Honesty and Dishonesty: Beyond the surface
The concepts of honesty and dishonesty, fidelity and infidelity, often evoke strong reactions from people, shaped by moral, cultural, and societal conditioning. These binaries dominate much of human interaction, creating judgments about what is right and wrong, what is ethical and unethical. However, when we delve deeper into these ideas, we begin to see that these distinctions are part of a broader illusion of duality—a construct that humanity has built over millennia to navigate the complexities of life.
The very act of labeling actions as “honest” or “dishonest,” “faithful” or “unfaithful” stems from a worldview that is bound by dualistic thinking. In such a worldview, life is divided into opposites—good and bad, right and wrong, true and false. Yet, as we explore the nature of consciousness and presence, it becomes clear that these dichotomies are not fixed, but rather fluid, shaped by the limited perceptions of the human mind.
At the heart of this inquiry lies the question: what happens when one operates with complete presence, in a state of being where the mind is free from the constructs of past and future, of moral judgments, and of conditioned responses? In such a state, does the very notion of honesty and dishonesty, fidelity and infidelity, dissolve? Can we transcend the dualities that dominate our understanding of reality? And if so, what does that reveal about the nature of the “real world” we think we live in?
In this exploration, we will dive deep into these questions, dissecting the nature of honesty, dishonesty, fidelity, and infidelity, and ultimately aiming to dissolve the myths and illusions that surround them.
From an early age, we are taught that honesty is a virtue, a moral standard by which we should live. To be honest is to tell the truth, to be transparent, and to act in alignment with what is considered ethical. Dishonesty, on the other hand, is seen as a vice—deceiving, hiding the truth, or acting in ways that betray trust. Society has built intricate structures around these concepts, embedding them in legal systems, educational frameworks, and interpersonal relationships.
However, what we often fail to recognize is that both honesty and dishonesty are constructed within the realm of thought. They are ideas that arise from the human mind, shaped by cultural and historical contexts. What may be considered honest in one culture could be viewed as dishonest in another. For instance, in some cultures, withholding certain information is seen as a way to protect others, while in other societies, it may be seen as deceit. Thus, honesty and dishonesty are not objective truths; they are relative concepts that depend on context, perception, and belief systems. This recognition opens the door to questioning the very foundations of these moral judgments.
Honesty and dishonesty, as we commonly understand them, are rooted in dualistic thinking—the division of the world into opposites. Duality, in this sense, is a mental construct that allows us to navigate the complexities of life. It simplifies the world into categories of right and wrong, true and false, and gives us a sense of control over the moral and ethical landscape we inhabit.
But this division is inherently limiting. It creates conflict, both internally and externally, because it forces us to align with one side of the dichotomy and reject the other. When we view honesty and dishonesty as fixed opposites, we become trapped in a cycle of judgment, always measuring ourselves and others against these standards.
In relationships, fidelity is often equated with loyalty, faithfulness, and commitment. To be faithful is to remain true to one’s partner, to honor the bond of trust that has been established. Infidelity, by contrast, is seen as a betrayal—a breaking of that trust, a violation of the commitment made. These concepts are deeply ingrained in societal norms and expectations, particularly in romantic and marital relationships.
However, like honesty and dishonesty, fidelity and infidelity are also socially constructed. The very notion of what it means to be faithful or unfaithful varies across cultures and historical periods. In some societies, monogamy is seen as the ultimate expression of fidelity, while in others, polygamy or open relationships are accepted norms. The rules that govern fidelity are not universal; they are shaped by cultural, religious, and personal beliefs.
At the heart of fidelity and infidelity lies the idea of ownership—ownership of another person’s body, mind, and emotions. When we commit to a relationship, particularly in the context of marriage or long-term partnership, there is often an implicit expectation that we “own” each other in some way. This ownership manifests in the form of expectations about exclusivity, loyalty, and the boundaries of the relationship.
But this notion of ownership is illusory. No one can truly own another person, and attempting to do so creates a sense of possessiveness that is rooted in fear and insecurity. Fidelity, when seen through the lens of ownership, becomes a way of controlling the other person, of ensuring that they remain within the boundaries we have set for them.
True love is not possessive or conditional. When we love someone, we do not seek to control them or to bind them to our expectations. Instead, we allow them the freedom to be who they are, without judgment or restriction. This kind of love transcends the dualities of fidelity and infidelity because it is not based on ownership or attachment.
Infidelity, when it occurs, is often seen as the ultimate betrayal. It brings up feelings of hurt, anger, and rejection. But from a deeper perspective, infidelity can be understood as a mirror—an opportunity to examine the underlying dynamics of the relationship and the expectations that have been placed on it.
When someone is unfaithful, it is not necessarily a reflection of their character or moral standing. Rather, it can be a reflection of the unmet needs and desires that exist within the relationship. These unmet needs may be emotional, physical, or psychological, and they often stem from a lack of true connection or understanding between partners. Infidelity, in this sense, is not the cause of the problem but a symptom of deeper issues that have been ignored or suppressed. It forces us to confront the illusions we have built around relationships—the illusion of ownership, the illusion of permanence, and the illusion of control.
To operate with 100% presence in the moment is to be fully aware, fully engaged, and fully alive in the here and now. It means to live without the interference of past conditioning or future projections, to see reality as it is, without the filters of judgment, expectation, or attachment. Presence is the state of pure awareness, where the mind is not divided into opposites, and the self is not fragmented by thought. When we are truly present, the concepts of honesty and dishonesty, fidelity and infidelity, dissolve. In the state of presence, there is no division between right and wrong, true and false, because these are constructs of the mind. Presence transcends duality and brings us into direct contact with reality as it is—without the distortions of thought or emotion.
In the state of presence, honesty and dishonesty lose their meaning. Honesty is often defined as telling the truth, but what is truth? Truth, in its most profound sense, is not a fixed concept; it is fluid, dynamic, and constantly changing. When we are present, we do not cling to fixed ideas of truth or falsehood; we simply respond to the reality of the moment. Dishonesty, in this sense, is not about lying or deceiving others. It is about being out of alignment with the present moment—about acting from a place of conditioning, fear, or attachment, rather than from a place of awareness. When we are fully present, there is no need for dishonesty because we are in harmony with the flow of life. We do not need to manipulate or control the situation; we simply respond with clarity and integrity.
The concept of fidelity, too, dissolves when one operates in the present moment with full awareness. Fidelity, in its conventional sense, is often tied to promises, contracts, and the expectation of a continuous future. In relationships, it becomes a pledge to behave in certain ways over time, to stay within defined boundaries, and to remain “true” to another person. But these pledges are built upon mental constructs and future projections—on an imagined continuity that is bound by time and expectation.
When one is fully present, these future projections lose their weight, and fidelity is no longer about promises made for tomorrow but about the authenticity of being in relationship here and now. In presence, fidelity is not something forced or negotiated, but an expression of truth in the moment. One cannot be unfaithful in presence because one is not operating from a divided mind that clings to past commitments or fears future betrayals. Instead, there is simply an unfolding of truth as it is, unconditioned by the past and unconcerned with future outcomes.
Infidelity, often seen as the antithesis of fidelity, also loses its traditional meaning when approached from a place of presence. Infidelity typically arises from dissatisfaction, a feeling that something is lacking in the current relationship or situation. This dissatisfaction propels one to seek fulfillment elsewhere, outside the bounds of the established relationship. But what is at the root of this dissatisfaction? Often, it is the mind’s attachment to desires, projections, and unexamined needs that fuel the urge to look beyond the present relationship. In presence, there is no room for such projections. The mind, when it is fully attuned to the present, does not dwell on what is lacking or seek fulfillment outside of what is unfolding in the here and now. When one is present with a partner or in any relationship, the relationship is no longer bound by the rigid labels of fidelity and infidelity. There is simply a connection, a flow of being, that is not controlled by societal norms or personal insecurities. In this way, presence dissolves the very constructs that give rise to infidelity, not by imposing rules or boundaries, but by making them irrelevant.
Into the Heart of Now: “NOW” Unveiled
We are what we are doing right now” taps into the philosophical and psychological realms of existence, perception, and human behaviour. Going further, we begin to see a confluence of various factors, which draw us away from the present moment, and push us into the embrace of either the past or the future. At the very heart of human existence is our incessant need to find meaning. We seek purpose, direction, and a sense of understanding about our lives. This pursuit often becomes a bridge connecting the past, present, and future. Our past experiences, both triumphant and traumatic, linger in our minds, continuously shaping our present perceptions. They become stories we tell ourselves, lessons we’ve learned, and at times, scars that haven’t fully healed. The future, on the other hand, represents our hopes, fears, dreams, and anxieties. It’s a canvas upon which we project our desires and apprehensions.
The expectation of outcomes is an inherent human trait. It is rooted in our evolutionary drive for predictability and control. For our ancestors, predicting potential dangers and outcomes was a matter of survival. Over millennia, this instinct has got inculcated with our complex cognitive structures, resulting in our modern-day anxieties about the future and ruminations on the past. However, the irony lies in the fact that the more we seek to control outcomes, the more we find ourselves entangled in a web of expectations. These expectations often lead to inner conflicts. When the present doesn’t align with our anticipated future, dissatisfaction ensues. And when the weight of past regrets is heavy, it dims the light of the present. Furthermore, the very act of striving to stay in the ‘now’ can itself become a source of distraction. If one is perpetually conscious about remaining anchored in the present, then this very consciousness becomes a barrier. The effort to stay present can sometimes be as distracting as the past memories or future anxieties that pull us away.
In today’s world, there’s also the influence of societal structures and norms. We live in societies that prize outcomes—success is often defined not by the journey, but by the destination. From a young age, we’re conditioned to focus on results, whether it’s grades in school or milestones in personal and professional lives. This societal molding further deepens our attachment to outcomes and amplifies our detachment from the present.
It is also crucial to understand the role of human consciousness in shaping our experience of time. Our consciousness is not just a passive observer; it actively constructs our sense of reality. Every moment we live is filtered through a myriad of cognitive processes, memories, and emotions. This complexity means that we often don’t experience the world “as it is” but rather “as we are.”
Neurologically speaking, our brain’s default mode network, an intricate web of interconnected brain regions, becomes most active when our attention is not occupied by tasks. This network is linked with thinking about others, thinking about oneself, remembering the past, and planning for the future. Thus, even when we aim to be in the present, our brains often naturally drift towards contemplations of the past and future. The challenges in remaining present can also be attributed to our cognitive structures, which include biases, such as the “negativity bias” – our innate human tendency to give more weight to negative experiences than positive ones. This bias can cause past traumas or failures to overshadow current joys, anchoring us in bygone moments of pain or disappointment. On the other hand, the future holds the allure of the unknown. This uncertainty can be both enticing and anxiety-inducing. Our modern societies, with their rapid changes and technological advancements, amplify this by creating an environment where change is the only constant. The evolving landscapes of our personal and professional lives mean that the future is more unpredictable than ever, making it a potent magnet for our attention and energy. Yet, amidst these complexities, lies a simple truth: the only tangible reality is the present. While memories shape and color our past and aspirations carve out our perceived futures, the ‘now’ is the only temporal space where action occurs, where life is truly lived.
Let’s explore this further!
What if “Now” encapsulates everything – past, present, and future ? This perspective challenges traditional temporal distinctions or divisions we create in and between Past, Present and Future. This viewpoint reframes our understanding of time and our place within its continuum. When we speak of living in the now, it’s often portrayed as a juxtaposition against being lost in memories of the past or anxieties about the future. However, what if everything is indeed a part of the “now” ?
Imagine time as a vast river. In this river, every drop of water represents a moment. While some drops are behind us (the past) and others ahead (the future), they all collectively belong to the river, which is the “now”. In this perspective, the entirety of existence – our memories, current experiences, and anticipations – are interconnected and concurrently present in an expansive “now”. From this viewpoint, distractions aren’t diversions from the present moment; they are simply different facets of the ever-expanding “now”. The reminiscences of a childhood memory or the contemplation about a future event are as much a part of our current experience as the sensation of the chair we’re sitting on. Every thought, emotion, and sensation, regardless of the temporal context it references, emerges and is experienced in the present moment.
The division we often make between the past, present, and future might be a result of our cognitive architecture. The human mind, in its quest for order and understanding, categorizes experiences. This compartmentalization aids in processing complex information. For instance, labeling an experience as a “memory” helps us contextualize it, discern lessons from it, or even prevent future mistakes. Similarly, projecting into the future can be a survival mechanism, allowing us to anticipate potential threats or opportunities.
However, by understanding that everything occurs in the “now”, we can achieve a form of holistic consciousness. This realization offers liberation. It frees us from the confines of linear temporality and allows a more integrated experience of existence. Such a perspective is echoed in various spiritual and philosophical traditions. For instance, in Eastern philosophies, there’s an emphasis on the interconnectedness of all things, where dichotomies are more apparent than real. Yet, while this concept is enlightening, it’s also challenging. Our societal structures, languages, and even our neurobiology are geared towards a linear understanding of time. Overcoming this deeply ingrained perspective requires consistent introspection and possibly even a paradigm shift in our consciousness.
Let’s delve deeper into the expansive Present:
Linear time, where events occur in a sequence from past to present to future, might be more of a cognitive construct than an intrinsic property of the universe. Physics, especially in the realm of relativity and quantum mechanics, has already shown us that time doesn’t always behave in the ways our everyday experiences might suggest. The famous physicist John Wheeler once proposed the idea of a “participatory universe,” suggesting that observers play a role in shaping their own realities, which includes the experience of time. Every thought, emotion, or memory we experience happens in the present moment of consciousness. Even when we recall a past event or anticipate a future one, that activity occurs in the current moment of awareness. This raises the idea that consciousness itself might be beyond time. It’s a continuous stream where “past” and “future” are merely parts of the grander “now.”
If we fully embrace the idea that everything is part of the “now,” it alters how we relate to our experiences. Regret, nostalgia, anxiety, and hope, which are emotions anchored in our traditional understanding of time, undergo a transformation. For example, instead of feeling regretful for a past decision, understanding its occurrence in the vastness of “now” might lead to acceptance and integration of that experience. Memory plays a crucial role in our understanding of time. Our memories, though referencing past events, are dynamic and malleable. They’re reconstructed every time we recall them. In essence, every time we remember something, we’re experiencing it anew in the present moment. This blurs the boundaries between past events and current experiences, reinforcing the idea of an all-encompassing “now.” While the concept is philosophically and spiritually enriching, it poses challenges in our day-to-day lives dominated by schedules, deadlines, and plans. How does one reconcile the linear demands of modern life with a non-linear understanding of time? This balance requires us to function efficiently in the world while internally maintaining an awareness of the deeper, interconnected reality.
Let’s delve further into More finer details: what if we kill “Now”?
When we speak of “killing” the now, we’re essentially talking about transcending our typical awareness of time and moving into a state of pure being, a consciousness unfettered by the confines of temporal experience. The idea that time itself might be an illusion is not new. From the ancient Eastern philosophies to cutting-edge quantum mechanics, there are suggestions that what we experience as the flow of time might be a cognitive and perceptual construct. Our brains organize experiences in a linear fashion, from cause to effect, creating the sense of a flowing river of moments, from the past, through the present, and into the future. But if we could step outside this stream, what would consciousness look like? If we “kill” the now, we’re essentially trying to access a state of pure awareness—a consciousness devoid of content, without thoughts, perceptions, or sensations. Many meditative practices aim to reach this state, often described as “thoughtless awareness” or “contentless consciousness.” In this state, the meditator isn’t focused on any particular thing (like the breath, a mantra, or an image), but instead simply exists. It’s a state of being rather than doing.
Attempting to attain a state of pure awareness can be paradoxical. The very effort to reach this state can prevent one from achieving it, as effort and intention are temporal and future-oriented in nature. It’s like trying to smooth turbulent water with one’s hand—the act of trying only creates more turbulence. It requires a letting go rather than a striving, a surrender rather than a pursuit. To “kill” the now is to step beyond dualities—the past and future, cause and effect, self and other. This is a realm often spoken of in mysticism and spirituality, where one transcends the perceived divisions of existence. It’s a state of unity, of oneness, where the individual self melts away into the all-encompassing whole.
While these states of consciousness can be transformative, they can be challenging to maintain in our everyday, pragmatic world. Our society operates on schedules, plans, and routines. However, even fleeting experiences of this transcendent state can profoundly affect our daily lives. It can offer insights, change perspectives, and create a deep-seated sense of peace. From the perspective of many ancient traditions, the universe is in a constant dance of creation and destruction. The “now” that we experience is just one beat of this cosmic dance. To “kill” the now is not to negate or nullify it, but to merge with the dance itself, to become one with the rhythm of existence.
Understanding the fleeting nature of “Happiness”
Realising you’re happy and consequently puncturing that happiness—is a manifestation of the self-reflexive quality of human consciousness. It reflects our ability not only to experience emotions but also to have thoughts about those experiences, including the experience of happiness. At the most immediate level, we have sensory experiences and emotional reactions. These are our raw, unfiltered engagements with the world around us. But atop this immediate experience, we have a secondary layer of experience: our thoughts about our experiences. This secondary layer is where we interpret, judge, anticipate, and reflect.
The paradox here is that this second layer of experience can intrude upon and alter the first. By realizing we’re happy, we move the experience of happiness from the immediate realm into the realm of reflection and analysis. This can have a distancing effect, making the happiness less vivid and more abstract. The “self” that is experiencing happiness is no longer fully integrated with the experience; part of it has stepped aside to observe.
The awareness of happiness can also bring about a sense of sadness or melancholy. This is because our reflective consciousness is not only evaluative but also temporal; it exists in time. When we realize we’re happy, we also realize that the moment is fleeting, that it will pass. This injects a sense of loss or nostalgia into the current experience, dampening the happiness with a layer of sadness. There’s also the pressure that once identified, the feeling of happiness must be maintained, which turns it into an object of concern.
In some Eastern philosophies, for example, the ultimate state of happiness or enlightenment is one that transcends both happiness and sadness, existing in a state of pure “beingness” that is beyond dualities. Western philosophies often engage deeply with the notion of existential angst, the idea that human freedom and awareness are both a gift and a curse, capable of both elevating and diminishing our experiences. Humans are narrative creatures. We don’t just experience things; we also construct stories around our experiences, which become a part of the experience itself. Realizing you’re happy can sometimes feel like a narrative high point, a climax. But climaxes are, by their nature, transitional; they mark the point where a story begins to move toward its conclusion. This can create a sense of impending descent, which can tinge even the most joyous moments with a shade of melancholy. There’s a compelling argument to be made for the richness added to our lives by our ability to reflect on our experiences. This meta-experience, the experience of experiencing, adds depth and texture to our lives. It’s the thing that allows us to appreciate art, to fall in love, to engage in complex moral reasoning. But it comes at a cost: the cost of immediacy. The more we reflect on our experiences, the less we’re able to engage with them directly. It’s like being the actor and the audience at the same time. This dual nature of consciousness is both a blessing and a curse. While it allows us the richness of introspection and self-awareness, it also sets up a scenario where the observer can interfere with the experience.
When you realize you’re happy, you’re essentially stepping out of the experience to label it. The moment you do that, you bring in the concept of time. Emotions, when lived, are timeless. They’re states of being. But when you observe them, you also acknowledge their temporality—they become moments that have started and will eventually end. This implicit understanding of the fleeting nature of happiness casts a shadow on the experience, thereby altering its composition and introducing elements of sadness or anxiety.
The awareness of happiness can trigger broader questions about the nature of existence, purpose, and meaning. Happiness is often viewed as an ‘end,’ a goal in life. Once achieved, its realization can create a form of existential vacuum, a questioning of ‘what next?’ This moves you out of the emotional experience and into a cognitive one, involving existential questions that can often be more unsettling than comforting.
Your realization also exemplifies the duality inherent in life experiences. There’s a push and pull between opposing forces: happiness and sadness, awareness and ignorance, temporality and timelessness. Some philosophical traditions, particularly those from Eastern philosophies like Buddhism, suggest that the ultimate state of enlightenment is one that transcends this duality to experience a state of ‘oneness.’ In that state, the act of observing happiness and the experience of happiness itself become one unified experience, without a division that could puncture the emotion. When we experience happiness, it often fits into a story we have about what makes us happy and why. This narrative self can be in constant tension with the experiencing self. The act of realizing you’re happy is a narrative act—it fits this moment of joy into your broader life story. But life stories are complex and filled with ups and downs. Fitting a moment into a narrative can mean subjecting it to all the complexities and contradictions of that narrative, which can dilute the purity of the experience.
On the one hand, mindfulness and self-awareness teach us to observe our feelings, thoughts, and experiences. On the other hand, the very act of observing can sometimes alter or even negate the experience, particularly with transient states like happiness. In quantum physics, the observer effect refers to changes that the act of observation makes on the phenomenon being observed. In psychology, too, observing one’s thoughts and feelings can change them. This is the basis of therapies like Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT), where the act of observing and questioning one’s thoughts can lead to emotional regulation.
When you realize you’re happy and become acutely aware of that happiness, you might also become aware of the fleeting nature of emotions. This could potentially lead to a decrease in the intensity of your happiness, making it a self-limiting state. The joy is punctured by the awareness of its temporary nature or by the anxiety of losing it. It’s crucial to distinguish between mindfulness and hyper-awareness. Mindfulness means accepting each moment as it is, including your happiness, without clinging to it or fearing its loss. Hyper-awareness, on the other hand, involves scrutinizing the experience so closely that you can’t simply be in it. You’re essentially stepping out of the experience to examine it.
Some of the ways to deal with it:
1. The first step in navigating this paradox is to accept the transient nature of all emotional states. Once we make peace with the ebb and flow of life, the realization that our happiness is temporary becomes less threatening.
2. Aim for a detached form of observation. Observe your happiness without clinging to it, just as you would observe your breath during meditation.
3. Shifting the focus from “Being Happy” to “Being”. When your focus is simply on ‘being,’ without labeling the state you are in, you eliminate the self-imposed pressure to sustain any emotional state, be it happiness or otherwise.
4. Often the anxiety of losing happiness arises from either past experiences or future uncertainties. Dwelling in the present can alleviate that concern.
Is harmony defined by us is really harmonious ?
The universe operates on a balance. Dualities like light and dark, joy and sorrow, and so on, are not in contention with each other but rather two sides of the same coin. They provide context and meaning. It’s akin to understanding that one cannot truly appreciate light without having known darkness. Our existence is enigmatic, where a myriad of elements interplay in a vast cosmic dance. Every action, no matter how minute, sends ripples across the fabric of the universe. Such is the interconnectedness and oneness that defines the cosmos. But amidst this vastness, we humans grapple with the age-old questions: Why are we here? Why do we feel disconnected when everything is intrinsically connected? And, why is our life, despite being a part of this vast universe, so often defined by duality?
Consider the universe as an immense symphony, where every entity is like a note, contributing to an eternal, harmonious melody. From the most massive stars to the tiniest organisms, everything is in sync, vibrating in tune with the universe. This sense of harmony is a constant, even if it’s not always immediately apparent. However, the human experience often feels at odds with this cosmic harmony. We frequently perceive life through the lens of duality: good vs. evil, happiness vs. sorrow, success vs. failure. Such bifurcations arise primarily from our mental frameworks, shaped by societal norms, personal experiences, and evolutionary predispositions.
In our evolutionary journey, the human brain developed cognitive systems to categorize, discriminate, and simplify the complex stimuli of the external world, making it digestible and navigable. This cognitive system is a survival tool, enabling us to swiftly identify threats from non-threats, edible food from inedible, and so on. Over time, as societies became more sophisticated, these dualistic mental models began to govern not just our interactions with the environment but also our self-perception, aspirations, and relationships. This dualistic approach further feeds into the illusion of separateness — a feeling that we are distinct from the rest of the universe. Despite being made of stardust and sharing common atomic ancestors with everything around us, we often feel isolated or alienated. Such feelings intensify when we face adversities, leading many to question the harmony and purpose of existence.
Our understanding of freedom is entwined with our perception of duality. True freedom is not just liberation from external constraints but also from internal ones, like prejudices, fears, and limiting beliefs. To break free from the life’s cycle, one needs to reconcile with dualities, recognizing them as constructs rather than inherent truths. As we delve deeper into the framework of existence, we find that duality isn’t inherently detrimental. Instead, it provides contrast, lending depth and dimension to our experiences. Just as the contrasting strokes of a painting give it life and depth, the dualities of our lives add vibrancy and richness to our existence. Without dark, there would be no understanding of light; without sorrow, the true essence of joy would remain unknown.
Much of our attachment to duality stems from societal and cultural conditioning. From childhood, we’re taught to label and categorize experiences: winning is good, losing is bad; happiness is desirable, sadness is not. Over time, these labels solidify into beliefs, shaping our perceptions and reactions. For instance, consider the universally accepted notion of success. Societal metrics of success often revolve around material wealth, social status, and professional achievements. However, if we were to strip away these conditioned beliefs and look at life through an unfiltered lens, we might find that true success lies in inner contentment, meaningful relationships, and personal growth.
Our fixation on the ephemeral aspects of life — fleeting emotions, transient experiences, and temporal possessions — further entrenches us in the duality trap. In the rush of life, we often overlook the eternal — the unchanging, omnipresent essence that underlies all existence. This essence, often referred to in spiritual contexts as the ‘Self’ or ‘Consciousness,’ remains unaffected by the dualities that play out on the surface.
By connecting with this eternal aspect of ourselves, we begin to view dualities with a sense of detachment. They appear as passing clouds against the vast sky of our existence, impactful in the moment but not defining our eternal essence. Aligning with the duality doesn’t mean becoming passive or indifferent. It means engaging with life wholeheartedly, experiencing every emotion, every high and low, but without letting them dictate our inner state. With heightened awareness, we can navigate the complexities of life with grace, recognizing the transient nature of our experiences.
This awareness doesn’t diminish our experiences but rather enriches them. When we embrace both the joys and sorrows of life with equanimity, we live more fully, more authentically. We begin to see challenges as opportunities for growth, failures as lessons, and successes as moments of gratitude.
Our perception of disharmony is influenced by our thoughts, emotions, and our attachments to outcomes. When we find ourselves in situations we didn’t desire or anticipate, our immediate response is resistance. This resistance, this non-acceptance, creates friction – a perceived disharmony.
The journey to non-duality is a continuous process of introspection, reflection, and growth. Various spiritual traditions offer paths to transcend duality: the Yogic tradition advocates for meditation and self-inquiry, Buddhism emphasizes mindfulness and compassion, while Taoism teaches the art of flowing with life, embracing both its yin and yang.
The common thread across these traditions is the idea of returning to one’s true nature — a state of pure consciousness, free from the constraints of duality.
Selflessly selfish or selfishly selfless ??
Selfishness, in its most basic sense, involves prioritizing one’s own needs, wants, and interests over those of others. This characteristic is often deemed negative due to its potential to harm others or disrupt social cohesion. However, at its root, selfishness can be traced back to our biological survival instincts. From an evolutionary perspective, selfish behavior can be seen as a natural response to the need for self-preservation. The urge to prioritize one’s own needs – for food, safety, reproduction, etc., has been integral to the survival of individuals and species across the natural world.
Psychologically, selfishness also emerges from a basic human need for self-esteem and self-actualization. We all desire to fulfill our potential, realize our dreams, and feel good about ourselves, which often involves prioritizing our needs over others. Furthermore, cognitive biases like the self-serving bias, where individuals tend to perceive situations in ways that are beneficial to themselves, can also contribute to selfish behavior.
At a socio-cultural level, factors such as upbringing, societal norms, and cultural values play a significant role in shaping our propensity towards selfishness. For example, individualistic societies that emphasize personal achievement and independence might foster more selfish behaviors than collectivist societies, where the group’s needs are prioritized over the individual’s.
Selflessness, on the other hand, involves prioritizing others’ needs and interests over one’s own. This behavior is generally regarded positively, associated with qualities like kindness, altruism, and generosity. Like selfishness, selflessness also has biological, psychological, and socio-cultural origins.
From a biological perspective, selfless behaviors can be seen as an extension of the survival instinct – not just for the individual, but for the group or species as a whole. This is evident in many social animals’ behavior, where individuals often sacrifice their interests for the group’s benefit. This is especially pronounced in kin selection, where organisms exhibit behaviors that favor the survival of their relatives, even at a cost to their own survival or reproduction.
Psychologically, selflessness is linked to empathy, the ability to understand and share others’ feelings. Empathy allows us to form deep emotional connections with others and motivates us to act in ways that benefit them. Moreover, selfless behaviors can lead to increased self-esteem and well-being, as they often elicit positive social feedback and a sense of purpose and fulfillment.
At a socio-cultural level, selflessness is often encouraged through moral and religious teachings, societal norms, and cultural values. Many societies promote altruistic behaviors as virtues, reinforcing these behaviors through social approval and other forms of positive reinforcement.
Yet, it’s important to understand that neither selfishness nor selflessness is inherently “good” or “bad.” Instead, these behaviors exist along a spectrum, and their impacts can vary greatly depending on the context. Excessive selfishness can lead to social discord and harm others, but a total lack of selfishness might result in self-neglect or exploitation. Similarly, while selflessness can foster social harmony and cooperation, excessive selflessness can lead to self-sacrifice or martyrdom, which may not always be healthy or beneficial.
Balancing selfishness and selflessness is a constant human endeavor, shaped by our biological instincts, psychological needs, and socio-cultural influences. This balance allows us to care for our own needs while also considering the needs of others, fostering mutual respect, understanding, and cooperation – vital elements for personal well-being and social harmony.
On nature’s selflessness, it’s crucial to understand that what we perceive as ‘selflessness’ is an anthropomorphic projection. Nature operates on principles of interconnectedness and interdependence, where each entity plays its role in maintaining the balance and harmony of the whole system. What we deem as ‘selfless’ is nature’s way of existing and sustaining.
It all comes down to our definitions, our intentions, and the subtleties of human behavior and consciousness.
While at first glance, selfishness and selflessness seem to represent opposite ends of the behavioral spectrum, a deeper understanding can reveal surprising overlaps. Let’s unpack this.
Firstly, it’s important to understand that our actions, whether selfish or selfless, are inherently tied to the pursuit of well-being, satisfaction, or some form of positive outcome, which in itself can be considered a ‘selfish’ motivation.
In the case of selfish actions, this is easy to understand – we engage in selfish behavior when we believe that it will bring us personal gain, happiness, or satisfaction. We are directly seeking a beneficial outcome for ourselves, often without considering the impacts on others.
However, when we look at selfless actions, things get a little more complex. When we act selflessly, we prioritize the needs and well-being of others above our own. But why do we do this? There are several reasons, and this is where the idea of selflessness potentially being ‘selfish’ comes into play.
We might act selflessly because helping others makes us feel good – it satisfies a deep-seated emotional need for connection, purpose, or moral fulfillment. In this sense, we can say that selflessness is ‘selfish’ because we are indirectly seeking a beneficial outcome for ourselves – a sense of emotional satisfaction.
This is not to say that selfless actions are insincere or less valuable because they bring us satisfaction. Quite the opposite – it demonstrates that our well-being is intricately linked with the well-being of others. When we help others, we also help ourselves. This interconnectedness is a fundamental aspect of human nature and society, and it’s what allows empathy, altruism, and cooperation to thrive.
We might also act selflessly out of a recognition of the inherent worth of others – a deep respect for life and consciousness that transcends self-interest. This kind of selflessness can be seen as ‘pure’ in the sense that it’s not motivated by a desire for personal gain. However, even this can be seen as ‘selfish’ in a broader, existential sense. If we consider ourselves as part of a larger whole – whether it’s a community, society, or the universe itself – then working towards the well-being of that whole is in our interest, as we are part of it.
To bring these thoughts full circle, consider this: both selfishness and selflessness are natural aspects of human behavior, deeply rooted in our survival instincts, emotional needs, and socio-cultural contexts. While they might seem contradictory, they are both tools we use to navigate the world, foster connections, and seek well-being. The key lies in finding a balance – understanding when to prioritize our needs and when to consider the needs of others. This delicate equilibrium enables us to live harmoniously, both with ourselves and with the world around us.
Selflessly selfish or selfishly selfless is paradoxical nature of human behavior. To be “selflessly selfish” is to act with apparent selflessness, but with an underlying self-serving motive, perhaps gaining a sense of satisfaction, a good reputation, or a subconscious expectation of reciprocation. Alternatively, to be “selfishly selfless” implies acting for personal gain, but in a way that also benefits others. It’s a reminder that pure selflessness or pure selfishness rarely exist; human motivations are often a complex mix of both.
The overlap between selfishness and selflessness could also be a reflection of our interconnectedness. From an evolutionary standpoint, altruistic behaviors can enhance the survival of our kin or social group, and thereby our own genetic legacy. In a socially interconnected world, self-interest and the interest of the community often align. In this sense, one could argue that acting in the interest of others (selflessness) is ultimately a form of self-preservation (selfishness). However, the key lies in understanding these motivations without judgment, acknowledging their existence, and seeking balance. It’s about striving to act in ways that respect our needs and those of others. After all, a healthy sense of self-interest is necessary for self-care and survival, just as a degree of selflessness is essential for social harmony and cooperation.
Our actions often serve both ourselves and others, blurring the lines between selfishness and selflessness in a beautifully complex dance of human nature.
The spectrum of happiness and sorrow
Happiness and sorrow are emotions that are deeply intertwined in the human experience. We often seek happiness and try to avoid sorrow, yet both seem to be an inevitable part of life.
- The Pursuit of Happiness: The pursuit of happiness often arises from a desire to escape the discomfort and pain associated with sorrow. However, this relentless chase for happiness can create a sense of fragmentation and disconnection, as we become focused on achieving a particular state of mind rather than embracing the full spectrum of human emotions
- The Nature of Sorrow: Sorrow is an essential part of the human experience, offering valuable opportunities for growth and self-discovery. By understanding and embracing sorrow, we can learn to navigate life’s challenges with greater resilience and wisdom, recognizing that both happiness and sorrow are part of the natural ebb and flow of existence.
- The Illusion of Separation: Happiness and sorrow are not separate entities but rather interconnected aspects of the human experience. Our perception of these emotions as distinct from one another arises from the illusion of separation, which is rooted in the ego and the desire to categorize and label our experiences.
- The Role of Self-Knowledge: The emphasis is on self-knowledge in our relationship to happiness and sorrow. By engaging in the process of self-inquiry and understanding the nature of our own minds, we can develop a deeper awareness of the underlying causes of our emotions and cultivate a greater sense of balance and equanimity.
- Living Fully in the Present: Emphasis is on living fully in the present moment. By cultivating mindfulness and presence, we can learn to embrace both happiness and sorrow as they arise, recognizing that each emotion offers an opportunity for growth, learning, and transformation.
Abhishek Fanse 