6
The Practice of Living Consciously
In virtually all of the great spiritual and philosophical traditions of the world there appears some form of the idea that most human beings are sleepwalking through their own existence. Enlightenment is identified with waking up. Evolution and progress are identified with an expansion of consciousness.
We perceive consciousness as the highest manifestation of life. The higher the form of consciousness, the more advanced the form of life. Moving up the evolutionary ladder from the time consciousness first emerges on the planet, each life-form has a more advanced form of consciousness than that of the life-form on the rung below.
Among our own species, we carry this same principle further: We identify increasing maturity with wider vision, greater awareness, higher consciousness.
Why is consciousness so important? Because for all species that possess it, consciousness is the basic tool of survival—the ability to be aware of the environment in some form, at some level, and to guide action accordingly. I use consciousness here in its primary meaning: the state of being conscious or aware of some aspect of reality. We also may speak of consciousness as a faculty—the attribute of being able to be aware. To the distinctively human form of consciousness, with its capacity for concept formation and abstract thought, we give the name mind.
As we have discussed, we are beings for whom consciousness (at the conceptual level) is volitional. This means that the design of our nature contains an extraordinary option—that of seeking awareness or not bothering (or actively avoiding it), seeking truth or not bothering (or actively avoiding it), focusing our mind or not bothering (or choosing to drop to a lower level of consciousness). In other words, we have the option of exercising our powers or of subverting our means of survival and well-being. This capacity for self-management is our glory and, at times, our burden.
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Our mind is our basic tool of survival. Betray it and self-esteem suffers.
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If we do not bring an appropriate level of consciousness to our activities, if we do not live mindfully, the inevitable penalty is a diminished sense of self-efficacy and self-respect. We cannot feel competent and worthy while conducting our lives in a mental fog. Our mind is our basic tool of survival. Betray it and self-esteem suffers. The simplest form of this betrayal is the evasion of discomfiting facts. For example:
“I know I am not giving my job my best, but I don’t want to think about it.”
“I know there are signs our business is falling into worse and worse trouble, but what we’ve done worked in the past, didn’t it? Anyway the whole subject is upsetting, and maybe if I sit tight the situation will resolve itself—somehow.”
“‘Legitimate grievances?’ What ‘legitimate grievances?’ My spouse has been influenced by those crazy women’s libbers. That’s why she’s beating up on me.”
“I know my children suffer from having so little of me, I know I am causing hurt and resentment, but one day—somehow—I’ll change.”
“What do you mean, I drink too much? I can stop anytime I want.”
“I know the way I eat is wrecking my health, but—”
“I know I’m living beyond my means, but—”
“I know I’m phony and lie about my accomplishments, but—”
Through the thousands of choices we make between thinking and nonthinking, being responsible toward reality or evading it, we establish a sense of the kind of person we are. Consciously, we rarely remember these choices. But deep in our psyche they are added up, and the sum is that experience we call “self-esteem.” Self-esteem is the reputation we acquire with ourselves.
We are not all equal in intelligence, but intelligence is not the issue. The principle of living consciously is unaffected by degrees of intelligence. To live consciously means to seek to be aware of everything that bears on our actions, purposes, values, and goals—to the best of our ability, whatever that ability may be—and to behave in accordance with that which we see and know.
The Betrayal of Consciousness
This last point bears emphasis. Consciousness that is not translated into appropriate action is a betrayal of consciousness; it is mind invalidating itself. Living consciously means more than seeing and knowing; it means acting on what one sees and knows. Thus, I can recognize that I have been unfair and hurtful to my child (or my spouse or my friend) and need to make amends. But I don’t want to admit I made a mistake, so I procrastinate, claiming that I am still “thinking” about the situation. This is the opposite of living consciously. At a fundamental level, it is an avoidance of consciousness—avoidance of the meaning of what I am doing; avoidance of my motives; avoidance of my continuing cruelty.
Possible Misunderstandings
Let me anticipate and address possible misunderstandings about the application of the principle of living consciously.
1. It is in the nature of human learning that we automate new knowledge and skills, such as speaking a language or driving an automobile, so that they do not continue to require of us the level of explicit awareness that was necessary during the learning stage. As mastery is attained, they drop into the accumulated repertoire of the subconscious—thus freeing the conscious mind for the new and unfamiliar. Living consciously does not mean that we retain in explicit awareness everything we ever learned, which would be neither possible nor desirable.
2. To be operating consciously—to be in appropriate mental focus—does not mean that we must be engaged in some task of problem solving every moment of our waking existence. We may choose to meditate, for example, emptying our mind of all thought to make ourselves available to new possibilities of relaxation, rejuvenation, creativity, insight, or some form of transcendence. This can be an entirely appropriate mental activity—in fact, in some contexts, a highly desirable one. And, of course, there are still other alternatives to problem solving, such as creative daydreaming or abandonment to physical playfulness or erotic sensation. In matters of mental functioning, context determines appropriateness. To operate consciously does not mean always to be in the same mental state but rather to be in the state appropriate to what I am doing. If, for example, I am tumbling on the floor with a child, my mental state will obviously be very different from what it is when I am working on a book. But that I am operating consciously will show up in the fact that no matter how playfully silly I may become, part of my mind is monitoring the situation to see that the child remains physically safe. If, in contrast, I am oblivious to the fact that I am playing too hard and hurting the child, my level of consciousness is inadequate to the situation. The point is that the issue of the appropriateness of my state of consciousness can only be determined relative to my purposes. There is no “right” or “wrong” state in a vacuum.
3. Given the countless number of things in our world of which it is theoretically possible to be conscious, awareness clearly involves a process of selection. In choosing to attend here, I implicitly choose not to attend elsewhere—at least in this moment. Sitting at my computer and writing this book, I am relatively oblivious to the rest of my environment. If I shift my focus, I become aware of the sound of passing automobiles, the sound of a child shouting and a dog barking. In another instant all that will be lost to conscious awareness and my mind will be absorbed by the words on my computer screen and the words forming in my mind. My purpose and values dictate the standard of selection.
When I am writing, I am often in a state of such concentration as to be trancelike; a ruthless process of selection is at work, but within that context I would say I am operating at a high level of consciousness. However, if, without changing my state, still preoccupied with my thoughts and oblivious to my external environment, I were to drive my automobile, I could be charged with operating at a dangerously low level of consciousness because I had not adapted to the change of context and purpose. To say it once more: Only context can determine what mind-state is appropriate.
Being Res
ponsible Toward Reality
Living consciously implies respect for the facts of reality. This means the facts of our inner world (needs, wants, emotions) as well as of the outer world. This contrasts with that disrespect for reality contained in an attitude that amounts to, “If I don’t choose to see it or acknowledge it, it doesn’t exist.”
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When we live consciously we do not imagine that our feelings are an infallible guide to truth.
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Living consciously is living responsibly toward reality. We do not necessarily have to like what we see, but we recognize that that which is, is, and that which is not, is not. Wishes or fears or denials do not alter facts. If I desire a new outfit but need the money for rent, my desire does not transform reality and make the purchase rational. If I fear an operation my physician assures me is necessary to save my life, my fear does not mean I will live equally well without the operation. If a statement is true, my denying it will not make it false.
Thus, when we live consciously we do not confuse the subjective with the objective. We do not imagine that our feelings are an infallible guide to truth. We can learn from our feelings, to be sure, and they may even point us in the direction of important facts, but this will entail reflection and reality testing, and this entails the participation of reason.
This understood, let us look more closely at what the practice of living consciously includes.
The Specifics of Living Consciously
Living consciously entails:
A mind that is active rather than passive.
An intelligence that takes joy in its own function.
Being “in the moment,” without losing the wider context.
Reaching out toward relevant facts rather than withdrawing from them.
Being concerned to distinguish among facts, interpretations, and emotions.
Noticing and confronting my impulses to avoid or deny painful or threatening realities.
Being concerned to know “where I am” relative to my various (personal and professional) goals and projects, and whether I am succeeding or failing.
Being concerned to know if my actions are in alignment with my purposes.
Searching for feedback from the environment so as to adjust or correct my course when necessary.
Persevering in the attempt to understand in spite of difficulties.
Being receptive to new knowledge and willing to reexamine old assumptions.
Being willing to see and correct mistakes.
Seeking always to expand awareness—a commitment to learning—therefore, a commitment to growth as a way of life.
A concern to understand the world around me.
A concern to know not only external reality but also internal reality, the reality of my needs, feelings, aspirations, and motives, so that I am not a stranger or a mystery to myself.
A concern to be aware of the values that move and guide me, as well as their roots, so that I am not ruled by values I have irrationally adopted or uncritically accepted from others.
Let us look at each of these items in turn.
A mind that is active rather than passive. Here we deal with the most fundamental act of self-assertion: the choice to think, to seek awareness, understanding, knowledge, clarity.
Implicit in this orientation is another self-esteem virtue, that of self-responsibility. Since I am responsible for my own existence and happiness, I choose to be conscious and to be guided by the clearest understanding of which I am capable. I do not indulge in the fantasy that someone else can spare me the necessity of thought or make my decisions for me.
An intelligence that takes joy in its own function. The natural inclination of a child is to take pleasure in the use of mind no less than of body. The child’s primary business is learning. It is also the primary entertainment. To retain that orientation into adulthood, so that consciousness is not a burden but a joy, is the mark of a successfully developed human being.
Of course, as adults we cannot choose to feel pleasure in the assertion of consciousness if for one reason or another we associate it with fear, pain, or exhausting effort. But anyone who has persevered, overcome such barriers, and learned to live more consciously will say that such learning becomes an increasingly greater source of satisfaction.
Being “in the moment,” without losing the wider context. Contained in the idea of living consciously is that of being present to what one is doing. If I am listening to the complaint of a customer, being present to the experience. If I am playing with my child, being present to the activity. If I am working with a psychotherapy client, being with the client and not somewhere else. Doing what I am doing while I am doing it.
This does not mean that my awareness is reduced only to immediate sensory experience, disconnected from the wider context of my knowledge. If I cannot remain related to that wider context, my consciousness is impoverished. I wish to be in the moment but not trapped in the moment. This is the balance that allows me to be in the most resourceful state.
Reaching out toward relevant facts rather than withdrawing from them. What determines “relevance” is my needs, wants, values, goals, and actions. Do I stay alert to and curious about any information that might cause me to modify my course or correct my assumptions, or do I proceed on the premise that there is nothing new for me to learn? Do I continually seek out new data actively that might be helpful, or do I close my eyes to it even when it is presented? We do not have to ask which option is the more empowering.
Being concerned to distinguish among facts, interpretations, and emotions. I see you frowning; I interpret this to mean you are angry with me; I feel hurt or defensive or wronged. In reality, I may be correct or incorrect in my interpretation. I may be appropriate or inappropriate in the feeling with which I respond. In any event, separate and distinct processes are involved. If I am not conscious of this, I tend to treat my feelings as the voice of reality, which can lead me to disaster.
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Fear and pain should be treated as signals not to close our eyes but to open them wider.
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Or again, I hear that physicists are struggling with a problem they find insurmountable (let us assume this is so); I interpret this to mean that reason and science have failed; I feel disheartened and disturbed, or elated and triumphant (depending on my other philosophical beliefs). In reality, all that is established is that physicists say they are stuck on a problem. The rest is what my mind makes of it, which may be rational or irrational, but which in either case says more about me than about external reality.
To live consciously, I need to be sensitive to these distinctions. What I perceive, what I interpret it to mean, and how I feel about it are three separate questions. If I do not distinguish among them, my grounding in reality becomes the first casualty. Which means my efficacy becomes the first casualty.
Noticing and confronting my impulses to avoid or deny painful or threatening realities. Nothing is more natural than to avoid what evokes fear or pain. Since this includes facts our self-interest requires us to face and consider, we may have to override avoidance impulses. But this requires that we be aware of such impulses. What we need then is an orientation of self-examination and self-awareness—of consciousness directed inward as well as outward. Part of living consciously is being on guard against the sometimes seductive pull of unconsciousness; this asks for the most ruthless honesty of which we are capable. Fear and pain should be treated as signals not to close our eyes but to open them wider, not to look away but to look more attentively. This is far from an easy or effortless task. It is unrealistic to imagine that we will always execute it perfectly. But there will be great differences among us with regard to the sincerity of our intention; and degrees matter. Self-esteem asks not for flawless success but for the earnest intention to be conscious.
Being concerned to know “where I am” relative to my various (personal and professional) goals and projects, and whether I am succeeding or failing.
If one of my goals is to have a successful and satisfying marriage, what is the present state of my marriage? Do I know? Would my partner and I answer the same way? Are my partner and I happy with each other? Are there frustrations and unresolved issues? If so, what am I doing about them? Do I have an action plan, or am I merely hoping that “somehow” things will improve? If one of my aspirations is one day to have my own business, what am I doing about it? Am I closer to that goal than I was a month ago or a year ago? Am I on track or off? If one of my ambitions is to be a professional writer, where am I at present relative to the fulfillment of that ambition? What am I doing to actualize it? Will I be closer to fulfillment next year than this year? If so, why? Am I bringing as much consciousness to my projects as I need to?
Being concerned to know if my actions are in alignment with my purposes. This issue is closely related to the preceding one. Sometimes there was great lack of congruence between what we say our goals or purposes are and how we invest our time and energy. That which we profess to care about most may get least from us in attention—whereas that which we say matters much less receives far more from us. So living consciously entails monitoring my actions relative to my goals, looking for evidence of alignment or misalignment. If there is misalignment, either my actions or my goals need to be rethought.
Searching for feedback from the environment so as to adjust or correct my course when necessary. When a pilot flies from Los Angeles to New York, he or she is always slightly off course. This information, called feedback, is relayed back via instruments so that continuing adjustments are made to keep the plane on the right path. In the conduct of our life and the pursuit of our goals, we cannot safely set our course once and remain blind thereafter. The potential always exists that new information will require an adjustment of our plans and intentions.
The Six Pillars of Self-Esteem Page 9
