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.
Possessive possessions
As human beings, our relationship with possessions is multi-faceted and complex, steeped in a variety of psychological, sociological, and cultural influences. Why do we cherish and cling to material objects? How do these objects gain such profound significance in our lives that their loss can trigger profound distress?
The roots of possessiveness can be traced back to our earliest stages of development. Attachment theory, proposed by psychologist John Bowlby, suggests that as infants, we form attachments to our caregivers, perceiving them as a source of security. Objects, such as a favourite blanket or toy, can also become “attachment objects,” imbued with emotional significance and seen as sources of comfort and safety.
As we grow older, this tendency to form attachments does not diminish but simply evolves. We begin to assign emotional significance to a wider range of objects: a cherished book, a childhood home, a prized car, an heirloom passed down through generations. These objects are no longer just inanimate items; they become extensions of our identity, symbolic representations of our personal history, achievements, relationships, and aspirations.
These possessions reflect who we are, who we have been, and who we aspire to be. They’re a reflection of our interests, experiences, values, and dreams. A stamp collection is not just a bunch of stamps; it’s a testament to a person’s love for history and travel. A guitar is not just an instrument; it’s an emblem of someone’s passion for music and creativity.
However, our deep emotional attachment to our possessions has a flip side: the fear of losing them. The possibility of someone taking away our prized possessions triggers a fear of losing a part of ourselves, of our identities being eroded. This fear is the seed of possessiveness. We resist anyone interfering with our possessions, seeing such interference as an intrusion into our personal domain, a threat to our sense of self.
Our possessions also offer us a sense of control in a world often marked by uncertainty and unpredictability. In a life full of variables beyond our control, our possessions are something we can manage, organize, and control. This perceived control can offer us comfort, helping us navigate the unpredictability of life.
This dynamic of possession and control extends to our relationships as well. We might view our partners, friends, or family members as ‘ours,’ a part of our identity. In healthy relationships, this feeling manifests as a deep sense of connection and commitment. However, when driven by insecurity or fear of loss, it can devolve into possessiveness, stifling the other person’s freedom and autonomy.
Ironically, the attachment to possessions can create both a sense of fullness and emptiness. Fullness, because these objects can offer comfort, joy, and a sense of identity. Emptiness, because possessions, being impermanent, can be lost, damaged, or taken away. We might also feel empty when we realize that possessions, while they can offer temporary happiness, cannot provide the deep, lasting fulfillment we ultimately seek.
In this journey of understanding possessions, it’s critical to consider another aspect, the societal and cultural influences that shape our attitudes towards ownership and possession. Our societies, through advertising, media, and peer pressure, often promote materialism and the idea that acquiring possessions is a path to happiness and success. We’re constantly bombarded with messages that equate possessions with personal worth and social status. This reinforces our attachment to material objects, making them seem even more essential to our identities and well-being.
Take, for example, the car someone drives. It’s more than just a vehicle for transportation; it’s often seen as a status symbol, an outward sign of wealth and success. We assign value to the person based on the value of their car. This societal norm can significantly reinforce our desire to possess and protect our belongings, linking them directly to our self-worth and societal standing.
However, this attachment can lead us into a cycle of endless striving, where we’re constantly seeking the next thing to acquire, hoping it will bring us the satisfaction we crave. But as we’ve often seen, this satisfaction is usually temporary. The excitement of a new purchase eventually fades, and we’re left seeking the next thing, caught in an endless cycle of desire and dissatisfaction.
This cycle of possession and dissatisfaction is also reflected in our relationships. In an attempt to find security and happiness, we may seek to ‘possess’ people, to make them ‘ours.’ This can manifest in various ways, from the relatively benign (e.g., wanting to spend lots of time with a loved one) to the more harmful (e.g., trying to control a partner’s behavior or friendships).
When we treat people as possessions, we run into two main problems. First, people are autonomous beings with their own desires and needs, not objects to be owned or controlled. Trying to ‘possess’ a person invariably leads to conflict and harm. Second, like with material possessions, the security and happiness we seek in ‘possessing’ others are elusive. People change, relationships end, and the sense of security we hoped to find proves fleeting.
The idea of possession also often extends to the intangible elements of our lives, such as ideas, beliefs, and ideologies. These can also become ‘possessions’ we fiercely cling to and defend. For instance, political, religious, or philosophical beliefs often become integral parts of our identity. Just as with material possessions, we can react negatively if these beliefs are challenged, seeing such challenges as attacks on ourselves.
One reason we attach so deeply to these kinds of possessions is that they help to structure our understanding of the world. They provide a framework that makes sense of our experiences, giving us a sense of control and predictability. Therefore, when these beliefs are threatened, it can feel as though our whole understanding of the world is under threat, triggering a defensive reaction.
However, just as with physical possessions, this attachment can lead to problems. When we’re so deeply invested in a particular belief or ideology, it can close our minds to new ideas and perspectives. We can become rigid and inflexible, unable to adapt to new information or changing circumstances.
This rigidity can also lead to conflict with others who hold different beliefs. When our identities are so tied up with our beliefs, it can be challenging to engage in open, respectful dialogue with those who see the world differently. Instead, we may feel threatened by these differing viewpoints and respond with hostility.
Yet, one might ask, how can we not hold onto beliefs? Aren’t they necessary for making sense of the world? While it’s true that beliefs play a crucial role in our understanding of the world, the problem arises when we cling to them rigidly, refusing to consider alternative viewpoints or update our beliefs in the light of new information.
Just as we can enjoy material possessions without being attached to them, we can hold beliefs without being enslaved by them. This requires a certain level of open-mindedness, a willingness to question our beliefs and consider new ideas. It also requires a level of humility, an acknowledgment that our understanding of the world is always limited and imperfect.
By developing this kind of flexible, open-minded approach to our beliefs, we can avoid much of the conflict and suffering that comes with rigid attachment. We can engage more productively with those who hold different views, seeing these interactions not as threats, but as opportunities for learning and growth.
The concept of possessions, whether tangible or intangible, thus challenges us to reassess our relationship with the world around us. While possessions can provide a sense of security and identity, our attachment to them can also lead to suffering and conflict.
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.
Can actions be detached?
The origin of action can be traced back to the very fabric of life itself. Every living entity, whether it’s a single-celled organism or a complex human being, is in a continuous state of action. Even in states of seeming inactivity, there are countless actions taking place within our bodies – cells dividing, heart beating, neurons firing. These actions are not born out of attachment, but rather out of the inherent nature of life and its ceaseless dynamism.
In human beings, actions become more complex. Many of our actions stem from cognitive processes, decision-making, emotions, motivations, desires, and fears. Some of these might be influenced by past experiences or expectations of future outcomes. While it’s true that past experiences can inform our actions, it doesn’t necessarily mean that every action is an outcome of attachment to past results.
Let’s take the example of learning to ride a bike. The initial attempts are informed by the desire to learn, and perhaps the fear of falling. Each attempt, whether successful or not, provides a learning experience which informs future attempts. Over time, as we master the skill, the act of riding a bike becomes almost second nature. It’s no longer driven by the initial desire or fear, but instead becomes an integrated action that we can perform almost effortlessly. In this scenario, the action of riding the bike is not an outcome of attachment, but a manifestation of learned skills and understanding.
Now, let’s consider the concept of detached action as explained in the Bhagavad Gita. Detachment in this context does not mean indifference or lack of care, but rather a state of being where one is not excessively attached to the fruits of their actions. When we perform an action with an attached mindset, we are often excessively focused on the outcome. This focus on the future can rob the action of its full potential, as our mind is not fully present in the action itself.
Detached action, on the other hand, allows us to be fully present in the act of doing. This presence can liberate the action from the constraints of past experiences or future expectations, allowing it to unfold with its full potential. A detached action is one that is performed with a sense of duty, with full attention, and without excessive attachment to the outcome. This doesn’t mean that we don’t care about the result. Instead, it means that we perform the action to the best of our ability, accepting whatever result comes as a consequence.
An important aspect to consider here is the interconnectedness of life. Our actions do not exist in a vacuum; they are part of an interconnected web of actions, reactions, and interactions. Understanding this can help us realise that while we have control over our own actions, the results are influenced by countless other factors, many of which are beyond our control. This realisation can foster a sense of humility, acceptance, and detachment, which can free us from the psychological burden of excessively identifying with the outcomes of our actions.
Moving further into the philosophy of actions, let’s delve into the concept of ‘free will’ and ‘determinism’. These two philosophical positions often clash when we try to understand the nature of our actions.
Free will posits that we, as conscious beings, have the power to make choices and act independently of any external constraints. It suggests that our actions originate from our conscious decisions and, thus, we bear full responsibility for them.
Determinism, on the other hand, suggests that every event, including human actions, is determined by previously existing causes. It argues that all our actions are the result of some cause, whether it is our genetic predisposition, upbringing, social environment, or other factors.
Both of these positions hold some truth. While we may feel that we have the freedom to choose our actions, we cannot deny that our choices are influenced by our past experiences, genetic predisposition, and external circumstances. So, our actions are both free and determined, depending on the perspective we adopt.
When we examine our actions closely, we find that they are not purely the result of our conscious decisions. Our subconscious mind, conditioned by past experiences and deep-seated beliefs, plays a significant role in our decision-making process. So, while we might believe that we are acting freely, many of our actions are habitual reactions conditioned by our past.
Understanding this can liberate us from the illusion of absolute control and the burden of excessive self-blame or self-congratulation. It can also foster a sense of compassion for ourselves and others, as we recognise that our actions are often the result of deep-seated conditioning and external circumstances, rather than purely intentional choices.
The key lies in the practice of mindfulness and self-awareness. By becoming more aware of our thoughts, feelings, and motivations, we can start to understand the forces that drive our actions. We can recognise our habitual patterns and start to make more conscious choices.
In the Bhagavad Gita, Krishna advises Arjuna to act without attachment to the fruits of action. This does not mean acting without care or intention. Rather, it means acting with full attention and commitment, without getting caught up in the anxiety about the outcome. This attitude allows us to act with greater freedom and effectiveness, as we are not burdened by excessive worry about the future or regrets about the past.
When we act, we set into motion a series of events, and the consequences of those actions ripple out into the world. The impact of our actions is not confined to ourselves; it influences those around us, our environment, and ultimately the world at large. This chain of cause and effect is constantly in motion and is dictated by the nature and intent of the action.
Duality arises from the perceived differentiation between good and bad, positive and negative, joy and pain, and so forth. This perceived differentiation often causes conflict and suffering because we instinctively cling to what we perceive as good and resist what we perceive as bad. We are pleased when our actions yield positive outcomes and disappointed when they do not.
However, the Bhagavad Gita teaches us that the dichotomy of good and bad is a construct of our mind and that every action simply is. This is a difficult concept to understand because it runs counter to our instinctual desire to classify and judge things based on our subjective perspective.
In reality, an action is neither good nor bad; it is our attachment to the outcome that labels it so. When we act without attachment to the outcome, we act in the fullest expression of our being, free from the constraints of expectation or fear of failure. This state of detachment does not mean that we do not care about the outcome, but rather that we understand we cannot control every aspect of it.
Instead, our focus shifts to the process, the action itself. By doing so, we become more present, more mindful, and more engaged in our actions. We start to see our actions not as a means to an end but as an end in themselves.
Therefore, to navigate the duality of actions and their effects, we must cultivate awareness and detachment. By observing our thoughts, emotions, and actions without judgment or expectation, we can experience life as it is, without the filter of duality.
In the grand scheme of life, our actions are but tiny ripples in a vast ocean. They may cause waves, they may create turbulence, but eventually, they will settle, leaving the water calm and clear once more. It is in this state of calmness, free from the duality of actions and their effects, that we find true freedom and peace.
Anticipatory anxiety in Human Relationships
Human relationships, particularly the relationships we share with those we deeply care about, are characterized by a multitude of emotions, experiences, and dynamics that can often seem paradoxical. One such paradox is the experience of having a rush of things to share with a loved one, only to find ourselves going blank when we finally meet them. This experience can be perplexing, but it is not uncommon.
Firstly, it’s crucial to acknowledge that communication in the context of love is not just about the exchange of words. Love is a deep, complex emotion, and our communication with those we love often extends beyond the verbal. When we meet our loved ones, our subconscious mind, which is a powerful part of our emotional processing system, comes into play. It relishes the presence of the loved one, focusing on the nonverbal cues like their expressions, their body language, the warmth in their eyes, and their overall energy. These subtle signals can trigger an emotional response, which can be so overwhelming that it temporarily clouds our conscious thoughts, leading us to experience the ‘blank’ state.
Secondly, the anticipation of sharing experiences with a loved one can create a psychological phenomenon known as ‘anticipatory anxiety’. Anticipatory anxiety refers to the anxiety that individuals experience in anticipation of an event. In this case, the event is the sharing of experiences with the loved one. This anxiety is not necessarily negative; it could just be the result of the excitement and eagerness of wanting to share and connect. However, it can sometimes lead to over-preparation, where we mentally rehearse the conversation multiple times, creating an information overload. When the actual moment of sharing comes, the overload coupled with the emotional response to being in the presence of the loved one can cause our mind to go blank.
Moreover, the desire to share our experiences with our loved ones stems from our need for connection and validation. We yearn to be seen, to be understood, and to be acknowledged. However, when we are in the presence of a loved one, especially if the love is deep and genuine, their mere presence can provide the connection and validation we seek. This can reduce the urgency of the need to share, leading to a calming effect where our thoughts settle down, and we find ourselves enjoying the moment rather than focusing on narrating our experiences.
Another angle to consider is the dynamics of vulnerability in love. Sharing our experiences, particularly those that are personal or emotionally charged, involves opening up and making ourselves vulnerable. While we may feel comfortable with this level of vulnerability at a conceptual level, the reality of opening up in person may feel more daunting, causing us to retreat into ourselves.
Furthermore, it’s essential to understand the role of ‘presence’ in love. Being ‘present’ is about being fully engaged in the here and now, immersing ourselves in the current moment without being distracted by past memories or future anticipations. When we are with our loved ones, we are often naturally pulled into the present because of the depth of our feelings for them. This state of presence can calm our mind, helping us let go of our preconceived plans to share, and instead, allowing us to just be and enjoy the moment with them.
In the realm of love, relationships, and emotional intimacy, the phenomenon of ‘going blank’ when in the presence of a loved one is multifaceted and deeply linked to our inner selves and our perception of the world around us. The depth and breadth of human emotion, particularly those we experience when we’re in love, are often too vast to put into words. This cognitive-emotional interplay can add another layer of complexity to the ‘going blank’ phenomenon.
Sometimes, the vastness of what we wish to share and the depth of our feelings can be so overwhelming that it becomes difficult to articulate them into coherent thoughts or words. This may be because language, while an effective means of communication, is sometimes limited in expressing the depth and complexity of our inner world. Some feelings, experiences, or ideas may not have exact words to define them, causing a disconnect between our internal state and our ability to express it verbally. This can result in the feeling of being ‘blank’ when we attempt to communicate our experiences to a loved one.
There’s also an element of what psychologist Carl Rogers referred to as ‘unconditional positive regard’. Unconditional positive regard involves showing complete support and acceptance of a person regardless of what they say or do. When we are in the presence of a loved one who provides us with this unconditional positive regard, it can create a deeply comforting and validating environment. This environment can be so emotionally fulfilling that our need to share or discuss our experiences diminishes, as our emotional needs are already being met through the connection itself. This can contribute to the sensation of going ‘blank’ in their presence.
This concept aligns with the Eastern philosophy of ‘being versus doing’. In the hustle and bustle of our daily lives, we are often caught up in a constant state of ‘doing’ – planning, executing, achieving, and communicating. However, when we’re with someone we deeply love and trust, we transition from ‘doing’ to ‘being’. In this state of ‘being’, we are fully present, engaged, and immersed in the moment, not driven by the need to accomplish anything or express everything. This transition can lead to the settling down of our thoughts, contributing to the ‘blank’ state.
The ‘going blank’ phenomenon also has an interesting correlation with the concept of ‘flow’ introduced by positive psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi. ‘Flow’ is a state of being completely absorbed in the current activity to the extent that we lose track of time and our surroundings. When we’re with a loved one, especially when the connection is deep and genuine, we can experience a similar state of ‘flow’, where our focus shifts from our thoughts and experiences to the shared moment. This shift can give rise to the feeling of ‘going blank’.
It’s a reminder that sometimes, words are not necessary, and that love and understanding can be conveyed through a mere look, a touch, or shared silence. As the renowned poet Rumi once said, “Silence is the language of God, all else is poor translation.” So, when we ‘go blank’, we are not experiencing a lack, but rather a transcendence from the verbal to the non-verbal, from the explicit to the implicit, from ‘doing’ to ‘being’ in love.
Love – can it be more or less??
Love is a deeply profound and complex human emotion, often defying straightforward explanations and definitions. At its core, love can be viewed as an unconditional acceptance and appreciation of oneself or another, involving care, empathy, and a desire for the loved one’s well-being. This exploration will delve into why we sometimes feel the need for more or less love, why we keep expectations in love, and why love can sometimes result in hurt.
The expression of love involves a diverse array of feelings, behaviors, and beliefs, which are influenced by a myriad of psychological, social, cultural, and biological factors. From the perspective of evolutionary psychology, love can be seen as a survival mechanism, promoting bonding and mutual aid, which are crucial for the survival of our species.
On a psychological level, love involves the interplay of multiple elements including attachment, intimacy, commitment, passion, and care. It’s often in the dynamics of these elements that we start to perceive love as being ‘more’ or ‘less’. The need for ‘more’ love could be linked to an increased desire for emotional intimacy, assurance, or care, while the feeling of ‘too much’ love might be related to an overwhelming sense of vulnerability or loss of autonomy.
Cultural and societal norms also play a role in shaping our perceptions of love. Cultures around the world have different understandings and expectations of love, which influence how individuals perceive, express, and experience love.
The expectation in love is a widely experienced phenomenon and is closely tied to the human propensity for prediction and desire for stability. As human beings, we have an innate tendency to form expectations based on our past experiences and societal norms. These expectations can serve as a guide, helping us navigate our relationships and giving us a sense of control and predictability.
However, expectations can sometimes lead to disappointment and hurt when they are not met. This can happen when our expectations are unrealistic or when they are not aligned with the other person’s capabilities or intentions. It’s important to note that unmet expectations don’t necessarily imply a lack of love, but rather a discrepancy between our desires and reality.
The concept of love being always 100% and none when there’s less, is a philosophical interpretation that holds love as a complete, all-encompassing emotion. When we truly love, we love wholly and unconditionally. This kind of love does not fluctuate but remains constant, irrespective of circumstances. This is the ideal form of love, the one we aspire to, where love is pure, unconditional, and complete.
Yet, in our human experience, we often find ourselves in a different reality, one where love is not always perceived as complete or constant. In these instances, love can sometimes lead to hurt. This is because love involves vulnerability. To love is to open ourselves up to another, to let them affect us in a deeply personal way. This openness can sometimes lead to pain, especially if the love is not reciprocated, if there’s a betrayal, or if the loved one is lost.
Moreover, it’s crucial to distinguish between love as a pure, selfless emotion, and our human interpretations and reactions to this emotion. While love in its purest form is unconditional and constant, our perceptions and experiences of love are influenced by our individual personalities, past experiences, emotional needs, and mental health.
So, when we say we want ‘more’ love, what we often mean is that we want more demonstrations of love – more time, more affection, more understanding, more validation. Similarly, when we feel hurt in love, it’s often not love itself that hurts us, but the actions (or lack thereof) that stem from it, or rather, our interpretation of these actions.
It’s important to acknowledge that while love is a universal emotion, our understanding and experience of love are deeply personal and unique. It is through our interactions with others that we learn about love, and through introspection, we deepen our understanding of it.
As we continue our exploration of love, let’s delve into the concept of ‘contagious’ love. The contagious nature of love is deeply rooted in our evolutionary history and neurobiology. As social beings, our survival and well-being are dependent on our ability to form and maintain relationships with others. Love, being a powerful emotional bond, helps us create these social ties and foster cooperation.
On a neurological level, the contagiousness of love can be explained by the presence of mirror neurons in our brain. These are a type of brain cell that responds equally when we perform an action or when we witness someone else perform the same action. When we see a loved one expressing love, our mirror neurons fire, causing us to mimic their emotional state internally. This neural ‘mirroring’ can result in us experiencing a similar feeling of love, making it seem as if love is ‘contagious’.
The shared experience of love enhances empathy, strengthens social bonds, and promotes communal harmony. It allows us to understand and share the feelings of others, contributing to our ability to empathize and connect on a deeper level. Moreover, when we see love being expressed, it often inspires us to express our own love more freely, spreading the emotion in a ripple effect.
However, as we navigate through the realms of love, we often come face-to-face with the reality of emotional pain. Why do we get hurt in love? It’s important to remember that love in its truest, most unadulterated form doesn’t cause pain. It is the conditions, expectations, and attachments that we often associate with love that lead to suffering.
We are often hurt when our expectations in love are not met. This could be because we expect certain behaviors from our loved ones, or we assume that our expression of love should be reciprocated in a certain way. When reality does not align with these expectations, it can result in feelings of disappointment, rejection, and hurt.
Furthermore, love inherently involves vulnerability. When we love, we open up, we share our innermost selves, our hopes, fears, dreams, and insecurities. This emotional openness leaves us susceptible to pain and hurt. If our vulnerability is not handled with care, or if our trust is broken, it can lead to deep emotional wounds.
Yet, it’s essential to note that the potential for pain should not deter us from embracing love. Love, even with its potential for hurt, brings a depth of emotion and a richness of experience that is unparalleled. The joy, connection, and growth that love can bring far outweigh the risks associated with it.
In addition, the pain that sometimes accompanies love can serve as a catalyst for personal growth and self-understanding. It can help us understand our emotional needs and patterns better, encourage us to develop healthier relationship skills, and foster emotional resilience.
In the grand tapestry of life, love weaves its own unique thread. It adds color, texture, and depth, making our human experience all the more vibrant and meaningful. Love, in its fullness, is not just an emotion; it is an experience, a journey. It is a journey of joy and pain, of connection and loss, of self-discovery and growth.
Understanding love in its entirety requires embracing its complexities, its highs and lows, its joys and pains. It involves recognizing that love is not merely about fulfilling our needs or desires, but about growth, understanding, and deep connection. It’s about seeing and accepting ourselves and others in our wholeness, with all our strengths and weaknesses, hopes and fears, perfections and imperfections.
And while love can sometimes lead to pain, it also holds the promise of healing. Love has the capacity to heal wounds, bridge divides, and transform our lives in profound ways. So, despite its complexities and challenges, we continue to seek love, to give love, to be in love. For in the end, love is not just an emotion; it is a fundamental part of our humanity, a testament to our capacity for empathy, connection, and kindness. It is a force that binds us, nurtures us, and propels us towards growth and fulfillment.
Abhishek Fanse 