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Authors: Ezra Bayda
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thing about how we perceive and shape our lives through the filter of core decisions made long ago is that we tend to emphasize what is most negative about ourselves. We embrace the negative view of who we are as our deepest truth, as what will never, ever change. Our core belief might be “I’m basically flawed,” or “I’ll never measure up,” or “I’m utterly hopeless,” or “I’m not worthy of love.” Whatever it is, it has great solidity in our believed thoughts. And because it influences almost everything we think and do, it narrows and restricts our life to one of unhealed pain.
Perhaps you’re wondering, isn’t this just psychology that we’re talking about? What does this have to do with “real” practice? The answer is simple and clear. Many of the barriers to leading a more open, more genuine, more giving life come directly from our psychologically rooted decisions. These decisions are like boundaries—boundaries that disconnect us from awareness of our true nature, our naturally open heart. The practice life is about seeing through our boundaries, our artificial separations of mind, our self-images, our “someone special to be.” To think that practice is about achieving some permanently enlightened state of mind—stillness or silence or whatever we want to call it—is really just a fantasy about practice. Practice has to include looking at our stuff. Living in this moment means that we’re willing to be with whatever this moment holds, including all the ways we are holding ourselves back due to decisions we made in the past.
However, unlike a psychological approach, which might be directed primarily toward changing or adjusting ourselves, practice is about experiencing . It’s about seeing the truth about the “self” who has constructed this substitute life. As we work in this way, we slowly dismantle this notion of a “self.” In fact, the most fundamental core belief of all is “I am a me,” with all of the consequent core pain of feeling separate. The more weare able to reside in this quiver of separation, the closer we come to seeing through its insubstantiality. This is the process whereby we open experientially into a vaster sense of Being.
But in order to experience this, we must begin to see how all-pervasive our decisions about ourselves are—and how mechanically we use our familiar strategies to reinforce these decisions over and over again. As we learn to recognize the imprint of our core beliefs on almost everything we think and do, we can see how this substitute life has become our reality.
That’s what the Zen teacher meant when he said to the student, “If you can really experience what is going on right now, you’ll understand the basic human problem.” Seeing that his strategy was to try to be on top, to be the “best,” to get the right answer, and to gain whatever he could from it, would show the student what his substitute life was about. When the teacher exposed his strategy and the student experienced great disappointment, the possibility opened up for him to understand that dynamic experientially. He could now see what was running his whole life.
Our emotional reactions are always tied to our substitute life and to our core decisions about what life is supposed to be. We all have expectations and requirements of ourselves, of others, of life. When these expectations are not met, we almost always experience disappointment in some form or another. Once we can see this dynamic—and this is where practice most departs from traditional psychology—we can enter into the next phase of practice. That is, we can learn to reside physically in the original hole that our substitute life is meant to cover and protect us from in the first place.
Suppose a man has made the basic decision, “My wife should take care of me.” After a difficult day at work, he’s looking forward to coming home to his mate so he can unburden himself. But when he walks into the
Perhaps you’re wondering, isn’t this just psychology that we’re talking about? What does this have to do with “real” practice? The answer is simple and clear. Many of the barriers to leading a more open, more genuine, more giving life come directly from our psychologically rooted decisions. These decisions are like boundaries—boundaries that disconnect us from awareness of our true nature, our naturally open heart. The practice life is about seeing through our boundaries, our artificial separations of mind, our self-images, our “someone special to be.” To think that practice is about achieving some permanently enlightened state of mind—stillness or silence or whatever we want to call it—is really just a fantasy about practice. Practice has to include looking at our stuff. Living in this moment means that we’re willing to be with whatever this moment holds, including all the ways we are holding ourselves back due to decisions we made in the past.
However, unlike a psychological approach, which might be directed primarily toward changing or adjusting ourselves, practice is about experiencing . It’s about seeing the truth about the “self” who has constructed this substitute life. As we work in this way, we slowly dismantle this notion of a “self.” In fact, the most fundamental core belief of all is “I am a me,” with all of the consequent core pain of feeling separate. The more weare able to reside in this quiver of separation, the closer we come to seeing through its insubstantiality. This is the process whereby we open experientially into a vaster sense of Being.
But in order to experience this, we must begin to see how all-pervasive our decisions about ourselves are—and how mechanically we use our familiar strategies to reinforce these decisions over and over again. As we learn to recognize the imprint of our core beliefs on almost everything we think and do, we can see how this substitute life has become our reality.
That’s what the Zen teacher meant when he said to the student, “If you can really experience what is going on right now, you’ll understand the basic human problem.” Seeing that his strategy was to try to be on top, to be the “best,” to get the right answer, and to gain whatever he could from it, would show the student what his substitute life was about. When the teacher exposed his strategy and the student experienced great disappointment, the possibility opened up for him to understand that dynamic experientially. He could now see what was running his whole life.
Our emotional reactions are always tied to our substitute life and to our core decisions about what life is supposed to be. We all have expectations and requirements of ourselves, of others, of life. When these expectations are not met, we almost always experience disappointment in some form or another. Once we can see this dynamic—and this is where practice most departs from traditional psychology—we can enter into the next phase of practice. That is, we can learn to reside physically in the original hole that our substitute life is meant to cover and protect us from in the first place.
Suppose a man has made the basic decision, “My wife should take care of me.” After a difficult day at work, he’s looking forward to coming home to his mate so he can unburden himself. But when he walks into the
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