Finding Autonomy, Part One
Great strength inevitably becomes great weakness.
This is because of our tendency to over-rely on what makes us feel powerful, effective, and respected—a tendency that unintentionally transforms our attitude of justifiable pride and self-respect into one of arrogance and superiority. A tendency, moreover, that holds as true for organizations, corporations, and governments as it does for individuals.
Because people equate success with winning, they strive to use their strength to take advantage of the weakness they perceive in others. And if no weakness exists other than a trusting nature, this can be turned to advantage by convincing the other that their natural state contains some innate flaw that actually constitutes a weakness. Or, contrariwise, if the other has no weakness but distrust, this, too, can be turned to advantage by constantly feinting and bluffing until the other is provoked into wasting resources and energy reacting to an illusory threat.
We come to feel strong, in other words, when we can make others feel weak.
Even if such behavior could be justified ethically, it would still prove to be short-sighted and self-defeating: clearly those who dominate others are dependent on those who submit to them—and as time goes on, those who submit can only grow stronger while those who dominate can only grow weaker. As the conscience of the victors evolves, their guilt and remorse diminishes them within, even as the determination of the defeated empowers and ennobles them within. The way in which time turns the table on the strong by giving the weak a moral victory is the basis of all the great failures of history, whether they be in the lives of nations, groups, or individuals.
To exercise strength against others, therefore, is to plant the seeds of our own misfortune.
To exercise strength without diminishing others, however, is to plant the seeds of our own good fortune.
It is not just force, though, that makes us weak. The strength of intellect and reason likewise becomes a great weakness when relied upon too much—without a sense of loving-kindness and compassion, reason becomes sterile and, ultimately, mere justification for acting in bad faith. No less can be said for the emotions and passions, of course, which begin as authentic motives for positive actions—but which, when over-used, end up transformed into reflex reactions striving for control over uncontrollable circumstances. The memory, too, develops from a positive tool providing continuity and adaptability into a mechanism that fossilizes the past, creating thereby the false sense of self that eclipses the living presence of the true self.
So it is for all the attributes we hold as empowering—faith becomes dogma, intimacy becomes intolerance, love becomes possessiveness, trust becomes revenge, patriotism becomes antagonism, intuition becomes worry, planning becomes routine, nostalgia becomes isolation, sincerity becomes pomposity, light-heartedness becomes triviality, frugality becomes avarice, generosity becomes coercion, and so on and so forth.
To open the front door to what makes us stronger is to let what makes us weaker slip in the back.
So if the very strengths we depend on to achieve success and contentment actually contain the seeds of future failure and disappointment, then how do we free ourselves from all the dependencies keeping us from reaching our true potential?
Why, in the midst of so much opportunity for advancement, do we find ourselves blocked at every turn?
How do we make our way along the path of good fortune without becoming inhumane and opportunistic?
Such are the questions the Lesson Of Autonomy answers.
This is the I Ching trigram for Heaven. It symbolizes creative power and the right to change things for the better. The basis of its power is not its own strength, however, but its spontaneous and uncontrived expression of the underlying harmony of the world. It speaks of our need to recognize the omnipresent source at work in the on-going creation of the world and then to align ourselves with it. By sensing the unconstrained nature of Heaven within, we train ourselves to achieve inner Autonomy.
The heart of Autonomy lies in self-control. Without self-control, our demeanor gives away our innermost thoughts and feelings, making it impossible to have an independent interior life. Without self-control, our emotions and thoughts are driven by our instincts into actions that are too defensive, offensive, or self-gratifying. Without self-control, our ambition causes us to over-reach, bringing others and ourselves unnecessary grief. Without self-control, our imaginations run wild, creating a world of false hopes and fears. Without self-control, our desire to be appreciated and accepted trips us up, causing us to blunder through our relationships. Without self-control, our desire to see ourselves in the best possible light deludes us, causing us to project our worst qualities onto others even as we imagine ourselves to possess qualities and motives above reproach.
Without self-control, in other words, our inner world leaks out into the outer world, causing us to intrude on the independence of others. And without self-control, the outer world leaks into our inner world, intruding on our own independence.
What is this personal independence that each of us possesses—and why is it important that its integrity be maintained? An intrinsic aspect of the wisdom teachings affirms that everything, and particularly everything living, has at its core an essence that is identical to the essence in every other living thing. This essence is not an abstract or inconsequential part of each thing, moreover, but the fundamental and quintessential element making up the very awareness of each living being itself. So fundamental is it, in fact, that this universal essence can go unobserved for an entire lifetime if we fail to turn our attention to its living presence. While it is known by many names, it answers to none of them: because it is, in fact, the underlying awareness that names everything, it cannot itself be named.
Let us follow the precedent set by many others and call it the true self.
It is here that we stand on the threshold of The Great Mystery: how is it that the One divides into the Many without ever forfeiting its wholeness? how is it that the Many unite in the One in such a way that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts? how is it, in other words, that our individual awareness is simultaneously part of the one awareness and yet experiences itself as cut off and separate from all other individual awarenesses—and how do we not interfere with our individual awareness’ effort to reunite with the one awareness? It is The Great Mystery because every true self must pass through this gate of individual awareness to rediscover the hidden path back to the One Self. For millennia, the source of profound awe and wonder has resided in contemplation of how the timeless and immortal One enters the temporal and mortal Many.
Crossing the threshold of The Great Mystery brings us to the Third Paradox Of Wisdom: by fully experiencing the individual life, we remember the universal life—by participating fully in the relative realm, we return to the absolute realm. While the full meaning of this paradox can only be experienced first-hand, one of its principal implications is that the absolute realm of the One is not different than, nor separate from, the relative realm of the Many. The first-hand experience of this paradox has long been called awakening, while those who are not yet aware that awareness is matter are often seen as still sleepwalking through the relative realm.
Persons who approach wisdom by relying too much on the strength of their intellect run the risk of reading the above as if it were addressed to the head rather than the heart. What is meant by first-hand experience is that the intellectual meaning is translated into an emotional meaning, the depth of which can be measured by the physical response we experience in our body. While there is no precise description of the physical sensations that accompany this emotional understanding, it is certain that experiences unaccompanied by such bodily sensations have failed to fully incorporate the meaning of The Great Mystery. Awe and wonder must strike us to the bone, sink into the marrow, and permeate the very atoms of awareness: unless first-hand experience is fully integrated throughout our material and immaterial bodies, the relative self and the true self are not consciously united in a single identity.
The true self, then, is the immaterial body that stands at the end of eternity, perfected and at one with the One—and has so stood since before eternity began. The relative self is the sum of all the material body’s experiences. Awakening occurs when the relative self remembers the true self.
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The above is an excerpt from The Spiritual Basis of Good Fortune by William Douglas Horden.
If you’d like to learn more, visit the website: http://spiritualbasisofgoodfortune.com/
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The Toltec I Ching, by Martha Ramirez-Oropeza and William Douglas Horden has just been released by Larson Publications. It recasts the I Ching in the symbology of the Native Americans of ancient Mexico and includes original illustrations interpreting each of the hexagrams. Its subtitle, 64 Keys to Inspired Action in the New World hints at its focus on the ethics of the emerging world culture.
Click here to go to the main site to see sample chapters, reviews and the link to Larson Publications for ordering the book.
