Is it my job to spend the days of my life working to somehow become divine, or should I spend my precious energy in an effort to become more completely human? This question was raised a few weeks ago in his Zen/Yoga/Gurdjieff blog by my good friend Lee van Laer. He titled it Becoming Human and writes:
“The idea we are going to evolve into some higher spiritual being who contemplates the world from the bliss of a better level than the one we are on completely misses the point of our incarnation in this body and our life as humans. That is to say, we think we will become better than humans; and that completely misses the point of being human — which is to become entirely human. Becoming entirely human is another way of saying, ‘becoming conscious.’”
That sounds so right. The inner work of a lifetime is surely about giving up our dreams of glory, and becoming more who we really are. For different people this will be a different kind of giving up. What urges have taken each of us over? Money? Power? Becoming a fireman, or president, or CEO?
Succeeding, or being better than the next guy, has been central to the social message for many decades. Winning the game probably accounts for us all. But maybe it’s time to ask the question, what game are we playing?
What does it mean to become more human? Surely I will be more vulnerable to anything that happens to me. If I accept to be present to what’s really going on, rather than dreaming my usual dreams of glory or assumptions of failure, I could discover whether I’m being one-sided. That is, reacting only from my head, my heart, or my physical reaction to whatever is happening.
However, vulnerable is not a place I like to be, and I bet that’s true of you too. Nevertheless, we cut ourselves off from reality when we refuse to accept whatever’s happening to us or within us. Instead, the head brain usually refocuses around excuses or explanations of what is going on.
I, for one, am an expert at knowing things shouldn’t be the way they are, and therefore trying to wish or confabulate how they could be different. That way, up to a point, that helps me avoid the real taste of me, right there, in that soup, at that moment.
So how to become more real, which is another way of saying more human? One way is to find some specific examples of how I run away, and begin to watch out for them. Then, at least sometimes, I can say no to escaping from present reality.
Here’s one example that has helped me: I have a Busy Head-Brain that has its own strong opinions about what is more valuable and less valuable. So when it tells me “hurry up and brush your teeth because you’ve got to go out,” I rush through brushing my teeth as though it weren’t also important to do that well. Fewer cavities, for one thing! Why not slow down and giving my mouth more attention a couple of minutes a day?
Maybe my head decides that exercise is good for me but it is full of rules of how I should do this or that, so it’s no fun at all!
That’s the judge inside my head: Gotta do this, gotta do that, all day long. It’s running the show and I’m desperately trying to keep up with it until after supper, when it allows me time to relax and watch a show.
Or, on the other hand, my emotional reactions can be in the cockpit, and use up my daily energy supply in one big burst of anger, jealousy, judgmental criticism or whatever. It’s up to me to figure out how to put out the match before I’m taken over by a fire. And I can only do this by recognizing more consciously the one-sidedness I am operating under.
Put simply, when one of my three centers or brains thinks it’s the king of my castle, I’m not yet human. Until I become human I cannot experience reality.
Until you come down to earth you cannot experience heaven.
