The structure of my beliefs centers around a basic, dharmic premise: that the ego is a fairly primitive if well-meaning vestige of our prehistoric heritage and, if allowed to run the show, will inevitably lead us into dissatisfaction. The ego's response to this dissatisfaction will nearly always be destructive, in ways ranging from subtle to blatant, from overeating to war.
Allow me to expand on this and explain myself a bit more clearly. In our species' early phases we discovered a rather unfortunate truth: we were weaker, slower, and smaller than most of those animals who wanted to eat us. Hiding wasn't an option, since these behemoths were also the ones we wished to kill for our food. Bummer. What did we have going for us in this situation? Really just two things: we were smarter than our predators and we could plan ahead, anticipate the outcomes of certain actions and take those that were safest, avoiding those that harmed us in the past. Thus, to survive we became constantly vigilant and perceived everything as a potential threat. Now, there may well have been the kind and the generous, the deep thinker and the philosopher among these early humans. But if one substitutes contemplation for constant vigilance when the sabertooth tiger is around, one becomes lunch. So all of those (entirely theoretical) deep thinkers did not survive to pass their genes along. In this way, the constant perception of threat became adaptive and was passed along as part of our primal structure.
Of course, there are many ways of looking at and defining the ego, and many theories about ego formation. But I think the model I have outlined is extremely helpful to bear in mind. Because what causes me to have the impulse to overeat is this feeling of threat. Whenever my ego feels there is any imbalance in its universe, the immediate impulse is to fix the imbalance in any way possible or I AM GOING TO DIE. That is what the ego thinks. This is still a useful tool, of course, when faced with a raging maniac or a flash flood, but actual threats are pretty rare in our modern lives. When was the last time anything tried to eat you? Still, the ego persists in perceiving any and all depredations or deprivations as an imminent threat about which something must be done RIGHT NOW.
One of my favorite dharma teachers, Heather Martin (who is British) said something I loved about all this; "The ego is actually quite dear." The ego is really doing its very best to keep us safe. But like a small dog with lots of teeth and a loud bark but not much in the way of discrimination, the ego will attack anything unfamiliar. So, what are we to do with this useful but dysfunctional tool? Struggling against it only leads to more and greater suffering ("bad dog!"). The solution is deceptively simple. Rather than try to diminish the ego, we can expand the space in which it operates.
The first thing we must do is recognize that the ego's has good intentions, but is often misguided. This leads us inevitably to the realization that there must be some part of us that is not ego, since there is some part of us that is making these realizations about the ego. The next step is to become very clear that the ego is not in charge. This is a decision we can make. It is not difficult. Remember the old bumpersticker, "Don't believe everything you think"? That's the basic idea. The ego will throw all sorts of roadblocks in the way of being taken out of the driver's seat, but we simply cannot afford, as individuals and as a society, for the ego to continue running the show. Otherwise, we will all wind up like Congress, flailing about to prove that we are the top dog while destroying the very fabric of what we are sworn to protect. If we let the ego run the show, we will always be seeking for the next fix for this feeling of dissatisfaction, and always feeling that the final and complete sense of security is just around the next corner. I have bad news; it's not. But there is something much, much better: the ability to expand our consciousness to include the ego without making it the lord and master. And as it turns out, this is not so very difficult.
Allow me to expand on this and explain myself a bit more clearly. In our species' early phases we discovered a rather unfortunate truth: we were weaker, slower, and smaller than most of those animals who wanted to eat us. Hiding wasn't an option, since these behemoths were also the ones we wished to kill for our food. Bummer. What did we have going for us in this situation? Really just two things: we were smarter than our predators and we could plan ahead, anticipate the outcomes of certain actions and take those that were safest, avoiding those that harmed us in the past. Thus, to survive we became constantly vigilant and perceived everything as a potential threat. Now, there may well have been the kind and the generous, the deep thinker and the philosopher among these early humans. But if one substitutes contemplation for constant vigilance when the sabertooth tiger is around, one becomes lunch. So all of those (entirely theoretical) deep thinkers did not survive to pass their genes along. In this way, the constant perception of threat became adaptive and was passed along as part of our primal structure.
Of course, there are many ways of looking at and defining the ego, and many theories about ego formation. But I think the model I have outlined is extremely helpful to bear in mind. Because what causes me to have the impulse to overeat is this feeling of threat. Whenever my ego feels there is any imbalance in its universe, the immediate impulse is to fix the imbalance in any way possible or I AM GOING TO DIE. That is what the ego thinks. This is still a useful tool, of course, when faced with a raging maniac or a flash flood, but actual threats are pretty rare in our modern lives. When was the last time anything tried to eat you? Still, the ego persists in perceiving any and all depredations or deprivations as an imminent threat about which something must be done RIGHT NOW.
One of my favorite dharma teachers, Heather Martin (who is British) said something I loved about all this; "The ego is actually quite dear." The ego is really doing its very best to keep us safe. But like a small dog with lots of teeth and a loud bark but not much in the way of discrimination, the ego will attack anything unfamiliar. So, what are we to do with this useful but dysfunctional tool? Struggling against it only leads to more and greater suffering ("bad dog!"). The solution is deceptively simple. Rather than try to diminish the ego, we can expand the space in which it operates.
The first thing we must do is recognize that the ego's has good intentions, but is often misguided. This leads us inevitably to the realization that there must be some part of us that is not ego, since there is some part of us that is making these realizations about the ego. The next step is to become very clear that the ego is not in charge. This is a decision we can make. It is not difficult. Remember the old bumpersticker, "Don't believe everything you think"? That's the basic idea. The ego will throw all sorts of roadblocks in the way of being taken out of the driver's seat, but we simply cannot afford, as individuals and as a society, for the ego to continue running the show. Otherwise, we will all wind up like Congress, flailing about to prove that we are the top dog while destroying the very fabric of what we are sworn to protect. If we let the ego run the show, we will always be seeking for the next fix for this feeling of dissatisfaction, and always feeling that the final and complete sense of security is just around the next corner. I have bad news; it's not. But there is something much, much better: the ability to expand our consciousness to include the ego without making it the lord and master. And as it turns out, this is not so very difficult.
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