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Previously I wrote about the many layers of the Self as explained in nondual Tantrik philosophy. Each of these layers – your body, your mind and feelings, your energy, your awareness, etc. – is considered an expression of the oneness that is the real You. When we find ourselves wrapped up in just one layer – struggling with a body issue, for instance, or carried away by obsessive thinking – we forget that we’re all of this, more than the mind is capable of grasping. When we lose sight of our vastness, we experience a loss of freedom. Instead, we’re at the mercy of a body which will inevitably age, or at the mercy of a mind which will inevitably fail to see the big picture.
As I explained in that article, the mind/feelings layer is the most common for people to get stuck in. It’s hard not to have your attention monopolized by a machine that generates so much drama, such strong sensations, that has so many facts and answers, that helps you navigate life as a human, and that keeps score on how you’re doing. But your mind is just a tiny fraction of all that you are. This is why mental discipline is important not just for things like martial arts and meditation, but also for reaching your potential in any arena – from sports to finance to scientific research – and for being as happy, peaceful, and free as possible. The scientist Michael Faraday said in an 1854 lecture, “That point of self-education which consists in teaching the mind to resist its desires and inclinations until they are proved to be right, is the most important of all.”
The alternative is what I referred to as “bondage” in last week’s article. Your mind takes the driver’s seat and steers you to distraction and negativity, or just toward pursuits that aren’t really aligned with what your highest self wants. My friend Andy Dooley, who teaches people to be happy, calls this cycle “lousy and lazy thinking.” Lousy because of its disempowering nature, and lazy because of our tendency to let it take over – often without even noticing – rather than doing the work to heal and clean house.
Some years ago, I found myself in a period of chronic anxiety. I had at my disposal a wide range of herbs, supplements, and pharmaceuticals, most of them designed to do the same thing – tranquilize the mind. Although they made me feel sleepy and cloudy, these substances never fundamentally changed the anxiety, and often, they actually made it worse. To my surprise, some of the worst experiences occurred with herbs. Eventually I realized these pills and teas were robbing me of my mental edge, which made mental discipline more difficult.
When I discontinued all the meds and committed myself to healing, I improved rapidly. Though, I must admit, whenever I felt normal for a while, I would get “lazy” again. I would assume that I didn’t need to keep an eye on my mind. And it would eventually sneak up on me with a relapse. I learned that it needed to be a continuous practice, and when I added meditation and mindfulness to my regimen, it was much easier. It was a valuable experience, and it changed the way I treat patients with mental health issues.
During the process of relearning mental discipline, I remembered an earlier time, in my 20s, when I felt horribly despondent after the end of an intense romantic relationship. In the midst of despair, a fleeting thought visited me. It seemed almost as if it didn't come from my own mind – as if it was inserted into my stream of consciousness from a more intelligent Me that was removed from the emotional intensity of the situation. The thought was, “You’re faking it.”
Being swept up as I was in the tragedy of the breakup and enjoying the commiseration of my friends, a part of me felt indignant at the suggestion that I might be faking it. Faking it? Outrageous! Why would I be faking this? This is what humans DO when something like this happens. This is serious! Why would I choose to suffer?!
I can now advise in hindsight that anytime you find yourself mentally protesting and defending your point of view – particularly one that makes you feel bad – you’re standing on shaky ground. You’re not allowing the truth to come in because it would invalidate your story. Probably you have a lot invested in being right, which is often in direct opposition to being free.
Anyway, that one thought – you're faking it – burrowed into my consciousness and started to take hold. Novel thoughts arose: What if I were able to skip the whole grieving process? What if I could just be light about the whole thing? I would have to sacrifice all the sympathy I’ve been getting. I wouldn’t be able to tell the “woe is me” story anymore.
I discovered that there was a more enduring, more neutral, more authentic Me that didn't really feel terrible or dramatic, but just watched the whole thing impassively. Since then, in the midst of all sorts of other strong emotions, that disruptive thought has returned: You’re faking it. The real You is okay. What happens next is a matter of whether I apply the mental discipline to stick to the truth.
Try it. Even if you feel hopeless. Watch what’s happening in your mind and body. Don’t ignore any unpleasant thought or feeling. Turn your attention toward it rather than away. Learn what’s really there. Be curious. What is the actual thought behind the unpleasant feeling? Feel the feeling without resistance. Don’t deny it, reject it, or bury it. Welcome it. Experience it with your whole self. Let it open and spread over you. Breathe into it. Forgive yourself and anyone else who’s connected to what you’re feeling. And let it go. Then choose something else: Choose light. Choose to reclaim your power. Choose freedom. Choose to embody your expanded sense of self. Then keep choosing, keep forgiving, and keep letting go.
If you believe this is overly simplistic, just give it an earnest try. Sincerely commit to healing. I’m just talking about work. I’m sure you’ve done hard work before – whether in the form of cleaning, exercise, studying, or whatever you do for a living. Hard work isn’t bad. People generally don't like to work hard unless there's a payoff – something objective, like a clean house, a hot body, a gold medal, or a paycheck. In this case, there's not going to be an obvious carrot dangling in front of you, and what’s more, there’s really no end to it. You don't get weekends or your birthday off.
But once you experience the value of it, you will never want to take a break. And even though it's hard work, it does get easier (then it gets harder, and then easier again). And even though you will never want to let your mind get away with grabbing the steering wheel and driving you into illusion, over time you'll notice that your mind doesn't try to pull that crap nearly as often.
Good luck,
Dr. Peter Borten
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[post_content] => The other day, my 81-year-old neighbor told me that he was taking a shower when, over the sound of the rushing water, he suddenly heard a combination of yelping and snarling noises. He immediately knew what it was: coyotes attacking his little dog. He ran outside, scared the coyotes away, and started tending to his dog’s wounds. Then his wife came outside. “She tapped me on the shoulder and said, ‘Honey, you’re standing naked in the front yard.’ Oops! So I was!”
A few months ago we moved to a rural area. It’s the farthest I’ve ever lived from other people. While I looked forward to having more land to do things like raise chickens and grow our own food, I was also concerned that I would feel isolated and lonely. Then I met this gentleman. A few days after we moved in, he introduced himself with an armload of tomatoes and zucchini from his garden. He noticed that we hadn’t mowed our lawn yet, so a few hours later he returned on his tractor and mowed it for us. He’s a master gardener and woodworker, and offered unlimited horticultural advice and the use of his tools.
Many times I’ve said to myself, “What an absolute treasure.” The same goes for many of my other neighbors, most of whom are at least a generation older than me. I’m reminded of my earliest studies in psychology, when I was attracted to the developmental theory of Erik Erikson.
Erikson theorized that humans move through eight stages of psychosocial development. At each stage, he said, we are presented with a challenge or “crisis” between two conflicting qualities. One of these qualities supports our growth and evolution while the other thwarts it. If we choose to adopt the former, we develop a
virtue associated with that stage.
In the first stage (Oral-Sensory), roughly from birth to age two, all of our basic needs are met by our parents and other caregivers. We are utterly dependent on others, and we are faced with the crisis of Trust versus Mistrust, which Erikson characterized with the question, “Can I trust the world?” If our parents are consistent, kind, dependable, and loving, we are likely to develop trust in others and a fundamental trust in ourselves. This leads to the virtue of hope, which helps us navigate the upcoming stages. If not, we are likely to become mistrustful of the world – seeing it as undependable and unpredictable.
For the sake of space, I’m just going to give you the nutshell versions of the next handful – until we get to the elder years. The ages given for the following can vary somewhat.
• Stage 2. From ages 2 through 4, the crisis is between
autonomy versus
shame and
doubt. The existential question is, “Is it okay to be me?” And the virtue presented is
will.
• Stage 3. From ages 4 through 5, the crisis is between
initiative versus
guilt. The existential question is, “Is it okay for me to do, move, and act?” And the virtue presented is
purpose.
• Stage 4. From age 5 through 12, the crisis is between
industry versus
inferiority. The existential question is, “Can I make it in the world of people and things?” And the virtue presented is
competence.
• Stage 5. From ages 13 through 19, the crisis is between
identity versus
role confusion. The existential question is, “Who am I and what can I be?” And the virtue presented is
fidelity.
• Stage 6. From age 20 through 39, the crisis is between
intimacy versus
isolation. The existential question is, “Can I love?” And the virtue presented is
love.
Now we come to the age ranges of my amazing neighbors. From age 40 through 64, the crisis is between
generativity versus
stagnation. The existential question is, “Can I make my life count?” The virtue presented is
care. Erikson felt that during middle adulthood, the main task is to contribute to society and help guide and support future generations. Embracing this mantle makes us
generative whereas a self-centered life leads to
stagnation.
From age 65 to death, we face the crisis of
integrity versus
despair. The existential question is, “Is it okay to have been me?” As we become less productive and perhaps feel less useful to society, it’s possible to slip into despair, especially if we look back at our life through a lens of negativity, regret, or criticism. Alternatively, if we’re able to look back at the goodness we’ve enjoyed and shared, the ways we have served and accomplished, we experience
integrity and the virtue of
wisdom emerges.
Several years ago, as I witnessed the decline of some older patients who became bitter and sad, I began to recognize one of the primary fears of the elderly: to have nothing that the rest of the world values – being useless, wrinkled, irrelevant, confused, and a burden on others. And I thought, “What a horrible way to end life.”
But as I enjoy the company of my new neighbors, feeling anything but isolated, grateful to have healthy
elders as friends, I know such a course isn’t inevitable. These folks have clearly chosen
generativity and
integrity. They share their wisdom and worth with the world. And I believe they would continue to do so even if they were disabled and unable to help out, because it’s a state of mind, really. It’s inspiring and encouraging to know that such choices are available to me as I age, and that such individuals are available to help us navigate the way.
What has your experience of elderhood been? Are you an elder? What are your struggles and triumphs? Share your wisdom with our community!
Be well,
Dr. Peter Borten
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The other night at dinner, my older daughter was complaining that she had injured her wrist at her aerial silks class and it hurt to hold a fork. I leaned over and asked her to show it to me. I felt around her wrist and hand a little and then went to a point near her elbow and asked her if it was tender. “Ow!” she replied. I asked her if it changed the pain in her wrist. “Yes! That makes it better!” she exclaimed. I held that point for about 45 seconds and then let go. The pain was gone and didn’t come back.
Another time I’ll never forget, I was helping a friend with knee pain. It happened to be localized on the gallbladder acupuncture meridian. Among other things, the gallbladder is associated in Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) with decision making. As I unwrapped some needles I asked offhandedly, “Is there some big decision you’re feeling stuck about?”
“Yes!” he answered. “I can’t decide whether or not to stay in the band I’ve been drumming for. They’re all young guys, partying hard every night, and that’s just not my scene at this time in my life. But I think they’ll hate me if I quit.” While I thought about how to respond, he closed his eyes and then let out a big sigh. “It’s gone,” he said.
“What’s gone?” I asked.
“My knee pain. It’s not there anymore.” He bent and straightened his leg a few times.
I came over and felt it. “What? How did that happen?”
“I decided to quit the band,” he smiled. “They’ll get over it.” And just like that, his knee opened up.
Dozens of times I’ve helped friends and clients reduce their pain to a zero using only breathing and visualization. Though I was trained in acupuncture, I’ve come to depend less and less on my needles over the years. It’s fortunate because I don’t always have needles with me and many people – especially my wife and kids – don’t like getting needles stuck in them. It’s forced me to get creative, and I’ve long since lost count of stories like these where someone’s pain quickly disappeared or was greatly reduced without drugs, surgery, or anything invasive.
These events aren’t evidence of some amazing gift I have; they’re a testament to our incredible potential to heal spontaneously and our ability to change how we experience pain. I used to spend way too long trying to teach this stuff to my patients in the clinic. A few years ago I decided it made more sense to just collect all the concepts and tools I use to clear pain into an online course called Live Pain Free.
I’ll be leading a FREE interactive webinar on Tuesday, July 21st to teach some of these techniques. I’m going to be explaining some basic and valuable lessons about pain that I believe everyone should know. You’ll be able to use them to manage pain for the rest of your life.
I think I’ve never been so glad to have these pain management techniques as the time I dropped the corner of a thick sheet of plywood on my bare pinky toe. I was at a lumber store, wearing flip flops (I know, bad choice of attire), carefully sliding the plywood off a high stack of wood. I didn’t realize how close the back edge was to slipping off the stack. When it dropped off the stack, it fell about five feet to land on my little toe. Sometimes you hear people say after a severe injury, “I think I was in shock. I didn’t even feel the pain.” I wish I could be so lucky.
Instead I felt – very clearly – what might have been the most exquisite pain of my life. I remember thinking, “Will I still have ten toes after this?” Luckily I had enough presence of mind to do something proactive. I grabbed my calf a few inches above my ankle and twisted the skin and underlying connective tissue on the same meridian (urinary bladder) as where the injury occurred. Instantaneously, the pain was reduced. I kept at it. A minute later there was almost no pain. After about three minutes my toe felt fine. I didn’t get to keep the toenail, but that was a small price. By the way, I teach this myofascial release technique in Live Pain Free. It’s something everyone should know.
I hope to see you at the webinar!
Be well,
Peter
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Previously I wrote about the many layers of the Self as explained in nondual Tantrik philosophy. Each of these layers – your body, your mind and feelings, your energy, your awareness, etc. – is considered an expression of the oneness that is the real You. When we find ourselves wrapped up in just one layer – struggling with a body issue, for instance, or carried away by obsessive thinking – we forget that we’re all of this, more than the mind is capable of grasping. When we lose sight of our vastness, we experience a loss of freedom. Instead, we’re at the mercy of a body which will inevitably age, or at the mercy of a mind which will inevitably fail to see the big picture.
As I explained in that article, the mind/feelings layer is the most common for people to get stuck in. It’s hard not to have your attention monopolized by a machine that generates so much drama, such strong sensations, that has so many facts and answers, that helps you navigate life as a human, and that keeps score on how you’re doing. But your mind is just a tiny fraction of all that you are. This is why mental discipline is important not just for things like martial arts and meditation, but also for reaching your potential in any arena – from sports to finance to scientific research – and for being as happy, peaceful, and free as possible. The scientist Michael Faraday said in an 1854 lecture, “That point of self-education which consists in teaching the mind to resist its desires and inclinations until they are proved to be right, is the most important of all.”
The alternative is what I referred to as “bondage” in last week’s article. Your mind takes the driver’s seat and steers you to distraction and negativity, or just toward pursuits that aren’t really aligned with what your highest self wants. My friend Andy Dooley, who teaches people to be happy, calls this cycle “lousy and lazy thinking.” Lousy because of its disempowering nature, and lazy because of our tendency to let it take over – often without even noticing – rather than doing the work to heal and clean house.
Some years ago, I found myself in a period of chronic anxiety. I had at my disposal a wide range of herbs, supplements, and pharmaceuticals, most of them designed to do the same thing – tranquilize the mind. Although they made me feel sleepy and cloudy, these substances never fundamentally changed the anxiety, and often, they actually made it worse. To my surprise, some of the worst experiences occurred with herbs. Eventually I realized these pills and teas were robbing me of my mental edge, which made mental discipline more difficult.
When I discontinued all the meds and committed myself to healing, I improved rapidly. Though, I must admit, whenever I felt normal for a while, I would get “lazy” again. I would assume that I didn’t need to keep an eye on my mind. And it would eventually sneak up on me with a relapse. I learned that it needed to be a continuous practice, and when I added meditation and mindfulness to my regimen, it was much easier. It was a valuable experience, and it changed the way I treat patients with mental health issues.
During the process of relearning mental discipline, I remembered an earlier time, in my 20s, when I felt horribly despondent after the end of an intense romantic relationship. In the midst of despair, a fleeting thought visited me. It seemed almost as if it didn't come from my own mind – as if it was inserted into my stream of consciousness from a more intelligent Me that was removed from the emotional intensity of the situation. The thought was, “You’re faking it.”
Being swept up as I was in the tragedy of the breakup and enjoying the commiseration of my friends, a part of me felt indignant at the suggestion that I might be faking it. Faking it? Outrageous! Why would I be faking this? This is what humans DO when something like this happens. This is serious! Why would I choose to suffer?!
I can now advise in hindsight that anytime you find yourself mentally protesting and defending your point of view – particularly one that makes you feel bad – you’re standing on shaky ground. You’re not allowing the truth to come in because it would invalidate your story. Probably you have a lot invested in being right, which is often in direct opposition to being free.
Anyway, that one thought – you're faking it – burrowed into my consciousness and started to take hold. Novel thoughts arose: What if I were able to skip the whole grieving process? What if I could just be light about the whole thing? I would have to sacrifice all the sympathy I’ve been getting. I wouldn’t be able to tell the “woe is me” story anymore.
I discovered that there was a more enduring, more neutral, more authentic Me that didn't really feel terrible or dramatic, but just watched the whole thing impassively. Since then, in the midst of all sorts of other strong emotions, that disruptive thought has returned: You’re faking it. The real You is okay. What happens next is a matter of whether I apply the mental discipline to stick to the truth.
Try it. Even if you feel hopeless. Watch what’s happening in your mind and body. Don’t ignore any unpleasant thought or feeling. Turn your attention toward it rather than away. Learn what’s really there. Be curious. What is the actual thought behind the unpleasant feeling? Feel the feeling without resistance. Don’t deny it, reject it, or bury it. Welcome it. Experience it with your whole self. Let it open and spread over you. Breathe into it. Forgive yourself and anyone else who’s connected to what you’re feeling. And let it go. Then choose something else: Choose light. Choose to reclaim your power. Choose freedom. Choose to embody your expanded sense of self. Then keep choosing, keep forgiving, and keep letting go.
If you believe this is overly simplistic, just give it an earnest try. Sincerely commit to healing. I’m just talking about work. I’m sure you’ve done hard work before – whether in the form of cleaning, exercise, studying, or whatever you do for a living. Hard work isn’t bad. People generally don't like to work hard unless there's a payoff – something objective, like a clean house, a hot body, a gold medal, or a paycheck. In this case, there's not going to be an obvious carrot dangling in front of you, and what’s more, there’s really no end to it. You don't get weekends or your birthday off.
But once you experience the value of it, you will never want to take a break. And even though it's hard work, it does get easier (then it gets harder, and then easier again). And even though you will never want to let your mind get away with grabbing the steering wheel and driving you into illusion, over time you'll notice that your mind doesn't try to pull that crap nearly as often.
Good luck,
Dr. Peter Borten
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[is_month] =>
[is_day] =>
[is_time] =>
[is_author] =>
[is_category] => 1
[is_tag] =>
[is_tax] =>
[is_search] =>
[is_feed] =>
[is_comment_feed] =>
[is_trackback] =>
[is_home] =>
[is_privacy_policy] =>
[is_404] =>
[is_embed] =>
[is_paged] =>
[is_admin] =>
[is_attachment] =>
[is_singular] =>
[is_robots] =>
[is_favicon] =>
[is_posts_page] =>
[is_post_type_archive] =>
[query_vars_hash:WP_Query:private] => 927928b665186584a50366a35e53b8bd
[query_vars_changed:WP_Query:private] =>
[thumbnails_cached] =>
[stopwords:WP_Query:private] =>
[compat_fields:WP_Query:private] => Array
(
[0] => query_vars_hash
[1] => query_vars_changed
)
[compat_methods:WP_Query:private] => Array
(
[0] => init_query_flags
[1] => parse_tax_query
)
)
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