Читать книгу The Three Questions: How to Discover and Master the Power Within You - Barbara Emrys, Don Miguel Ruiz, don Miguel Ruiz Jr. - Страница 11

EVER SINCE YOU can remember, you’ve given the main character of your story power to determine your reality. It has the authority to talk, think, and make decisions that affect your body and your world. It tells you what to believe and how to invest your beliefs with emotional energy. You call the main character in your ongoing story me.

Let’s take a minute to understand what the word me means in this context. Me is the person you accept as your real self. You talk about yourself all the time, right? You say me, mine, and myself countless times in the course of an ordinary conversation. Through me, you say things like, “Hey, this is important to me!” or, “Are you listening to me?” or, “What are they saying about me?” Me is everything you believe you are. Me is everything related to the character you forged out of core beliefs and countless experiences.

The word me, or its counterpart in any language, is a simple pronoun—and like every word in the language we speak, it has no meaning until we agree upon a meaning. The difference is that me comes with a lot of baggage: past memories, judgments, and automatic assumptions. We put a lot of faith in our identity and expect it to matter to other people. Who we think we are develops into a mythology. We share the myth of me with old friends and new acquaintances. We tell riveting stories about ourselves. We send photos to back up our stories. We celebrate me in so many ways.

Me always refers to the person speaking, but we don’t give much consideration to who that might be. We say, “Look at me!” indicating that we want attention given to this human being—but also to this thought process, these frustrations, these expectations. We feel sympathy for ourselves, but to the one listening, “Look at me!” could evoke other emotions. Our idea of who we are isn’t everyone’s idea of who we are. It may not be anyone’s idea.

Me doesn’t refer to the body we occupy. Me doesn’t describe the energy that moves through us. Me isn’t a primal thing, because we didn’t invent a “self” until we learned a language. Me didn’t exist until we began to see the world through symbols and their meanings. In short, me doesn’t refer to anything real. It refers to an image, an idea we have of ourselves that we’ve attempted to put into words. Of course, the words we use to describe ourselves change all the time, because we see things differently with every changing situation. Who we think we are has evolved a lot since early childhood, when we first began to talk and think. Who we imagine ourselves to be still changes—with time, with shifting moods, and with the feedback we get from people we care about.

Our impressions change, but we each subscribe to a general myth, or false belief, about ourselves. Me is a personal mythology, a collection of stories that we repeat to ourselves and accept as truth. Like children with their superheroes, we are believers in me. Wrapped in our mythology, we feel confident to take on the world.

Me is not what you actually are. You are life, or the energy that made you a physical being. Life runs through your body and makes it able to move, to love, to feel. Life’s energy created your miraculous brain. It made a thinking mind possible and gave voice to its main character. Life is everything seen and unseen. Only life exists.

There is only life—and infinite points of view. Everything created by life has a point of view, and your body is one. Your mind is one. The human body develops according to its biological programming, but the mind evolves consciously, through attention and deliberate action. The mind is what we think we are, until we decide otherwise. The voice that speaks for the mind is us, until we recognize that it’s not the truth of us at all.

Of all the things we can accomplish as humans, this kind of self-awareness brings the most rewards. It can guide the evolution of the main character. Me responds to your name and knows your history. Me is aware of your physical environment, and me can also become aware of itself.

Personal growth does get complicated when we try to distance ourselves from the character we created. Through me, we describe ourselves and the world. If we claim to be the victim of the voice in our head, we’ll be the victim in all situations. If we deny the power we have to change the voice of me, how can new doors of awareness ever open? How can we live fearlessly within the dream of humanity, where there are more than seven billion me’s—all with opinions of their own and all demanding to be heard?

Reality is everyone’s personal creation, so the same is true of your reality. The judgments in your head are the result of your beliefs and past experiences. If you feel oppressed by your own thoughts, then it’s time to take charge of them. Does me have to be a big judge or a constant victim? No. Most of us want a closer relationship with the truth, and we all want some peace of mind. We want to be healthy, but so often our judgments make us sick. We want to be spiritually aware, but our beliefs keep us spellbound.

If we take the time to listen to what we think and say, we have a chance to be more honest with ourselves. Behavior follows belief, and any belief can be modified. If we challenge our own opinions, we can begin to find our way back to authenticity. Do we always have to be right? Do we really need to have the last word? If our actions do not represent the kind of people we want to be, we can take new paths of action. We can change.

It makes sense that the more we invest in our own self-image, the more difficult it is to change. So we shouldn’t use the main character of our story as an excuse to feel victimized or to deceive ourselves. The truth can speak through the mind, just as it moves through nerves and flesh. The mind can choose to serve truth and not the stories. Life’s energy uses the tools available to create a body, a thought, or a dream. A healthy body is a wonderful conduit for energy, and an aware mind is the secret to making our reality work for us.

Your body is real, but me is fictional. And yet me is running the show. How many times have you defended your actions and not understood why? At times, we all regret doing things we consider inexcusable or saying things we don’t really mean. We like to say, “I’m only human,” but it’s not our humanness that’s causing the problem. So it’s natural to wonder who really is in charge. “Who am I?” we wonder, not really expecting an answer. No one stops to ask who they’re not, and that’s where we have to begin.

Be aware of yourself as energy, and everything changes. Here is how that works. You are no longer the victim of your beliefs; you are the creator. You are the artist. You are also the painting—the canvas that is your reality. Imagine picking up a brush and painting a figure that looks like you. Imagine doing that continually for the rest of your life. Unlike most figures in a painting, however, this one has a brain. It has a brain with a mind that gives meaning to what it perceives. It functions beautifully, but it’s not aware that there is an artist. There are many other figures in this painting, but they’re also not aware of the artist. This makes it inevitable that they rely on each other for knowledge. They react and interact with each other. They learn from each other.

Every day the scenario changes. Instant by instant, there are subtle changes happening to the painter’s main point of focus. The figure itself is coming alive at your touch. You not only have colors and brushes to work with, but you can make choices through this character. You can work as life works, providing constant opportunity for growth, so that the main figure adapts well to an ever-changing landscape. You can skillfully guide me into awareness.

Some people dare to look inward. They take the time to listen to their own thoughts and reflect on their own actions. They ask questions of themselves. “Am I really this kind of person?”

“Are these feelings genuine?” “If I’d known I had a choice, would I have done it the same way?” They catch themselves in mid reaction and change the response. They find emotional balance. That’s what it means to be present. That’s how we become healthier in mind and spirit. By observing, we can all learn. By modifying the voice in our heads, we have a chance to grow wise.

Some people stop believing their thoughts altogether. This is important, because once the voice in our head loses authority, it turns silent. We can observe events and respond genuinely. We’re used to reacting in expected ways. We’re used to seeing things as we’ve been taught to see them—and as we’ve preferred to see them. Once we stop lying to ourselves, all that is left is truth. All that is left is authenticity, something we lost in our storytelling.

Throughout human history, people have been wondering, questioning, seeking. Some of those people have changed the world—not just their world, but the entire dream of humanity. They begin by doubting what they know. They ask one question, then another. They consult wiser men and women, perhaps. Soon, they start listening to the main character of their own story. It has a voice that speaks clearly, and only to them. What is it saying, and how much of its message is true? Can any of it be believed? For that matter, what is the truth, what is real?

We have a few amazing tools to work with when it comes to solving the mystery of who we are. The first tool is the power of attention. Our attention is what makes it possible to take notice and to learn. The sound of our name captures our attention, a response we learned in infancy. Attention brings every other faculty into play—we look, we listen, we respond. We receive information, and we process it. And, by catching another person’s attention, we learn to transmit information to someone else and out to the world.

Over time, however, we’ve mastered the art of sleepwalking through life. We don’t think we need to pay attention, because we’re sure we know what’s going on around us. Our responses to everything have become predictable. Our thinking is automatic, and we automatically assume we know what other people are thinking. It’s safe to say that our attention has been weakened by neglect. What if we rediscovered its amazing power? We’d have minds that are agile and flexible when events change—and change is inevitable.

There’s no need ever to be crushed by failed expectations. If we used our senses to gather real information, we wouldn’t be so mystified by life. If we really listened—not only to what people are saying, but also to what we say to ourselves in quiet moments—we would empathize with others so much more and show compassion toward ourselves. Instead, we make assumptions and encourage misunderstanding. Strengthening our attention may feel like a workout at first, but the rewards come quickly. The brain responds eagerly to new challenges. Look, listen, and observe without judgment. Notice how your emotional responses become more honest without a story. Attention can lead to total awareness in every precious moment of life.

The second tool is memory. Memory is stored in matter (our brains) the way music is stored on a compact disc. We’re able to store all the memories of a lifetime in one brain, but that doesn’t make those memories real. We store impressions of things, people, and events—but since every brain perceives in its own way, even siblings remember childhood events differently. Memory helps to create an impression of reality, but impressions aren’t the same as truth. We rely too much on memory to tell us the truth. We let it turn our attention away from the present moment and draw us into the past. We frequently use memory against ourselves, but we have the power to use it differently. Instead, we can let memory enlighten us.

Just as memory played a key role in our early development, it can guide us in our adult transformation. In infancy we watched our parents; we listened, and we imitated. Everything we observed became part of our own pattern of behavior. We tried to walk, we fell down, and we tried again. We learned to avoid pain and move toward pleasure. And what about now, when we wish to change some unpleasant patterns? Why wouldn’t we do everything we can to take care of our physical body and our emotional well-being? We know how it feels to lose our temper and feel regret. It feels awful. We know how shame and guilt make us feel, and yet we still invite them in. Memory can serve us in our efforts to wake up and resist automatic responses. Memory can steer us away from abusive habits, encouraging us to stand up and walk forward with self-respect.

The third and best tool is imagination. Imagination is its own kind of superpower. We picture something in our minds, and then we make it real. In fact, just by imagining something wonderful, the body feels comforted and energized. We can also imagine painful events and horrible consequences. By imagining the worst, we produce fear in the physical body and spread fear to other bodies. We imagine the future and tune out the present. Imagination is power, for sure; but like all power, it can be corrupted.

Right now, we can practice using imagination in a valuable way. We can turn our attention to the exciting task of making ourselves more aware. We can use memory the way it was intended to be used—to keep us from repeating past mistakes. We can imagine things we’ve never tried to imagine. We can doubt what we know and let go of familiar stories. The mind wields enormous influence. It has developed habits over time, but we can change those habits. By using the tools available to us, we can calm the inner chaos and find peace in our virtual world.

You’re not who you think you are. In obvious ways, you’re not the kid you were at four years old, struggling with unspoken fears. You’re not the awkward teen, the rookie at work, or the young entrepreneur. You’re not someone’s significant other or your mom’s favorite child. You’re not the main character of your story or anyone else’s, regardless of how long you’ve played those roles. And you’re not actually the one you call me, who tries to speak for your physical body. You’re not your mind or the set of laws your mind tries so hard to enforce. It has created an entire governing force out of those laws, but that’s not what you are either.

You’re not really the little government in your head, but its laws nonetheless influence your actions and reactions. Sometimes that government seems tolerant; sometimes it’s blind and unforgiving. Either way, me is operating as its commander in chief. Now would be a good time to decide what kind of leader me should be. Now is a good time to take a look at your creation and to make inspired changes.

We were all born to learn, to grow, and to become aware human beings. It was our intention to be the best we could be. Somewhere along the way, we got distracted. Our intentions were derailed. We forgot what it felt like to be authentic. It may seem impossible to escape from our own system of punishments and rewards, but that’s not true. We can bring down the whole structure if we want to.

It’s interesting to see how each of us creates a personal reality. It’s also interesting to see just how far we go to defend that reality. Rather than defend it, we can make it better. It takes a few basic insights to pull off a revolution. First, it’s important to see how the system was put into place. It’s helpful to see how we got here, wherever we are, and what we can do to change our world. We can explore ways to transform the one who’s describing that world to us.

Awareness is the ability to see what is, and it’s never too late to open our eyes.