EGO

This post is based on an e-mail from my niece regarding a post in the DAILY OM by Madison Taylor

DAILY OM: 

The Ego By: Madison Taylor (www.dailyom.com) The ego is simply a way for us to understand and attend to ourselves, at the same time as we understand and attend to the world around us. In most spiritual circles, the ego gets a pretty bad rap. The reason for this is that the ego, to some extent, is the principle in our psyches that separates us from one another, while the spirit is the principle that shows us that no such separation exists. Sometimes the ego is depicted as an almost demonic figure that keeps us from realizing our true nature. But at its most basic, the ego is simply a tool that helps us organize the various aspects of our personality so that we can function in the world. In this sense, the ego is simply a way for us to understand and attend to ourselves at the same time as we understand and attend to the world around us. The ego is a tool that we use to navigate the world. Perhaps the problem is that the ego sometimes gets out of control. This happens when the higher self loses control of the psyche. The psyche then falls under the leadership of the ego, an entity that was never meant to lead. The ego is meant to be definitively in the service of the higher self. When this relationship is functioning, the ego is a useful intermediary representing the whole self but not thinking that it is the whole self. Then, it is almost as if the ego is the self playfully pretending to be the separate entity called "I." Like an actor, the ego plays the roles that the world asks us to play in order to be part of the program. In this way, the ego can be a tool enabling us to be in the world but not of it. As long as we are in touch with our higher selves, our egos are not a threat. They are simply useful tools in the service of spirit. We keep our egos in check when we continually nurture our awareness of who we really are. Then our egos are free to serve without trying ineffectually to rule. It is healthy to have ego, but like all things in life, ego functions best when it is in balance and harmony with your whole self.

EMAIL:

This is so NOT how I was taught in school (behaviorist theories) or in real life.  Even my therapist preaches that our biggest problems are not caused by external factors but from our own attitude, selfishness, and self-absorption.  Do you ever feel overwhelmed by it all?  

MY REPLY

I find the whole understanding of EGO and its purpose/function confusing. 

I believe EGO, based on your comments, is the way we deal with those “external factors” which affect “our own attitude, selfishness, and self-absorption which in fact we ARE controlling.

The EGO is what defines the “self” or “I” which is based on what others think of us, how they respond to us, and what they tell us. This is not necessarily the truth but our interpretation of the truth? Does this make sense?

When our "truths" are challenged, the EGO fights to hold on to them. Change is hard and the EGO is a way to protect us from having to change?

Buddhism talks about “emptiness” which is in effect who we are BEFORE we make all these judgments (thus spirit?) based on probably false data from society, parents, relatives, educators, religious figures, friends, etc. 

I have talked before about the need for triage, as adults, to sort out those things we were told and came to believe as children (when we were powerless or even realized that we potentially had the power to disagree and form our own opinions.) 

The triage consists of looking at the various believes of self and keeping, tossing, or needing to do more thinking about those aspects. Most adults do not do this or even realize that they can. They carry all this baggage and just accept it as TRUTH when in fact it is not.

The key to being a mature, actualized adult (at peace with themselves) depends on this ability to triage

Conversations from Beyond

I have made the title titillating on purpose. My philosophy is that if I want to believe these are conversations I have with Gregory from wherever he may be, then they are. There is no reason really to analyze them too closely. I just accept them.

When my mom died in 2010, I would think of her often and get sad. Then I decided to turn it around and when I thought of her, I decided it was her "spirit" or what ever you want to call it, saying, "Hi! I love you!" Then when I thought of her, it cheered me up.

I have written about other conversations I have had with Gregory, but now, whether you believe in such possibilities or not, I will document more of them as they happen.

I am writing this from Fort Worth, Texas where I am visiting my family; sister and brother-in-law and kids and their spouses and their kids.

In the car, maybe remembering when Gregory and I would visit here together, I thought of him and felt an overwhelming of joy. "I am glad you are here with me," I said.

"I wouldn't have it any other way!" he replied.

"Not that I don't appreciate it, but how can you be with me so often when you have your own things to do on the other side? It seems like every day you’re there for me."

You can’t perceive what a complex being I have become, so don’t worry about me. I'll always be there for you."

Beyond the Grave

I chose the title of this post with tongue in cheek. But read on and you will see.

Gregory's remains live in his Grandma Carrie's antique sewing box on the bookcase shelf in my bedroom, on the side of the bed which is Gregory's.

Periodically I rearrange the shelf, taking away some adding others. Currently, the shelf if much simpler with the box in the middle, the photograph of Gregory to the left, a photo collage of Gregory growing up to the right.

In front of each frame is a small wooden tray, one holding some of Gregory's favorite dark chocolate Godiva candy and the other holding three felted hearts and one red stone heart. A small flowering plant sits in a terra-cotta pot. A battery-run flickering candle serves a 24 hour vigil.

Two nights ago as I was dozing off, a crash woke me to sitting upright. I flicked on the light, knowing that a cat had gotten into trouble and sure enough, Emma has pushed the stone heart off Gregory's shelf onto the floor. I bawled her out saying, "Bad cat! You know better!" 

Then I laughed to myself saying, "If Gregory's spirit had pushed the heart onto the floor I wouldn't have been so angry, would I have? I imagine that a soul in the spirit world would have to exert a really large amount of energy to move something in this world so I discounted Gregory's involvement and credited Emma.

Last night, as I was once more dozing off, a crash woke me again to the upright position. I flicked on the light, jumped out of bed and crossed over to Gregory's shelf. Sure enough one of the wooden trays with its felted hearts had crashed to the floor. And there sat Emma looking guilty. Again "Bad cat! You know better!" Again I laughed at wondering if maybe Gregory had pushed the tray to the floor.

Let me add a caveat. Gigi is the pusher, not Emma. But Gigi respects Gregory's shelf and while she visits it almost every night before bedtime, she never pushes or plays with anything on the shelf. She might smell it, or look very closely at it, but never pushes or plays. And Emma generally is not known for her "pushing."

So it occurred to me, that while it would take a great amount of spirit energy to push something to the floor in this world, how much energy would it take for Gregory's spirit to convince Emma that she should push the heart, then push the tray, then sit there innocently? So maybe Gregory's spirit was involved after all!

Did You Have A Good Day?

Last night as I was going to sleep, I turned towards Gregory's remains in Grandma Carries Sewing Box and wished him a Good Night. I next offered, "Hope you had a good day."

This comment caused my next thought and a string of wonderings. When you are in the spirit plane do you have days and nights? Are you aware of time and its passage. Isn't every day a good day. Or at least different?

What is it like to not have a physical body about which to think, or worry, or dress, or shave, or take a dump? Does the spirit sit in a chair, or lie down, or just hover in the air. Or are you just part of the air?

Without the need to eat do you get hungry? Do you think about your favorite foods or yearn to once more taste? Do you yearn to hug and kiss me as much as I yearn to hug and kiss you?

Perhaps a way to look at it is: You are me and I am you, at least on your plane. I can only imagine. So if I am good to myself, if I enjoy and had a good day, if I laugh or enjoy a favorite hot dog; is that good enough for you?

If I am being good to myself, am I then being good to you and are we laughing together and enjoying the extra onions, easy on the mustard, holding each other in a loving embrace?

As my Intuitive America Martinez told me, Gregory, you and I are still breathing the same air, seeing the same things, feeling the same feelings but in your case only with love. You have no need to worry so perhaps I do not either?

Carrying on a non-physical relationship with an entity who is no longer of the earth is not easy but I still need to hold on to you and always will, Gregory my love, and personify you and imagine you and carry you with me in my soul, my mind, my heart.

Love never ends if it is true.

Flying Free

When Gregory was at Lieberman, I remember being at the Botanic Garden and crying. During good weather I go to the garden at least every other month, have lunch in the cafe, and visit my favorite areas of the park.

This activity was one of the things Gregory and I did together often and we both enjoyed being outdoors, nature, flowers, paths, trees, and conversation. One time we were caught in the rain without an umbrella, so we sat on a bench under a clump of low evergreen trees. It was not lightening so we felt safe and there were taller trees over us, but further away, so we felt safer.

On my visits alone, after lunch, I would seek a private corner of the rose garden, or the waterfall, or the Japanese Island and cry. At times like those I missed being with Gregory so much and the pain expressed itself.

I yearned to share again with him and grieved his inability to see what I was seeing, to be able to be out in this glorious environment which he loved so much. I fantasized about the impossible task of loading him into the car, getting him into a wheelchair at the garden, and sharing the wonder with him once again.

I grieved the so many things he could no longer, and would never be able to do again. Not only being out in nature at the Botanic Garden but also vacations, epicurean meals out, walks in quiet neighborhoods, museum visits, seeing a movie, the opera, riding his favorite: a ferris wheel, the larger and the higher the better!

Now that he is gone, dead, on the Spirit plane; last night drifting off to sleep, which is when I do my best thinking, I realized that my take on this has changed. Often I have grieved Gregory's not being able to do so many things but now none of this matters.

Gregory no longer needs to do things, to experience things, to enjoy things ... he IS these things. Gregory is everything and everywhere. He is the wind, the rain, the sun, the flowers, the trees, the benches under which one can sit during a rain storm without worrying about lightening.

Gregory now shares everything I do without any effort, without needing an invitation since so much of his spirit is present in me, in my thoughts, in my love. As I was walking down the path to the Miniature Evergreen Garden, still mostly covered in snow, I commented aloud, "Beautiful, isn't it?"

The answer was silent but it was immediate, "Yes, beautiful!"

From Breakfast with Buddha by Roland Merullo.

What if the secret architecture of it all was just as Rinpoche claimed: some cosmic unit there beyond our false identification with the individual body? a love beyond imagining that hid in the molecules of a trillion shapes, causing hearts to beat and rivers to run and lovers to find each other? What if the plain old Protestants had it partly right -- that you could have direct access to that breath and pulse of love without the official intervention of the church fathers? More than that, what if, throughout history, there had been people -- grand spirits in human form -- sent to show us the rout out of this mess, a way to embody that love , or merge with it, rather than simply touching it once in a while, with a handful of close should, in our best moments? What if earth was just a violent stopping place on the highway to some saner, sweeter home, and there were teachers who saw that and had come to help us on the journey? And if there really were such people, what would be the consequence of ignoring them?