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.