I didn’t help myself much by adding this chapter to Dimensions, but while previous chapters do offer insight into the human being in wholeness – to an extent sufficient for further reading – I am of the mind they still miss the core question we will focus on: “Who am I?” As the entire healing journey is about encountering and embracing the self with love, we need to know what we are actually talking about.
I started this chapter with: “I didn’t help myself much”. Well, yes, I didn’t. Why? Because no one has demonstrably proven what our I is, or where our I is sitting while observing what is going on in our lives. I anticipate much stumbling upon the limits of my (and general) knowledge, and upon my attempt to blend science and faith in a structured, coherent way. And frankly – you will be reading only my opinion. Honest, supported by science, studies, experience, but still subjective – as no one knows. Thus, I do not apologize, I am accepting my own challenge, and I am inviting you into this stumbling.
Scientific Approach
As I was talking about the spirit and the spiritual realm in the previous chapter, I would now like to focus on what science has to tell us. First, I need to clarify – when I refer in this chapter to science or the scientific approach, I mean the materialistic science. This is only for simplicity, so please do not get confused, as theology is also a science.
Over the last decades, neuroscience discoveries about the brain have advanced at an extraordinary pace. There are numerous mind-blowing findings about how the brain functions, how we think, how we make decisions, and much more. I would like to share some of them with you, although not as a neuroscientist but as a curious observer. Even though they will not reveal what the I (in neurological terminology, the core self) is, they provide invaluable insights into the complex construction and functioning of the human mind, and how fragile our perception of self is.
I would like to begin with a well-known case from the mid-nineteenth century, when a certain Mr. Gage suffered a terrible accident that literally tore away part of his frontal brain. Mr. Gage survived; however, his personality changed. From a kind man, he became an arrogant, rude, vulgar person, eventually losing all his friends. He lost the part of the brain that tells us – do not say this, it is not nice, it will hurt people.
Numerous similar cases have been described in which people experienced various brain alterations, whether from accidents, infections, or tumors, and consequently changed their behavior (perhaps the easiest example is that of Alzheimer’s patients with loss of restraint). Some lost a natural ability, such as decision-making or creativity, while others suddenly gained a new ability (presumably because some of their brain centers became unblocked). We also know that our mood easily swings with hormones or brain chemistry (so-called neurotransmitters and neuromodulators). By stimulating certain brain centers, we can trigger a person to involuntarily move their hand (not so surprising), but we can also trigger a person’s will to move their hand. We can also induce an out-of-body experience, or make a person feel extreme pain without experiencing any suffering (without affective appraisal), and ultimately – under general anesthesia – we altogether shut consciousness off. Yet there is something even more intriguing.
In cases of severe epilepsy, our two brain hemispheres may be surgically disconnected (they are connected by the so-called corpus callosum), resulting in an interesting dissociation in which each hemisphere has its own processing of information, distinctly separate from the other, and handles certain tasks autonomously. As consciousness and decision-making are distributed between the brain hemispheres, now each hemisphere operates semi-independently. Because the left hemisphere has the benefit of speech (it contains the speech centers) and dominates in planning and initiating actions, it naturally assumes the primary role in guiding behavior. But the right hemisphere also processes the inputs and, although it generally supports the left hemisphere, it can also – unfortunately only with the left hand – respond to events, either by action (a different approach to the situation) or by writing. And yes, the two hemispheres can communicate – as they normally constantly do via the corpus callosum – except now, outside the brain, for example through writing. Hence, split-brain cases illustrate our everyday reality.
For a more complex understanding of how the brain functions, we now assume that there are perhaps not merely two hemispheres, which constantly communicate and decide what to do and how to do it, like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. We assume there are numerous interconnected centers, each with its own agenda and priorities, constantly exchanging information via an extensive neurological network to balance emotions, thoughts, behavior, or action, resulting in a single integrated outcome. I can imagine the amount of subconscious information, each center adding its objectives, blending into one outcome – no wonder we sometimes act without having a clue why. Sure, some (sabotaging) little part of our brain (the “scamp-center”) knew (let’s roast him a bit). By monitoring the final blend of this whole spectrum of entwined little selves, we get a spectacular image of how our mind (or, in neuroscientific terminology, the narrative self) works, what processes are happening inside our brain, how we learn, feel, evolve, change, or what influences us. While neuroscience does not provide an answer to what the core self is, it offers a detailed image of our narrative self, our mind, one of the hidden dimensions of the human being.
Limits
So why bring up science when we simply returned to the topic of the mind. Primarily, because science is searching for the core self in the brain while still studying the narrative self, the mind. But, more importantly, because science is showing us where the core self, the I, is not. In this way, it gradually creates the contours of the core self per exclusionem, which I view as being very close to – if not equivalent to – the spirit.
If we generally look at science, it basically observes reality, analyzes it, and synthesizes it into systematic, logical structures, rules. It describes natural phenomena, from cells to the universe, proposing explanations that lead to uncovering and understanding truth. However, the solidity of scientific truth begins to dissolve as it approaches its limits. Not only in the comprehensive explanation of the core self, but generally in the convergence of the macro- and micro-universe, scientific theories increasingly rely on inferred but unverified axioms and plausible yet unproven hypotheses. Science relies on its own belief system. There is no way I would underestimate any scientific theory – I am just reflecting on their limits.
Let me propose why I perceive that the limits of science also draw the contours of the spiritual dimension.
First, we should perhaps question why the spiritual dimension would hide in the scientific void. Well, I do not think it hides. It exists in perfect harmony with the universe, nature, much as the spirit exists in perfect harmony with the body and the mind. Existing in a different dimension (nowadays no longer science fiction) – it likely has its own principles. Similarly, as a two-dimensional world could only guess at and infer a third dimension based on hints, but never measure it, I see no reason why it should be different between our dimension and the spiritual dimension itself.
Second, I do not believe that the spiritual dimension or the spirit will ever be directly scientifically proven, but it will remain one of those plausible yet unproven hypotheses. I do not believe that the spiritual dimension will ever be measurable, because the moment it enters the material world, it would be rated, assessed, judged, and thus lose one of its main qualities: unconditionality and, consequently, freedom. If it possesses any intelligence, it will not allow that to happen.
I would add that I find the principles of the spiritual dimension are those that we call the truth; in that sense, as we are reaching the limits of science, we are actually approaching the truth we seek. Hence, science helps us understand the truth not only by describing the known, but also through its limits: the unknown.
Knowing the I
So what is the I? Admittedly, as I mentioned at the beginning of this chapter, no one really knows. The approaches are just as colorful as those regarding the spirit: whether viewed as the soul that reincarnates, a flow of energy, the spirit connected to the spiritual realm, or the essence of consciousness. And all can be true, or none.
I can offer you my belief, which is that the I, the core self, our true identity, is the spirit itself. I will further elaborate on this; regardless, most importantly, it does not matter what I believe. I will do my best to draw those contours without filling in too many details, though some basic structure – for the contours not to collapse – will be necessary.
Essentially, all we need to get closer to the truth – to the authentic I – is to reach from the known to the unknown, transcending the self and crossing our limits in any preferred way closest to our understanding of transcendence, material or spiritual. Drawing closer to love, peace, truth indicates we are on the right path – reaching transcendence – and our I will start glowing. And knowing who am I is the core of healing.
Body, Mind and Spirit
In the previous chapter, we were talking about the spirit, and I promised we would explore the relationship between the spirit and the mind (not excluding the body). Now is the time to perform that delicate surgery, separating the two within the context of their role in our core identity. To do this, we will recall what has already been said about the spirit and the mind. Once we see the two clearly, we can attempt to separate them (only to stitch them together again, as they are essentially inseparable – just a teaser).
We have well established the mind as the narrative self, the one that becomes observable once we are mindful, where the stream of our thoughts flows – all the stories, interpretations, our memories of the past, and dreams of the future. We understand the spirit as the core self, our identity, the one observing the entirety of our lives, observing the thoughts, while also having the ability to assign them value – which, again, is only narrated by the mind and then observed by the spirit. Don’t worry if this feels densely interwoven at the moment; that is a perfectly sound feeling.
We still need to add the spirit’s main distinction and value – the spirit is the one suggesting the direction of our thoughts and decisions – rooted in its free will. I cannot emphasize this enough, as it is the core of the human being, our divine existence. We, our core I, the spirit – is holding the immense, gigantic capacity of the free will. We always can, and we always do choose. Even if we choose not to choose. Our life is one big, continuous choice.
Now we will cut a bit deeper, just to continue in the finest surgery: mind and spirit, distinct realms, are interwoven into one entity – where the spirit is the divine subject and the mind is its earthly manifestation. Thus, the spirit – our I with our free will – expresses itself through our mind.
I have to acknowledge: I myself feel the internal tension while writing this, as we are basically separating the inseparable, though we can navigate it with careful attention.
Spirit, the I, has the free will to make decisions that are manifested through the mind. That manifestation is, again, observed only by the spirit, as the mind has the quality of narrating, not observing. And thus, what the spirit perceives is the reflection of itself – of its own intentions and decisions – via the mind.
Meaning, one could probably exist without the other, though in silence.
From a scientific point of view, we would say that without the somatic signal, our I, the observer, cannot claim the body. There is indeed in our brains a dedicated center – the so-called medial prefrontal cortex – which activates exclusively when reflecting on self-traits (e.g., “Am I polite?”) rather than in response to other cognitive inputs.
Numerous theories exist regarding how the spirit and the mind are connected, how the spirit might affect the mind, and how it perceives its own reflection. We may theorize about spiritual mind-modifying frequencies, or about some higher-dimensional interventions in the creation and blocking of thoughts, about the spirit interfering between time frames (as it seems that time may be quantized), or the brain having all neurons firing across its centers while the spirit stops unwanted impulses (those not aligned with its intent) and adjusts the final thought within the limitations of the brain’s potential. For me, the closest approach is that we are in a constant stance, which directly affects our decisions. (Therefore, it is important to cultivate our opinions and stance.)
To have a complete picture of the spirit-mind-body axis, we have to understand that the mind is essentially the process occurring in the brain, hence its substrate is the body (as the brain is part of the body); we cannot physically dissect the mind – we can observe its expression in neuroscientific imaging (EEG, fMRI, etc.), but we dissect the brain, the body.
As the vehicle of the mind is the brain with its neuronal pathways and biochemistry, we have no choice but to accept our physical limitations and perceive through our mind merely a limited and distorted image of our spirit and our intentions. We are the spirit, but we are embodied, so in the end everything is expressed only in neurology and biochemistry, through our body, in our brain, as our mind. (Thus, the more we care for ourselves, with humility and love, the clearer the picture becomes.) We have our memories, our learned reactions and habits, we have our genetic predispositions, manifesting in anatomy – everyone differs in which centers are more developed and which are less so – resulting in a diversity of capabilities in processing different inputs. No two people are the same, so I repeat, please, never ever compare yourself to others, nor to your past self, it is nothing more than a big lie – whether you praise yourself or shame yourself.
After all this, we breathe out a bit, as I provide some background context. What I described was portrayed long ago and is validated across major theological concepts, though terminology varies. Western traditions generally emphasize the unity of the spirit and the mind; therefore, you will not often encounter their distinction, since the term soul is predominantly used as their integration (which in Latin literally corresponds to psyche). Meanwhile, many Eastern traditions use terms such as heart or spirit, which refer to a reality realized through life itself, while remaining interwoven with the mind.
To my mind, if it were such a crucial distinction conditioning our freedom and happiness, it would likely be better explained across theologies. Perhaps, then, this fine surgery serves more as a clarification of the I for the purpose of reading this book than as a crucial moment for healing. Honestly, at first, I didn’t want to get to this so deeply, but trust me: without this distinction, the writing was a mess – so much was left unexpressed in a gray zone that it felt really clunky.
Nevertheless, what is important and what we definitely want to avoid is collapsing this distinction into a dualism of two hostile entities. They can be conflicting, or rather miscommunicating, but the mind will never willingly oppose the spirit, as the mind does not possess free will – even though it has its biological limitations and processes. But those are conditions, not intentions.
For our further reading, it is important to apprehend that our identity is spiritual, while accepting what we have and that we cannot blame our mind or body for any of our own choices or indeed present conditions. Acknowledging and accepting what we are and what we have is the path to understanding and embracing our freedom.
Grace
After establishing the body–mind–spirit axis, we are still missing one element. If the spirit and the mind existed only within the context of the material world, life itself would be terribly random, and free will would be essentially reduced to the luck of what we receive from the world. I am not excluding this idea, as our core self, the spirit, could still choose from what it encounters. That said, it does not align with my experience, observations, or studies.
We are missing the final piece of the puzzle in this picture: God, and especially God’s grace – which we briefly mentioned in the previous chapter as God’s call. We may use whichever terminology one prefers: energy flow, unity, universal law, etc., which expresses itself in our lives as intuition, conscience, etc. The core concept is that there is something all-embracing that influences our lives, thoughts, decisions, calling us toward our best.
Grace is the dynamic presence of God in our lives, sometimes more obvious, sometimes as a whisper, calling us to our fulfillment. We can certainly encounter grace in this world, through people or situations, when it is registered by our bodily sensations, mentally processed by the brain, finally reaching our spirit, which perceives the divine touch. We can also experience God’s grace directly touching our spirit, mind, or body, without prior sensory stimulation. In both cases, the final receiver is the spirit, the I, with its intrinsic longing, called the spirituality, and its free will, which is always in the process of deciding.
Deciding.
In free will.
Always.
This is the core of the entire book, which we will further develop and examine from different perspectives. But take heed. Until we accept – at least rationally at first – that we truly always have free will to decide, we are directly restraining ourselves within the decision to stay passive, in ignorance, entrapped in spiritual and mental rigidity.
Do not get confused here: to have free will does not mean to have the free will to act. It may be the free will in our stance. Here, I recommend the book Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl. Since the concept isn’t exactly compressible, I would basically need to rewrite the whole book here. Which definitely does not make any sense. And I do not have the copyright.
But to put it into a simple example: if I am the father of starving children and I decide to steal food, I cannot say I did not have a choice. I had a choice – to let them starve. Nonetheless, I freely decided – within the limits of my possibilities (external and internal) – to steal the food, as I reasoned that it was better to steal the food than to let the children starve. And if I do not have a choice to act, I still have a choice of my mental and spiritual stance, even if it can be difficult to grasp and may take time to find a way to approach it.
However, we will have a whole chapter on freedom, as the realization of free will, and also on responsibility, as a counterweight to freedom. For now, it is important to comprehend that grace is a divine, immanent presence, as natural as the principles of the material world, sustaining us with the continuous faculty of free will, regardless of external conditions.
Almost
We already know that the spirit is not static. Its intrinsic longing for the divine, the spirituality, already sets the spirit into constant dynamics. And that dynamics actually operates on the spectrum of our openness to the divine: on one hand, our response to our spirituality as an intrinsic longing for transcendence; on the other, our acceptance of grace as the divine call.
It may seem now that I am picturing the spirit here as inherently good, always longing for love, peace, truth – a romantic vision of the light that cannot be dimmed. And yes, that is the concept I am proposing. Almost.
The spirit – all of us, you, me, our true identity, our core self – is inherently good. We are the light. We are love, we are peace, we do not need to search for eternal peace and freedom outside, as they are our true spiritual identity. We were created as the divine light. Digest this, please. Our identity is spiritual. (In fact, right now, by reading this, we are in interdimensional communication. Mind-blowing.)
So, if our core identity is the light (I will call it the light, just so I don’t always need to create a new synonym), how come our world is not shining? Where is the dimming coming from?
Here we come back to my “Almost”. The issue is that our free will is realized within the biological limits of our brain, hence in our limited ability to perceive our own image and the divine in truth. Our worldly experience is shaping our mind via hardwired physiology (creating neuronal pathways according to what we experience and learn), not to mention our genetic predispositions and anatomy; our brains differ, like any other feature of our body – height, eye color, or dentition. And all those anatomical and physical limitations, inborn and acquired, are enormously limiting and distorting our picture of truth.
We are essentially always deciding between two options: trust the divine and step into the unknown – self-transcend and touch the truth to the extent of our limited perception; yet we can at least get a glimpse of the truth, which is always opening us more and more to who we really are. Therefore: “the truth will set you free.” And freedom is in letting go – we will talk about this much more later. The other option is to keep our illusion of control – that will be challenged throughout our lives.
Hence, this is the main issue of the light and the answer to our question. We have the choice to either open ourselves to the divine and shine, or close ourselves and implode, keeping our light dimmed and seeing our reflection in the mind as dark. Certainly, there is the whole spectrum of radiance and colors in between, with continuous dynamics, based on our responses, or choices, on our decisions – within our free will.
The unfortunate road to the already mentioned dualism is very slippery – the spirit versus the body. There is certainly something in the tension between the physical world and transcendence; but this tension is not hostile. Even though our core identity is the spirit, we know that without the body, we would lose our entire worldly experience, knowledge, and the possibility of the choice. Even though our core identity is the spirit, without the mind and the body, we would be like a driver without a car.
Thus, the relation between the spiritual and material worlds is rather complementary – they need each other – as the world without the spirit would be dead, and the spirit without the world would be breath without a body. Although the body limits the breath, they may seem to be in conflict, but they are not in antagonism.
Unfortunately, we are often creating the antagonism ourselves – by not appreciating and living in the harmony of our spirit and body. And our mind in between. It is easy to exert strain on our body and mind, expecting more, whether on a physical, mental, or spiritual basis. We relentlessly want to be more productive, think better, or be more spiritual. We have our perfect concept of how things should be, and we try to master our control over them. We are focusing on our ideas, on our control, on ourselves. Whenever we focus on our construct of existence, we are infusing more tension between our spirit and body.
But the body and material world have – and always will have – their limitations, unpredicted events; caught in the friction of forcing our control, we are consequently drawing ourselves inward – literally imploding. We are increasingly losing the divine, the freedom, and we perceive we need more control. As a result, we are closing ourselves while losing connection and trust.
We are becoming dark, not because we are inherently bad, but because we treat our body and mind from the perspective of exploitation rather than love. For those burdened by restricting expectations about their spiritual path, this can lead to the concept of dualism; nonetheless the problem is not a conflict between the spirit and the body, but between reality (truth) and their own illusions, which they mistake for a universal truth that should be aligned with their subjective expectations. We will talk about our illusions more, but now I would like to get back to the core of this chapter – what does the I mean?
Story
Hopefully, we have successfully established the general concept of ourselves from a holistic perspective on the unity of the spirit and the body, with the mind as a function, or manifestation, of both, and in the context of both the material and spiritual worlds we live in.
Now let’s consider a simple example of a person, heavily traumatized since childhood, distrustful, maintaining control, since the world, existence, God – all seem unreliable, and any trust or faith implies vulnerability and potential suffering. In this wounded state, the person has learned (understand the neuronal pathways) not to trust and instead to remain alone, in control, where their core identity, the spirit, is closed, deceived, and either holds a very distorted image of themselves and the surrounding reality or even exists in a state of unawareness. The divine call – an opportunity to open from any source – is probably immediately shut down by the brain’s neuronal networks as dangerous, and they experience natural resistance. This is the image of reality in which we often live, to a varying extent.
However, it can also happen that in the encounter with someone who genuinely cares, the brain offers a tentative recognition of no danger, and the person could decide to carefully unveil themselves, letting their core self, the spirit, perceive the subtle touch of goodness, the divine. As a consequence, new pathways are being created in the brain’s neuronal networks, slowly broadening the person’s spectrum of resonant experiences. And on a spiritual level, they begin to sense their opening as warm, surprisingly natural, despite a persisting caution. They may decide to observe, to learn, to step beyond their limits, and to experience what they have not yet experienced. This is self-transcendence – they are opening their heart, their mind, their existence, they are broadening their limits and becoming more open to grace.
The person with the experience of safe connection may also experience a natural wish to connect, to express (genuine) love. This self-transcendence may be another step toward opening, where giving, sharing, love feel good, further reinforcing new neuronal pathways.
Definitely, this is just an example, very simplified, as we are making these decisions – more or less perceptibly – constantly. We are opening and closing ourselves in one perpetual decision, which is called life. Any slight opening may be enough to enhance the possibility of choosing to receive grace.
Do not think that grace is something romantic. Grace is painful truth. It is a touch of the truth. And love. It is painful and warm. We may suffer, but we feel it serves the good. The brain’s neuronal networks process as much as they are capable of; the person is still traumatized, but the brain may register the somatic effect of sensing the divine as attractive, and we may even recognize the source. Or not. It is all about trying, succeeding and failing, analyzing, and trying again. No easy path.
Finally, on the adventurous and self-transcending path – where the person engages in sharing, love, exposing themselves to the painful truth – the brain may, despite pain, validate the experience as safe and rewarding, creating new neuronal connections and pruning the traumatic ones.
All in all, when we are closed, our body generates negative signals (remorse, loneliness, dissonance, etc.), which, via the mind, serve as feedback questioning our state – and we feel something is not right. Conversely, when we are open, the system generates positive feelings (peace, joy, etc.), reinforcing our self-transcendence. This is a simplification of our learning process in relational responsiveness through our embodied experience.
And this learning process is called healing – on both the mental and the spiritual level. Naturally, it might feel good, appealing, even if painful. We may experience that opening ourselves proves to be more liberating than trying to keep control, leading to the release of our light and our true identity, which we may now affirm via our mind. This creates a reinforcement loop where our loving choices strengthen our spiritual sensitivity and fulfilment.
And we are back in the previous chapter, where probably the most important idea was: the spirituality – as our longing for transcendence, where we can fully be ourselves – is fulfilled only through listening to the spirituality; by acknowledging that the fire burns, cleans and shines.
Echo Chamber
The unfortunate scenario is when a person prefers to do anything merely to feel happy – favouring short-term enjoyment without caring about deeper fulfilment. Neurologically, we could simplify this as being driven by immediate reward.
The person witnesses someone else dropping a wallet. There is a decision to be made – between giving it back (forgoing the money but strengthening moral values) and keeping it. For now, let the decision be free of other variables (such as starving children).
If the person decides to keep the wallet, the financial empowerment strengthens the illusions of power and control, and consequently of freedom, as it allows the money to be used for something desired. The spirit acknowledges this feeling of freedom via power as good, naturally strengthening the person’s way of decision-making. (I believe that on the other side there is always grace – as conscience or some other contra-dynamics, so the person has the possibility to choose.)
After a period of power-driven decisions, the person’s brain has probably already developed many bypasses around grace, while the spirit takes them as a necessary toll for the (illusion of) power and control. As a result, the person is not fully at ease, yet desires to feel good – free – seeking to secure their freedom.
The person’s spirit and mind are now in an echo chamber, reinforcing each other’s limited inputs alongside worldly stimuli. This constant reactivation of immediate-reward pathways – both exhausting and (to a limited extent) gratifying – enables the person to generate performed success and fulfilment, even while forcing them to outpace grace or innate spirituality. The pattern strengthens, compelling the person to always make a choice – run faster, or drop it and experience the collapse of a value system built on lies. (Being naked is far from fun.)
Here I would like to draw attention to imagining this echo chamber without grace. I think it is important to understand that it is very difficult, if indeed possible, to break the inertia along the axis of spirituality (longing for love, freedom, true joy) – power (does not need to be obvious) – illusion of freedom and happiness. I assume that the brain would hardly allow it, as the brain cares first and foremost about survival, and the step of acknowledging the truth of living in an illusion – essentially giving up one’s value system, sabotaging both identity and the world map... You can imagine why the impenetrable restriction is inevitable for survival.
I wanted you to imagine the echo chamber without grace, not because I would undervalue the good in us. But because the brain has its own agenda, which serves to protect us from mental breakdown, since losing our identity and world map would cause severe uncertainty and distress. I wanted you to imagine the echo chamber in order to consider how much of our true freedom or faith would be possible without grace. I think we largely lack sufficient independent, self-sabotaging power to open ourselves and respond to outer guidance in order to break the echo. I am not saying it is not possible; just based on my reasoning alone, I assume that breaking the echo and stepping into the unknown in faith is the response of the will predominantly empowered by grace.
Now our relief may come from realizing that even if we are in a state of limited awareness, when we are disabled by perpetuating our power-freedom inertia, it is God, the transcendence, which is persistently calling us. We may breathe out, embracing that the initiation belongs to the divine, within our limits of understanding. Should we find that we cannot decide to open ourselves by sheer effort alone, we can decide to respond to the call that is already present. The echo is then redeemed – rather than being locked in a closed loop, our spirit may experience release, with the mind reflecting the interaction between the spirit and the divine.
The Blind Spot
The million-dollar question then is – when our spirit, our core self, and all the divine are so amazing, why not reveal it directly – and there we are, no need for suffering. Acknowledging that perhaps no one knows the answer, I see a very natural logic behind it – because this is not a game of powers. This is respect for free will. The divine does not need to dominate us, for love is proposing, not forcing; and freedom cannot be forced either.
Thus, although our core self, the spirit, and the divine may seem hidden, it is not because they are absent or dormant, but because the main values of the divine – love and freedom – are not to be forced. Our spirit is always fully present and active, yet its origin and identity may be obscured to itself and our conscious mind in ways arising from several barriers – the historical burden (such as trauma or misguidance), the disordered appetites (inclining toward lower goods), the clouding (by passions or forgetfulness), or simply psychiatric or neurological issues. It can also happen that the story we live temporarily eclipses the spirit itself (e.g., fame), or that the spirit shrinks to the immediate situation (e.g., high stress).
Intermezzo: I hope you are surprised that I mentioned, in one breath, both self-induced and non-self-induced reasons. I did this on purpose. First, what matters is our stance, not our situation. Second, no one truly knows our stance – sometimes not even ourselves. Third, no one knows God’s stance or the workings of the divine.
In the state of unawareness, the spotlight of observing is primarily directed outward through the mind, toward thoughts, emotions, roles, or reactions – as the only true reality, not as something to be observed and questioned. Since the narrative (the mind) cannot turn back toward the observing (the spirit), we are basically becoming identified with our mind, buying into the mind-body story complex as absolute truth. We are giving the brain – our raw neurological pathways – much more space for leadership, where functioning tends to proceed automatically, without much depth, while our spirit is deluded by this simplified reality.
I believe the divine is touching us in ways we can perceive at the given moment, to balance our inertia, and, as a result, to remind us of our free will to reorient ourselves toward our core identity. I also believe that a divine call is always aligned with the strength of our inner structure to bear it – to neither tear it down nor cause distortions, such as inflation (I have such a spirit!), abstraction (gnosticism), or other misconceptions. The delay in realizing one’s spiritual nature is, in this context, not a failure but a protective mercy. Thus, while the veiling of the spirit serves to prevent the self from being wounded by a truth it cannot yet carry, it is up to us to be prepared – by our free decisions to accept the unknown.
Addiction
Despite my knowledge of spirituality and my spiritual identity, it was paradoxically just a little more than an empty story; in reality, my identity apparently existed as an automatic, calculated performance, with myself knocked out somewhere in the corner. If it was laziness, idleness, or objective unpreparedness, I cannot tell. However, I assume that for an extensive period of my life, my mind-body performance served its purpose in securing my mental functioning and survival. Unsurprisingly, an identity dependent on its reflection in others means persistent anxiety: constantly preparing what to say, calculating the right moment to act, or even anticipating situations to ensure readiness.
Ironically, this well-built mental substitute for true identity, which expects admiration as natural feedback for a rather superhuman performance, ultimately prefers solitude. The performance itself is so exhausting and stressful that solitude mitigates the fear of interaction, consequently reinforcing the sense of isolation.
Identity built on this tension is inevitably unsustainable, and when the body’s reserves are depleted, the brain enforces a non-negotiable shut-down – the collapse. In my case, it was an abrupt, terrifying rupture between the brain, which still rushed to survive while concussed in the void, and me, suddenly emerging, fragile, naked, and compelled to remain alive, for being is unconditional.
Yet my anxious identity remained firmly grasped by my brain, as losing identity – any identity – means extreme vulnerability (losing all pillars) and inevitable death (that is the brain’s story – valid from an evolutionary perspective). Hence, my brain has been desperately kicking ever since. One would conclude there is utterly no space for a new, unscripted existence.
Or perhaps, as you already assume, there is. Although that is already the story of healing.