Karen Horney focused a good deal of her psychdynamic theory on interpersonal motivations. She broke things down to three major motivations in relation to others--the movement away from (withdrawal), the movement against (aggression), and the movement towards (compliance). In Buddhism, the trinity is: aversion, attachment/grasping, and ignorance. In more modern, psychological terms, we focus a lot on the dance between approach and withdrawal where the more neutral space can be seen as immobility of some sort--either something along the lines of apathy or, alternately, equanimity.
I'm learning a lot from working with Shinzen. One of the central stages I've listed is Mindful Appreciation. To some extent, I've tried to delineate attentional techniques or practices that are supportive of the particular developmental qualities and opportunities at each stage. Some of the benefits of mindfulness practice include: sensory clarity that comes from experiencing (seeing, hearing, or feeling)"through" the permeability of perceptions and conceptions; increased equanimity; increased strength of concentration; greater chances of recognizing "openings" for gratitude or appreciation in our lives; and an increasingly consistent turn from emotional reactivity to being in touch with our own and others' genuine emotions. Different styles or types of mindfulness practice will have a greater influence on different benefits.
One of the most significant benefits that stands out is that we create a space or fulcrum from which we do not have to unquestioningly or unintentionally "go with" these semi-conscious or semi-intentional psychological movements that Horney mentioned. In other words, we can separate the initial impulse towards withdrawal, aggression, or compliance from the continuation of that impulse which turns impulse into a full-blown and self-sustaining process that we can describe as habitual reactions. We can feel and witness the impulse without allowing it to move us. This becomes a sort of "fourth" psychological movement option--remaining. Remaining with the initial impulse rather than running through a usual process. In Shinzen's phraseology, he describes equanimity as the ability to allow sensory experience to come and go without push (aversion) or pull (grasping).
Beyond the deeper, quicker, or more spiritual aspects of what mindfulness like this can lead to, it allows us to check the previously unquestioned unfolding of the processes by which we have come to know and create a limited sense of self. We could also call this self an "incomplete" self because this self--as primarily a collection of temperament and habits--does not primarily move from the ground of being or a sense of the simultaneity of abundance of/in the universe and ever-spontaneous vitality. Part of the development from Mindful Appreciation involves getting more in touch with the vitality through practicing nonidentification with habitual reactions. It is difficult or impossible to distinguish a sense of self from habitual reactions if we cannot see our habitual reactions and see them for what they are. Without bringing some clarity and equanimity to these reactions, we will tend to identify with those we like and attempt to suppress those we do not. That very movement (identify/suppress or grasping/aversion) feeds the ignorance, allowing that personal, neutral psychological space to remain as apathy or ignorance.
If we can "see through" the habitual psychological processing, we have the option of relating to the world around us through new ways, through unique or spontaneous responses that allow us to "feel" the vitality of each moment. That ends up being a decent description of the inspiration that can be seen as an intentional attentional practice corresponding to the following stage of Clarity. Inspiration can be described as moving from the moment of clear seeing into vitality, appreciation, or spontaneity (including "nurture positive" in Basic Mindfulness terms)--basically, a simple, positive jolt following the moment of equanimity. It looks like we can move from an understanding and experience of these brief sequential movements (or moments) into more consistently noticing this vitality and positivity as flow.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Secondary Traumatization
I finished my master's degree in counseling in 2006, five years ago. In that education, trauma was not addressed adequately and so, it's not surprising that secondary or vicarious trauma was not addressed well either. Secondary traumatization occurs when one works closely with trauma survivors. It's the stress and stress reactions that we pick up from dealing with traumatic experiences secondhand. A list of the signs and symptoms can be found on pages 3 and 4 here.
As the above linked article suggests, balance in one's own life, physical health and relaxation, and supportive social relationships are very valuable in dealing with secondary stress. But I'd also had the feeling for a long time that there must be some specific concentration/meditation technique that directly addressed the individual experience of this particular type of stress. Well, it's taken five years to find a fitting approach, process, or technique, but I believe I've found it (or, at least, one--since others might find that there are different techniques that work better for them).
In Shinzen Young's work, found on the web at Shinzen.org and basicmindfulness.org, there is a particular technique in his "Focus In" way of knowing yourself as a spiritual being. (This post gets a little technical, but it does not really get into anything too archaic. A familiarity with practicing meditation will help in grasping the value of the techniques listed--and the system overall--but part of what I like about this system is that it is accessible to beginning meditators.)
As one begins to develop the ability to pay attention to different streams of input into perceptions (Shinzen suggests working towards being able to "focus in" on mental talk, mental image, and emotional body-type sensations as three somewhat separate streams or foci), one becomes increasingly able to focus primarily on emotional body-type sensations. In my experience, this is the best place to work with secondary traumatization because of how our bodies carry the stress from traumatization that our thinking minds often want to ignore or turn away from.
As one focuses on emotional body-type sensations, it is possible to differentiate sensations that feel primarily physical (the weight of various body parts as one sits, the temperature in the room, maybe a slight breeze blowing across arm hair or one's face, etc.) and sensations that are both physical and emotional such as a tightness in one's stomach or shoulder muscles that is related to remembering working with trauma. At this point, it's good to realize that the physical body is not necessarily identified with, defined by, tied up in or tied down by, one's psyche. As we distinguish the difference between primarily physical sensations and emotion-laden physical sensations, it's easy enough to see that "I have a body but I am not my body". In other words, physical sensation alone does not define or describe us. ONce this is pretty clear, it is easy to feel a sense of not worrying about the physical body and being able to focus strongly on the emotional-physical sensations that sort of symbolize our experience of psyche, the sensations and feelings that let us know we are human.
If one sits in meditation for 30-60 minutes, simply noting feeling-sensations without trying to do anything other than notice them, one is likely to have moments when one is NOT noticing emotion-laden feeling sensations. We can look at those moments as "rest". (So, another way of approaching what I'm speaking about here is to begin with Shinzen's "way" of focusing on rest. In that case, the distinctions I've listed are still important.) This state of a restful psyche or emotion-body, which we primarily will tend to experience in relatively brief moments initially, alleviates a great deal of acute stress if we become aware of it. Shinzen described this focusing on rest in the emotion-body as "letting your humanity fall away". Speaking from experience, being able to take even a brief rest from one's tortured humanity (when it is so) does not change that one's job may be just as demanding and emotionally challenging the very next day, but it is so important to be able to find any rest. It can be the difference between feeling emotionally challenged and emotionally crippled by an intense profession.
One of the things I like about Shinzen's approach is that he focuses on mindfulness as improving one's ability to concentrate, clarity of senses, and equanimity. As one works on distinguishing different types of sensory phenomena, the exercise itself strengthens the power of one's concentration. Working with concentration in this manner--in distinguishing different input streams or foci--improves the sensory clarity. This is opposed to feeling muddled by incoming stimuli or under a "barrage" of stimuli. And by increasing concentration and clarity, if we include a reasonable understanding of ourselves and mindfulness itself, we improve equanimity along the way.
To the same extent that we improve the likelihood of making a jumpshot the more we practice our intention and ability to make jumpshots, we apply our increased concentration, clarity, and equanimity to familiarizing ourselves with a restful state when we practice resting awareness through intention and mindfulness techniques. THis increases the likelihood of feeling restful and extends the moments of being restful. I believe it was in one of Chogyam Trungpa's books where I read that the Tibetan for "meditation" is familiarization. Rather than having some ridiculously lofty or vague description of why to meditate or how to, we can simply say that it is worth familiarizing oneself with an emotionally restful state. For me, whether that can or needs to tie into anything more idealistic is secondary to the immediate beneficial effects. If couched within a larger framework, this technique can connect to broader meaning or applications but doesn't need to in order to be worthwhile. Thanks, Shinzen.
As the above linked article suggests, balance in one's own life, physical health and relaxation, and supportive social relationships are very valuable in dealing with secondary stress. But I'd also had the feeling for a long time that there must be some specific concentration/meditation technique that directly addressed the individual experience of this particular type of stress. Well, it's taken five years to find a fitting approach, process, or technique, but I believe I've found it (or, at least, one--since others might find that there are different techniques that work better for them).
In Shinzen Young's work, found on the web at Shinzen.org and basicmindfulness.org, there is a particular technique in his "Focus In" way of knowing yourself as a spiritual being. (This post gets a little technical, but it does not really get into anything too archaic. A familiarity with practicing meditation will help in grasping the value of the techniques listed--and the system overall--but part of what I like about this system is that it is accessible to beginning meditators.)
As one begins to develop the ability to pay attention to different streams of input into perceptions (Shinzen suggests working towards being able to "focus in" on mental talk, mental image, and emotional body-type sensations as three somewhat separate streams or foci), one becomes increasingly able to focus primarily on emotional body-type sensations. In my experience, this is the best place to work with secondary traumatization because of how our bodies carry the stress from traumatization that our thinking minds often want to ignore or turn away from.
As one focuses on emotional body-type sensations, it is possible to differentiate sensations that feel primarily physical (the weight of various body parts as one sits, the temperature in the room, maybe a slight breeze blowing across arm hair or one's face, etc.) and sensations that are both physical and emotional such as a tightness in one's stomach or shoulder muscles that is related to remembering working with trauma. At this point, it's good to realize that the physical body is not necessarily identified with, defined by, tied up in or tied down by, one's psyche. As we distinguish the difference between primarily physical sensations and emotion-laden physical sensations, it's easy enough to see that "I have a body but I am not my body". In other words, physical sensation alone does not define or describe us. ONce this is pretty clear, it is easy to feel a sense of not worrying about the physical body and being able to focus strongly on the emotional-physical sensations that sort of symbolize our experience of psyche, the sensations and feelings that let us know we are human.
If one sits in meditation for 30-60 minutes, simply noting feeling-sensations without trying to do anything other than notice them, one is likely to have moments when one is NOT noticing emotion-laden feeling sensations. We can look at those moments as "rest". (So, another way of approaching what I'm speaking about here is to begin with Shinzen's "way" of focusing on rest. In that case, the distinctions I've listed are still important.) This state of a restful psyche or emotion-body, which we primarily will tend to experience in relatively brief moments initially, alleviates a great deal of acute stress if we become aware of it. Shinzen described this focusing on rest in the emotion-body as "letting your humanity fall away". Speaking from experience, being able to take even a brief rest from one's tortured humanity (when it is so) does not change that one's job may be just as demanding and emotionally challenging the very next day, but it is so important to be able to find any rest. It can be the difference between feeling emotionally challenged and emotionally crippled by an intense profession.
One of the things I like about Shinzen's approach is that he focuses on mindfulness as improving one's ability to concentrate, clarity of senses, and equanimity. As one works on distinguishing different types of sensory phenomena, the exercise itself strengthens the power of one's concentration. Working with concentration in this manner--in distinguishing different input streams or foci--improves the sensory clarity. This is opposed to feeling muddled by incoming stimuli or under a "barrage" of stimuli. And by increasing concentration and clarity, if we include a reasonable understanding of ourselves and mindfulness itself, we improve equanimity along the way.
To the same extent that we improve the likelihood of making a jumpshot the more we practice our intention and ability to make jumpshots, we apply our increased concentration, clarity, and equanimity to familiarizing ourselves with a restful state when we practice resting awareness through intention and mindfulness techniques. THis increases the likelihood of feeling restful and extends the moments of being restful. I believe it was in one of Chogyam Trungpa's books where I read that the Tibetan for "meditation" is familiarization. Rather than having some ridiculously lofty or vague description of why to meditate or how to, we can simply say that it is worth familiarizing oneself with an emotionally restful state. For me, whether that can or needs to tie into anything more idealistic is secondary to the immediate beneficial effects. If couched within a larger framework, this technique can connect to broader meaning or applications but doesn't need to in order to be worthwhile. Thanks, Shinzen.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Differentiation in Vocational Fields
One of the accepted realities of those who see development, for the most part, as I do, is that there is a consistency in how we move from one major stage of development to the next. In general, we solidify a self-identity and personal experience at one stage, then we begin to differentiate from that stage as we become increasingly aware of the nxt. Following differentiation from one stage and what can look like a fanatical--or at least very focused emphasis on the one following--we reintegrate the earlier stage into our self-identity. A good analogy is when people change religions or move to a new country. You have to put a lot of energy into getting out of the old and into the new. It initially takes a lot of focus to sort of fit into the new place. Then, once you're somewhat settled, you really start to realize just how much of you was shaped by what came before. At that point, there is some chance of integrating history and the present situation.
I've also talked about how this process can be experienced as moving from impulse (the initial dissatisfaction with one's current situation or stage) to effort (the effort to change) to intention (like intentionally integrating the multiple stages or aspects) to grace.
Grace seems rare enough. As we shift our weight from effort to intention, we realize that we can't simply spend our whole lives struggling, and with that realization can come too much of a rejection of struggling. We need to struggle or commit whoeheartedly to necessary effort when it is necessary. But effort alone won't set us up--at least not in this economic environment--for longterm success and wellbeing. Now, if we actually make an attempt to shift our weight from intention to grace, it is possible to reject intention and the ability to hold onto one's intention too much. This may seem obvious in the meditators who want to simply, "Let be and let free."
While we have a reasonable number of role models who have moved from flat-out physical and emotional effort to a basically intentional and thoughtful sense of self-direction, we have fewer successful role models of grace. But there is a real value in "letting go" to a greater extent once one has mastered a general field or specific business. IF we can retain the willingness to put in effort when necessary, and IF we can maintain consistent intention while looking for something more, THEN it is worth relaxing one's focus to take in more of the environment. Taking in more of the environment allows for more flexible, more fitting changes as the environment changes.
Today, I am impressed with just how easy it is to drift away and forget or simply lean away from effort and intention in teh search for grace.
I've also talked about how this process can be experienced as moving from impulse (the initial dissatisfaction with one's current situation or stage) to effort (the effort to change) to intention (like intentionally integrating the multiple stages or aspects) to grace.
Grace seems rare enough. As we shift our weight from effort to intention, we realize that we can't simply spend our whole lives struggling, and with that realization can come too much of a rejection of struggling. We need to struggle or commit whoeheartedly to necessary effort when it is necessary. But effort alone won't set us up--at least not in this economic environment--for longterm success and wellbeing. Now, if we actually make an attempt to shift our weight from intention to grace, it is possible to reject intention and the ability to hold onto one's intention too much. This may seem obvious in the meditators who want to simply, "Let be and let free."
While we have a reasonable number of role models who have moved from flat-out physical and emotional effort to a basically intentional and thoughtful sense of self-direction, we have fewer successful role models of grace. But there is a real value in "letting go" to a greater extent once one has mastered a general field or specific business. IF we can retain the willingness to put in effort when necessary, and IF we can maintain consistent intention while looking for something more, THEN it is worth relaxing one's focus to take in more of the environment. Taking in more of the environment allows for more flexible, more fitting changes as the environment changes.
Today, I am impressed with just how easy it is to drift away and forget or simply lean away from effort and intention in teh search for grace.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Ego and Tranquility IV
For many people, then, the beginnings of realization begins in uneasiness, fear, and the judgment that the way they had been (largely unaware) was no good or at least not good enough. This makes spirituality or personal growth a trial, a difficult journey, or something along those lines. We end up with truisms like the idea that life begins at the edges of your comfort zone, as if a life of awareness begins in uneasiness. But this sort of understanding puts us in a living paradox like the ones Zeno loved to create. And we end up fighting our own egos or trailing uneasiness and dissatisfaction along with a cavalier sense of jumping into God-knows-what as what life is really all about. As if cliffdiving with your eyes open will keep you alive if you jump onto submerged rocks. A cavalier attitude with its attendant thrills and streamers of dissatisfaction may not be what clarity is about even though it is what some people decide that their lives are about.
Clarity has an effect on what that intermediate state, or clutch state, feels like. The belief in cliffdiving with eyes open definitely involves intention, but it may lack some degree of clarity if it includes the superstition that eyes being open rather than closed means you won't hit rocks. So there are many people out there preaching the value of intention, which is great, but very intentional people have set up oppressive empires, unethical corporations, and corrupt governments. Tranquil folks have improved their own lives by learning to develop a sense of serenity within themselves, often without influencing many others around them. No one of these influences is paramount. They come together in the same vehicle, though, if they are intentionally incorporated. If tranquility is practiced, we diminish the influence and the need for apathy. If clarity and awareness are developed, we diminish the influence and the need for being shocked into awareness.
An emphasis on clarity keeps us aware that things are changing. An emphasis on tranquility allows us to feel an ultimately undefined and indefinable sense of consistency. Ego, like using a pronoun to signify many things at different times and in different contexts, is a vehicle that is real enough to feel real yet empty enough to fit in all these influences. The interaction between immediate awareness of this moment, ego, and environment allows for the combination of continuity and change that sets us up for seeing the difference between random change and spastic actions as opposed to progress.
Clarity has an effect on what that intermediate state, or clutch state, feels like. The belief in cliffdiving with eyes open definitely involves intention, but it may lack some degree of clarity if it includes the superstition that eyes being open rather than closed means you won't hit rocks. So there are many people out there preaching the value of intention, which is great, but very intentional people have set up oppressive empires, unethical corporations, and corrupt governments. Tranquil folks have improved their own lives by learning to develop a sense of serenity within themselves, often without influencing many others around them. No one of these influences is paramount. They come together in the same vehicle, though, if they are intentionally incorporated. If tranquility is practiced, we diminish the influence and the need for apathy. If clarity and awareness are developed, we diminish the influence and the need for being shocked into awareness.
An emphasis on clarity keeps us aware that things are changing. An emphasis on tranquility allows us to feel an ultimately undefined and indefinable sense of consistency. Ego, like using a pronoun to signify many things at different times and in different contexts, is a vehicle that is real enough to feel real yet empty enough to fit in all these influences. The interaction between immediate awareness of this moment, ego, and environment allows for the combination of continuity and change that sets us up for seeing the difference between random change and spastic actions as opposed to progress.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Ego and Tranquility III
Let's come at this from a different angle to see if we can complete the picture. Internal states, moods, and external situations change more rapidly than self-identity tends to. Ego includes self-identity (what we think and experience ourselves to be) as well as habitual patterns of feeling and behavior. In the same way that what we think of ourselves is not all of who we are, patterns of feeling and behavior are also not all of who we are. We can see genetic temperament, rather than something like Freud's "id" as basic to ego.
Once a relatively consistent ego is established in adulthood (as it is with almost all adults), intentional shifts in state, fluidity between states, and openness--especially awareness of openness--become more important to personal development. Intentionally incorporating openness and fluidity into self-identity incorporates openness and fluidity into ego without changing history or the uniqueness of one's individuality. In other words, one begins to wipe the slate of personality clean rather than wiping it blank.
I guess that if I'm going to title this series "Ego and Tranquility", I should probably include something on tranquility. It sort of fits with the blankness. In moderating states, we might start off by simply noticing what sort of state we're in. Once we notice, we might also notice a response to being in that state--either like or dislike. Both like and dislike tend to drive the "logic" of that state. By not wanting to fear snakes, I keep thinking about snakes, and this reminds me that I fear snakes. David Barlow has done great work with anxiety and fear. You can essentially wear out someone's snake phobia by keeping them around snakes for long enough, showing them that snakes are not necessarily dangerous, and eventually getting them to hold snakes.
If you aren't willing to deal with the intense reactions that his process demands, or if dealing with something less tangible (than snakes) like shame, it becomes important to apply a sort of clutch (like in a vehicle with a manual transmission). We do this by regaining some degree of control over our sympathetic nervous response. This ends up being the same as when moms soothe upset children, except we aren't relying on snakes to wear us out or moms to calm us down. We're relying on ego as a transitional object (our vehicle) and using awareness and intention as the clutch. The interesting thing is that ego might seem to drive us wherever any given internal state is directing us if we are unaware and also unable to hit the clutch. Hitting the clutch may leave us pointed in the same direction, moving with some left-over momentum, but we are no longer continuing to speed towards the goal of some state (like anger) rather than driving the bus ourselves.
This can be like waking from a dream or realizing--all of a sudden--that you're behind the wheel but that you've been on autopilot. That moment between when you are impulsively following the logic of whatever state--like when anger is pushing you towards revenge, for example--and when you realize that you are actually driving can have a number of different feelings. It can feel somewhat disappointing and apathetic, it can feel liberated or light (including an "unbearable lightness of being"), and it can also feel tranquil, peaceful, serene. It is the experiential definition (rather than semantic definition) of unawareness to not notice the state you had been in and the feeling of transitioning. Realizing this lack of awareness can be like suddenly realizing that the ground is not solid beneath your feet. Most people prefer denial and unawareness to this realization and the uneasisness and fear it can bring.
Once a relatively consistent ego is established in adulthood (as it is with almost all adults), intentional shifts in state, fluidity between states, and openness--especially awareness of openness--become more important to personal development. Intentionally incorporating openness and fluidity into self-identity incorporates openness and fluidity into ego without changing history or the uniqueness of one's individuality. In other words, one begins to wipe the slate of personality clean rather than wiping it blank.
I guess that if I'm going to title this series "Ego and Tranquility", I should probably include something on tranquility. It sort of fits with the blankness. In moderating states, we might start off by simply noticing what sort of state we're in. Once we notice, we might also notice a response to being in that state--either like or dislike. Both like and dislike tend to drive the "logic" of that state. By not wanting to fear snakes, I keep thinking about snakes, and this reminds me that I fear snakes. David Barlow has done great work with anxiety and fear. You can essentially wear out someone's snake phobia by keeping them around snakes for long enough, showing them that snakes are not necessarily dangerous, and eventually getting them to hold snakes.
If you aren't willing to deal with the intense reactions that his process demands, or if dealing with something less tangible (than snakes) like shame, it becomes important to apply a sort of clutch (like in a vehicle with a manual transmission). We do this by regaining some degree of control over our sympathetic nervous response. This ends up being the same as when moms soothe upset children, except we aren't relying on snakes to wear us out or moms to calm us down. We're relying on ego as a transitional object (our vehicle) and using awareness and intention as the clutch. The interesting thing is that ego might seem to drive us wherever any given internal state is directing us if we are unaware and also unable to hit the clutch. Hitting the clutch may leave us pointed in the same direction, moving with some left-over momentum, but we are no longer continuing to speed towards the goal of some state (like anger) rather than driving the bus ourselves.
This can be like waking from a dream or realizing--all of a sudden--that you're behind the wheel but that you've been on autopilot. That moment between when you are impulsively following the logic of whatever state--like when anger is pushing you towards revenge, for example--and when you realize that you are actually driving can have a number of different feelings. It can feel somewhat disappointing and apathetic, it can feel liberated or light (including an "unbearable lightness of being"), and it can also feel tranquil, peaceful, serene. It is the experiential definition (rather than semantic definition) of unawareness to not notice the state you had been in and the feeling of transitioning. Realizing this lack of awareness can be like suddenly realizing that the ground is not solid beneath your feet. Most people prefer denial and unawareness to this realization and the uneasisness and fear it can bring.
Ego and Tranquility II
The question we're carrying over is: what functions for adults as that supportive field? Is it relationships, community? No. Intention? No. Wisdom, insight? No and no. Tranquility? Also no. Or maybe the answers should all be, "Not only that."
All those things feed in. As usual, I want to turn that question on its side to see what it looks like that way. If we've got a good model of how personal growth can occur (in children), then--given all the differences adults face--HOW does adult growth occur?
Psychodynamics often describes the "primary caregiver" as a transitional object. The kid can explore a little ways, return to Mom and feel reassured that everything is alright, and then explore again. Likewise, then, the space around Mom begins to feel safe. Actual places like one's bedroom, playroom, backyard, or near Mom can then be used as "transitional spaces" where exploration, play, growth, and learning occur. Everywhere else is potentially dangerous and scary. It's not much of a stretch to see that dangerous schools are not really the best "transitional spaces" in psychodynamic terms. And we also grow into professional and romantic relationships where trust is recognized or at least felt to be really important for any meaningful or sustained relationship. So, as we move out of mom's arms and out of the nursery, we can see that the psychological "space" is both real physical space (outside of the nursery) and also sociocultural space (trustworthy relationships).
In essence then, we need the potential, the motivation, the tools, and the space to work in for growth. We need at least one more thing: continuity. Without continuity or coherence, each moment may be intense enough, but there is no way to mark growth as opposed to random change. And, in speaking of personal growth and maintaining the motivation for personal growth as adults, we are speaking in terms of an internal or personal SENSE of continuity. It is this sense that allows us to say that we feel that there has or has not been growth, since personal growth is not as objectively measurable as, say, height.
Here is where ego finds its true value. Ego, like growth, may be made up of many parts without necessarily being any of those parts or influences. As we move beyond the "primary relationship" with Mom, our developing egos become our own transitional objects--that which, in reference to, we either feel growth or the absence of growth. Now, as I mentioned, ego isn't necessarily just one singular thing. Ego is influenced by its own transitional object-space: society. With these three reference points--individual awareness, ego, society--we have what it takes to measure growth.
How does that work out? Well, we create a relatively consistent sense of ego and society even though personal awareness is constantly shifting. The phenomena we pay attention to, shifts in internal brain states, and changes in emotional moods tend to occur more quickly than changes in what we think of ego and society. At some point in our lives, we intentionally attempt to shift our internal state--from anxiety, fear, anger, despite, shame, etc. If we find or are given the tools and stick to the training we can improve at shifting our internal states towards those states we would choose. That's the intention part.
As we repeatedly use our intention to build the attentional skills that allow us to shift our internal states, those intentional choices and intentional states become part of our self-identity (which is part of ego). Those chosen and increasingly familiar states become more consistent traits, more consistent parts of who we are. It's just that, at this point, the "who" in who we are is bigger than a concrete self of who we were, more real and complex than an ideal who that we might have wanted to become. The growth itself changes us. As we move closer to the ideal, the ideal must also change and come closer to the complexity of reality and history and personality, etc. At some point, it becomes very clear that we are trading, piece by piece, a sort of thin and sterilized (yet bright) ideal self for a very real and complex and sometimes still problematic but inspired self. Idealization becomes inspiration as we become intimate and familiar with our own active potential.
All those things feed in. As usual, I want to turn that question on its side to see what it looks like that way. If we've got a good model of how personal growth can occur (in children), then--given all the differences adults face--HOW does adult growth occur?
Psychodynamics often describes the "primary caregiver" as a transitional object. The kid can explore a little ways, return to Mom and feel reassured that everything is alright, and then explore again. Likewise, then, the space around Mom begins to feel safe. Actual places like one's bedroom, playroom, backyard, or near Mom can then be used as "transitional spaces" where exploration, play, growth, and learning occur. Everywhere else is potentially dangerous and scary. It's not much of a stretch to see that dangerous schools are not really the best "transitional spaces" in psychodynamic terms. And we also grow into professional and romantic relationships where trust is recognized or at least felt to be really important for any meaningful or sustained relationship. So, as we move out of mom's arms and out of the nursery, we can see that the psychological "space" is both real physical space (outside of the nursery) and also sociocultural space (trustworthy relationships).
In essence then, we need the potential, the motivation, the tools, and the space to work in for growth. We need at least one more thing: continuity. Without continuity or coherence, each moment may be intense enough, but there is no way to mark growth as opposed to random change. And, in speaking of personal growth and maintaining the motivation for personal growth as adults, we are speaking in terms of an internal or personal SENSE of continuity. It is this sense that allows us to say that we feel that there has or has not been growth, since personal growth is not as objectively measurable as, say, height.
Here is where ego finds its true value. Ego, like growth, may be made up of many parts without necessarily being any of those parts or influences. As we move beyond the "primary relationship" with Mom, our developing egos become our own transitional objects--that which, in reference to, we either feel growth or the absence of growth. Now, as I mentioned, ego isn't necessarily just one singular thing. Ego is influenced by its own transitional object-space: society. With these three reference points--individual awareness, ego, society--we have what it takes to measure growth.
How does that work out? Well, we create a relatively consistent sense of ego and society even though personal awareness is constantly shifting. The phenomena we pay attention to, shifts in internal brain states, and changes in emotional moods tend to occur more quickly than changes in what we think of ego and society. At some point in our lives, we intentionally attempt to shift our internal state--from anxiety, fear, anger, despite, shame, etc. If we find or are given the tools and stick to the training we can improve at shifting our internal states towards those states we would choose. That's the intention part.
As we repeatedly use our intention to build the attentional skills that allow us to shift our internal states, those intentional choices and intentional states become part of our self-identity (which is part of ego). Those chosen and increasingly familiar states become more consistent traits, more consistent parts of who we are. It's just that, at this point, the "who" in who we are is bigger than a concrete self of who we were, more real and complex than an ideal who that we might have wanted to become. The growth itself changes us. As we move closer to the ideal, the ideal must also change and come closer to the complexity of reality and history and personality, etc. At some point, it becomes very clear that we are trading, piece by piece, a sort of thin and sterilized (yet bright) ideal self for a very real and complex and sometimes still problematic but inspired self. Idealization becomes inspiration as we become intimate and familiar with our own active potential.
Ego and Tranquility
In the Mahamudra tradition, they sometimes say that anything without tranquility as its base or foundation does not last. It seems to me that, when we begin considering how intention fits with tranquility, we come to an unusual understanding of ego. It helps, probably, to include some understanding of how our self-identities develop.
Think about baby-talk from babies' perspective. It's not that far from when adults hear a foreign language. Under the right circumstances, you can comprehend that the apparent babble conveys intentional, and even understood meanings. Babies will mimic the babble they hear, and we approximate the sounds we want them to make. We help shape their noises into closer approximations of the language(s) we speak around and to them. While adult learning at this early stage of language acquisition may be more formalized, we still start off with some degree of exposure to the new language, babble on our own, and are prompted to improve our babbling.
In order to stick with the process long enough for our babble to become semi-intelligible and for us to understand at least basic words and phrases, we need to stick with the process long enough. For babies, they need someone beyond themselves to "hold" or maintain that intention and the process. Now, if our societies were full of enlightened individuals sharing their personal growth, personal development could go pretty much the same way. And that is happening to some extent. But most of us had mothers and teachers who put a great deal of time into language acquisition support when we were most motivated to learn language. We tend not to get the same one-on-one time with multiple personal growth gurus.
Throw in the challenge that by the time we begin considering personal growth seriously, we've also developed to the point where we have multiple, conflicting intentions to deal with. The average adult has to juggle the importance of paying the bills, maintatining relationships, maybe even teaching their own child to speak, etc. These competing intentions make it very difficult to focus wholeheartedly, to commit to any process 100%, and yet that is often how people learn best. Plus, that guru isn't going to feed and clothe you while spending up to 18-20 hours each day making sure you are happy, secure, and learning. Moms may not bring what gurus can bring, but gurus don't match up to moms in the mom-ing category either.
What all that means is that something our brains and environment did for us when we were learning language as children needs to be done by ourselves when learning personal growth as adults. When we are born, our brains are exploration-oriented--ready to learn. Mom, or whoever, works with that potential and a lot of emotional input to help us learn. Our brains respond to all this stimulation by growing lots of brain cells, training many of those brain cells to fire together in cohesive patterns that repeat when we see meaning repeated, and letting many other cells (the ones we hadn't needed to speak our specific language) die. They die because, like a screaming baby bird or an aggressive puppy, fortune in this type of instance favors the bold. The cells that are used get the metabolic energy while others starve.
The same basic process goes for adult attention. If you find it more valuable to sell more cars than to increase your sense of faith and virtue, your attention will predominantly go to what you deem more important (selling cars) while personal growth starves for attention. But this is simple attention economy stuff. What allows a baby to "believe" that there may be some meaning in the babble? Whatever that potential is, it is probably some part genetic predisposition, some part emotional connection with the caregiver, some part neurological surplus, etc. It is not just intention. There is a sort of "field" or environement of things that come together to allow for growth into and through that field.
As adults, we need to find something to function as that supportive background or field. Our brains are not growing at the same rate, mom probably isn't going to spend 18 hours a day with us, and--instead of our whole society pushing us to learn language--we have all of these other demands on our time and attention.
Think about baby-talk from babies' perspective. It's not that far from when adults hear a foreign language. Under the right circumstances, you can comprehend that the apparent babble conveys intentional, and even understood meanings. Babies will mimic the babble they hear, and we approximate the sounds we want them to make. We help shape their noises into closer approximations of the language(s) we speak around and to them. While adult learning at this early stage of language acquisition may be more formalized, we still start off with some degree of exposure to the new language, babble on our own, and are prompted to improve our babbling.
In order to stick with the process long enough for our babble to become semi-intelligible and for us to understand at least basic words and phrases, we need to stick with the process long enough. For babies, they need someone beyond themselves to "hold" or maintain that intention and the process. Now, if our societies were full of enlightened individuals sharing their personal growth, personal development could go pretty much the same way. And that is happening to some extent. But most of us had mothers and teachers who put a great deal of time into language acquisition support when we were most motivated to learn language. We tend not to get the same one-on-one time with multiple personal growth gurus.
Throw in the challenge that by the time we begin considering personal growth seriously, we've also developed to the point where we have multiple, conflicting intentions to deal with. The average adult has to juggle the importance of paying the bills, maintatining relationships, maybe even teaching their own child to speak, etc. These competing intentions make it very difficult to focus wholeheartedly, to commit to any process 100%, and yet that is often how people learn best. Plus, that guru isn't going to feed and clothe you while spending up to 18-20 hours each day making sure you are happy, secure, and learning. Moms may not bring what gurus can bring, but gurus don't match up to moms in the mom-ing category either.
What all that means is that something our brains and environment did for us when we were learning language as children needs to be done by ourselves when learning personal growth as adults. When we are born, our brains are exploration-oriented--ready to learn. Mom, or whoever, works with that potential and a lot of emotional input to help us learn. Our brains respond to all this stimulation by growing lots of brain cells, training many of those brain cells to fire together in cohesive patterns that repeat when we see meaning repeated, and letting many other cells (the ones we hadn't needed to speak our specific language) die. They die because, like a screaming baby bird or an aggressive puppy, fortune in this type of instance favors the bold. The cells that are used get the metabolic energy while others starve.
The same basic process goes for adult attention. If you find it more valuable to sell more cars than to increase your sense of faith and virtue, your attention will predominantly go to what you deem more important (selling cars) while personal growth starves for attention. But this is simple attention economy stuff. What allows a baby to "believe" that there may be some meaning in the babble? Whatever that potential is, it is probably some part genetic predisposition, some part emotional connection with the caregiver, some part neurological surplus, etc. It is not just intention. There is a sort of "field" or environement of things that come together to allow for growth into and through that field.
As adults, we need to find something to function as that supportive background or field. Our brains are not growing at the same rate, mom probably isn't going to spend 18 hours a day with us, and--instead of our whole society pushing us to learn language--we have all of these other demands on our time and attention.
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