perhaps ten minutes daily, then eventually build up to twenty minutes. One of the best opportunities to enter your inner sanctuary is in the early mornings, so you can check in with yourself before you begin the day. If the morning hours do not work for you, choose a time that is more appropriate for you.
The secret to finding the time for a daily check-in is to make it a priority. You will always find a time if it is your priority. In the words of novelist Anne Lamott, “Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes, including you.”15
Be warned: With any exercise that allows your intuitive mind to surface, your logical mind will make its presence known. It will remind you that you have no time for this. You have too much work to do. There is a to-do list waiting for you. Reassure your logical mind that you have set aside time for this and it will significantly improve the quality of your life. When you are ready, you can begin the exercise by following these steps:
1. Wash your hands and face (a metaphorical “cleansing” from your daily routine).
2. Sit in a comfortable position with your eyes closed.
3. Take a deep breath. Notice your even breathing rhythm, in and out.
4. Connect to your body, becoming aware of what sensations you currently feel.
5. Ask yourself, gently and lovingly, “How am I feeling right now?” Then let the answer come to you, slowly or quickly, as you continue to breathe and feel your body. Do one or more of these possibilities reflect how you feel? Happy, sad, bored, warm, fearful, uncomfortable, anxious, dubious, worried, pained, restless, confused, in love? If the answer does not come, take a few more deep breaths and ask yourself again, always gently and lovingly.
As you engage in this exercise, the answer may not come for the first few days, perhaps even weeks. As you slowly cultivate this daily practice, your inner voice will begin to break through and finally become heard.
Many believe that learning to hear one’s inner voice and cultivating one’s intuition is synonymous with connecting to one’s soul. But what exactly is this mysterious entity we call soul?
Since the beginning of time, human beings have been on a quest to understand this arcane and esoteric concept. In many cultures, religions, and philosophies, the soul is believed to be the transcendent or spiritual part of a human being. In Hinduism, the Sanskrit word most closely corresponding to soul is Atma, which can mean God, the higher self or universal consciousness. The Bahá’í Faith believes that “the soul is a sign of God, a heavenly gem whose reality the most learned of men hath failed to grasp, and whose mystery no mind, however acute, can ever hope to unravel”.16 Because there is no commonly agreed-upon definition of soul from a scientific standpoint, seeking to define and understand it is a challenge for us mentally driven humans.
According to shaman Fernando Broca, the soul is composed of two parts. The first part of the soul, known as the spirit, unites all of humanity together with the divine. The world spirit comes from the Latin word spiritus, which means “breath.” Our spirit, like our breath, unifies us with all of humanity. This is what people are speaking about when they say that we are all interconnected, or “one unified soul.”
The spirit is the essence, energy, and divine spark that corresponds to the highest form of what we are. It is the part of us that is pure, perfect, and divine. About the first part of the soul, Fernando says,
When I think of the soul, I think of something pure; completely luminescent and perfect. It cannot learn anything because it already knows everything. It cannot grow because it is already in its most evolved form. So the process of making your ego, your mind and your conscience recognize the soul is a process which in spirituality is called “the process of waking or enlightenment.” It is the recognition of the divine light within us.
Certain cultural traditions, including shamanism, believe that this part of our soul is the repository of wisdom, love, and experiences gleaned across many incarnations. Growth and transformation of our soul occurs over many lifetimes through the lessons we learn and choices we make.
In contrast, the second part of the soul is what defines our unique essence, otherwise known as the “self.” It is what differentiates us from every other human being on this planet and is the basis of our unique soul corrections (the main lessons we have come into this world to learn) and soul contribution potentials (what we will contribute to humanity over the course of our lifetime). In this way, the first part of our soul unites us with all of humanity and connects us to the divine, while the second part encapsulates our uniqueness.
According to Indian yogi and guru Paramahansa Yogananda, soul wisdom is revealed to human beings through the agency of intuition. Intuitive wisdom can be thought of as the direct perception of truth and appears naturally at those times when our mind is calm. Intuition is not developed by amassing knowledge through the intellect. All power of knowing borrows its ability from intuition. One goal of yoga and meditation is to calm the mind in order to allow yourself to sense the infallible counsel of the inner voice, and thereby connect to your soul. The highest expression of intuition is that by which the soul recognizes itself as a part of something greater: the knower, knowing, and known exist as one.17