What exactly are we referring to when we use the word
“I?” The average person, in every country and language on Earth,
speaks or thinks their native version of “I" hundreds of times every day,
probably more often. “I” has opinions about everything – it loves
cookies and hates tofu, believes in God but not the Devil, selects a Classical,
Jazz or Rock and Roll station on the radio, passing news, call-in programs
and foreign language broadcasts with little more than a contemptuous jab
of the tuner. Sufficiently challenged by the holders of contrary
opinions, “I” takes a stand, tenaciously defending its position even to
the point of waging war on “not-I” opponents it perceives as a threat to
its way of life…
So, do our tastes and opinions define us? Think
back to the opinionated stands you took when rebelling against your parents
as a teen – are those still your beliefs? How about your first love,
to whom you swore eternal ardor? Is you heart still burning?
Are you eating and rejecting the same foods today that you did at age 10,
20, 30? Does the personality you label “I” today bear even a vague
resemblance to the “I” you were 10, 20 or 30 years ago? As was discussed
in Part I of this book, most or all of our tastes and opinions reflect
memes that enter our brains through imitation, and which are therefore
both constantly changing and in no way unique or intrinsic to us as individuals.
When we say “I,” are we simply refer-ring to our personal memeplex?
Maybe “I” means our physical bodies. While our
personalities surely change over time, our bodies at every age remain unique
and ours alone, wholly separate and easily distinguishable from the bodies
of others… right?
Some facts to ponder:
When we notice an unpleasant odor in a restroom, we detect the smell because tiny particles expelled from the last tenant's body are still present, floating invisibly in the air around us. Our brains register the odor as the suspended particles enter our nostrils on their way to our lungs. Even as our noses crinkle in displeasure, we are physically absorbing cast off pieces of the "offender" into our own bodies.
Every meal we eat contains exfoliated skin cells shed by the cook.
The tap water we drink today is the same water our neighbor showered in yesterday, with only a single trip through the public water treatment plant between uses.
The Earth's hydraulic cycle of rain-evaporation-rain has continuously recycled the same water for eons, with the result that water we consume today, and which accounts, on average, for 50-65% of our total physical composition, will have been ingested, excreted and otherwise made use of by literally billions of people, plants and animals at some time in Earth’s history. The same is true of the oxygen and carbon dioxide exchanged through respiration by all plants and animals, humans included.
Since matter can neither be created nor destroyed, every carbon, oxygen, hydrogen and nitrogen atom our bodies are made from has physically participated in the composition of many other creatures and things during the 12 to 20 billion years since the universe came into being. The atoms composing our bodies are not only like the atoms other people, plants, animals, planets, stars, galaxies etc. have been made from throughout all space and time, they literally are the same atoms being recycled and exchanged between arising and decaying forms.
Quantum Physics proves that whenever two subatomic particles, such as protons, neutrons, elec-trons, quarks, or photons interact, they become, in strange, yet physically real and empirically measurable ways, permanently linked, exerting a continuous influence on one another regardless of the distance that may grow between them after their initial interaction. Since, before the Big Bang, all the matter and energy in the universe was compacted into a single, infinitely small space, the materials we and the plants and animals of Earth, the Earth itself, the stars, galaxies, and the universe in all its glory are made from have been intimately “entangled” since the beginning of time. Every-thing is connected to and effects everything else. On the quantum level, your neighbor literally is yourself, and what you do unto others you do, not only to yourself, but to everything everywhere.
Where our bodies end and our environment begins is an
arbitrary distinction, based far more on our psychol-ogical desire to feel
separate from others and unique in the world than on any evidence of real
physical auton-omy. All life on Earth combines to form a single
fragile, intimately interconnected membrane called the biosphere that envelopes
the entire surface of the planet, extending from the ocean floor to approximately
six miles overhead. Within that membrane's seething soup of chemical
exchange, plants, animals and people are no more individually distinguishable
than are the cells comprising our own bodies, which may appear singular
and unique beneath the microscope, but which, in Nature, only fulfill their
true function corporately, in the exchange and transformation of substances
in service to a larger whole.
So, if "I" can't be defined by our tastes and opinions,
or by the only-apparently-distinct boundaries of our physical bodies, then
what is it?
Is "I" our mind? What's that? If we exclude
from our definition of "mind" all personal tastes and opinions, all the
externally-acquired, memetic content of our brains, and the entire
meme-driven process of comparison, prioritization and the assignment of
meaning we mistake for real thought, what's left? Maybe the pure,
pre-meme consciousness with which we were born, unsoiled as it was by any
acquired knowledge of the world outside the womb… But even if such
original awareness still exists somewhere deep within our adult brains,
perhaps buried beneath our personal crushing load of acquired memes and
memeplexes, can such a profoundly mystical self-concept really be what
we mean when we say, "I think...," "I feel…," "I am…" "I want…" or "I believe…?”
in an ordin-ary, everyday context?
Our personal tastes, our bodies, our minds… When
we say "I," do we mean all of these things? None of them? Does
our definition of "I" change, maybe alternating between the various options,
depending on our situation? Does any permanent and unchanging "I"
actually exist within us?
Who do you think you are?
KEY QUESTION EXERCISE #3
Role Play
Carry your notepad and pen with you for seven consecutive days.
During this time, record all of the roles you observe yourself playing
in relation to other people, and also to animals, plants, and even non-living
"entities" like corporations and governments. Assign a one-word name
to each role, such as father, mother, sister, brother, son, daughter, husband,
wife, lover, friend, enemy, boss, employee, bully, victim, teacher, student,
caretaker, abuser, salesman, artist, citizen, etc. the first time you observe
its appearance, and write that word at the top of a fresh page. Throughout
the week, each time you are called on to play a particular role, note the
length of time invested in the specific activity, conversation etc. on
the appropriate page, always beginning a new page whenever a genuinely
unique role is identified (NOTE: Don't sub-divide roles too narrowly, i.e.,
while fathering a daughter, fathering a son and playing a fatherly role
with a friend or someone else's child can require very different investments
of time and energy, record them all under father). At the end of
the week, add up the total times for each page to determine the five dominant
roles currently shaping your definition of "I."
When the week is done, leave your notepad at home, but keep your five
dominant roles at the forefront of your mind. For the seven days
following the written discovery phase of this exercise, each time you are
called on to play one of your primary roles, do the following:
Externally: Play the role. Do what you would normally do in the situation, just as if you were not aware that a formal role is involved. The fact that you are aware and paying conscious attention to what you're doing will make the interaction a bit awkward, especially when you first begin working with this exercise, but don't make any intentional efforts to change your behavior. Don't do what you think you "should do" in the situation, just because someone (you!) is watching. To the best of your ability, be "yourself" in a way that both you and the person, animal or "entity" you're inter-acting with will comfortably recognize.
Internally: Remove "I" from the interaction. Everyone's automatic habit when called to play a role – a habit learned very young, and usually hidden by adulthood well beneath the level of words or even conscious thought – is to immediately "attach our I" by becoming personally identified with the character we are being called to play, thinking/feeling/believing "I am fathering," "I am mothering," "I am being a friend," "I am selling," etc. We step into the role like an actor taking the stage, inhabiting it on a deeply personal level, and often deriving a powerful sense of pride, control, intimacy, etc. from playing our prescribed part in life's drama. Instead of allowing identification to absorb your sense of self, at your first inkling of "I am…," step back from personal investment and gently redirect your thoughts to the intentional, silent repetition of the impersonal one word label you assigned to the role in week one – father… father… father…, mother… mother… mother…, salesman… salesman… salesman…
In each real world situation you encounter, sincerely play the part
of a father, a mother, a salesman, an employee, the boss, an attentive
lover, a good friend, etc. as closely as you can manage to the way you
would have had you not been aware that a designated role was involved,
but without allowing "I am…” to sweep you into mental and emotional absorption.
In a sense, instead of simply playing the comfortable roles you routinely
move between in the course of a week, when working with the Role Play exercise,
play yourself playing those roles. Repetition of the impersonal,
one word label you assigned to each role can help you create and maintain
some psychic distance.
At the end of each day, record any insights gained into yourself and
others, as well as new information you discerned concerning the roles that
occupy the lion's share of your time. Late on day seven, having gained
considerable first-hand experience playing yourself playing various roles,
spend some time journaling your response to these questions:
1. If I can play myself playing a role, is not "myself,” then, also a role?
2. When "I" am playing "me," who or what is "I?"
Two notes of caution are in order concerning this exercise:
First, while simply reading the instructions above can easily
trigger an intellectual “aha!” moment, don’t let such a minor mental “rush”
fool you into thinking that you have understood this chapter and are ready
to move on. Invest the time. Research and play the roles.
Observe yourself and record your findings. While “aha!” moments often
produce memetic shocks and shifts within our minds that mimic insight,
only personally verifying the truth underlying this exercise by living
it out in real time can produce genuine metanoia, that complete psychic
transformation capable of immunizing our brains against memetic infection.
Don’t settle for less!
Secondly, please keep in mind that freaking out the people closest
to you is in no way the goal or purpose of the Role Play exercise – though
that’s a likely outcome if you go around telling everybody you’re “… just
playing myself today…,” or otherwise indicate a sense of obvious “depersonalization”
in your interactions with them. The goal must be pure self-discovery,
and never the alienation of others. If you are playing your role
well, no one will notice that you are playing at all. If anyone but you
becomes aware of what you’re up to, stop. Rethink your approach to
the exercise. Begin again another day or among a different group
of people.
In Key Question Community groups, after everyone has had an opportunity
to perform the Role Play exercise on an individual basis, gather in a private
setting to discuss your results. As each member reports to the group,
apply the following guidelines:
1. Individual reports should be delivered in the Third Person, with references to roles labeled impersonally, i.e., “Then father said…,” “Then mother went…,” “Then friend decided…” etc., and with the reporter’s “observing self” who witnessed and played out the various roles referred to as “He,” “She” or “IT” as appropriate. The word “I” is strictly verboten.
2. As individual reports are delivered, the rest of the group should ask questions and make observations or constructive comments – but all commentary from the group must be delivered in the First Person of the reporter (not themselves), and must maintain the use of impersonal role labels, i.e., “Did I notice that when father said…,” “Was I disappointed when mother left…,” “I may have been deceiving myself when friend decided…,” etc. All references to the person offering the observation or comment are prohibited.
This can be a very difficult "game" to play at first, as both communicating
without using the word "I" (the reporter) and saying "I" solely in reference
to somebody other than oneself (the group) is guaranteed to drive everyone's
brain headlong into a wall of psychic inertia created by a lifetime of
putting ourselves at the center of every thought, event and story.
Since everyone will take a turn reporting on their experiences from the
individual phase of the exercise, every member of the group will get a
chance to try on both perspectives, and to switch between them. Commit
in advance as a group to take mistakes with good humor, and keep going.
Make note of difficulties as well as successes along the way, mining each
for the insights they have to reveal.
Once the group breaks through to a plateau of comfort inhabiting an
“alternate-I universe,” maintain the balance as long as you can.
When everyone has had an opportunity to report, or if the energy begins
to noticeably dwindle before the game's natural completion, agree together
to return en masse to standard self-referencing pronoun communication and
thought. Drop the game and return to ordinary social conversation.
Each member should note his or her feelings as the “I-ward” shift occurs
– Was it easy? Difficult? A relief? Frightening?
How did the experience of "trading I's" impact your post-game ability to
comfortably "be yourself?"