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| Photo by Molly |
Strongheart
Holding a vision of a world that works for all..... "Let yourself be silently drawn by the stronger pull of what you really love." ~ Rumi
Monday, August 24, 2026
Reflections On Our Innate Capacity to Care
Gil Fronsdal: The Most Beautiful Qualities We Have As Humans
| Photo by Molly |
Generosity is not limited to the giving of material things. We can be generous with our kindness and receptivity. Generosity can mean the simple giving of a smile or extending ourselves to really listen to a friend. Paradoxically, even being willing to receive the generosity of others can be a form of generosity.
Mindfulness, by helping us notice our impulses before we act, gives us the opportunity to decide whether to act and how to act.
Buddhism’s cardinal ethical principle is to avoid causing harm.
Nothing whatsoever is worth the cost of a contracted heart.
Our intentions — noticed or unnoticed, gross or subtle contribute either to our suffering or to our happiness. Intentions are sometimes called seeds. The garden you grow depends on the seeds you plant and water. Long after a deed is done, the trace or momentum of the intention behind it remains as a seed, conditioning our future happiness or unhappiness.
The intentions to be kind, compassionate, helpful, happy, and liberated are among the most beautiful qualities we have as humans.
Wisdom Quotes From Rachel Naomi Remen
| Photo by Molly |
Our purpose in life is to grow in wisdom and in love.
Wholeness is never lost, it is only forgotten. Integrity rarely means that we need to add something to ourselves: it is more an undoing than a doing, a freeing ourselves from beliefs we have about who we are and ways we have been persuaded to 'fix' ourselves to know who we genuinely are.
When I have forgiven myself and remembered who I am, I will bless everyone and everything I see. The way to freedom often lies through the open heart.
When we know ourselves to be connected to all others, acting compassionately is simply the natural thing to do.
Perhaps real wisdom lies in not seeking answers at all. Any answer we find will not be true for long. An answer is a place where we can fall asleep as life moves past us to its next question. After all these years I have begun to wonder if the secret of living well is not in having all the answers but in pursuing unanswerable questions in good company.
* * * * *
"Human being" is more a verb than a noun. Each of us is unfinished, a work in progress. Perhaps it would be most accurate to add the word "yet" to all our assessments of ourselves and each other . . . If life is process, all judgments are provisional, we can't judge something until it is finished. No one has won or lost until the race is over . . .
In our instinctive attachments, our fear of change, and our wish for certainty and permanence, we may undercut the impermanence which is our greatest strength, our most fundamental identity. Without impermanence, there is no process. The nature of life is change. All hope is based on process . . .
It is taken me somewhat longer to recognize that a diagnosis is simply another form of judgment. Naming a disease has limited usefulness. It does not capture life or even reflect it accurately. Illness, on the other hand, is a process, like life is.
Much in the concept of diagnosis and cure is about fixing, and the narrow-bore focus on fixing people's problems can lead to denial of the power of their process. Years ago, I took full credit when people became well; their recovery was testimony to my skill and knowledge as a physician. I never recognized that without their biological, emotional, and spiritual process which could respond to my interventions, nothing could have changed at all. All the time I thought I was repairing, I was collaborating.
* * * * *
Few perfectionists can tell the difference between love and approval. Perfectionism is so widespread in this culture that we actually have had to invent another word for love. 'Unconditional love,' we say. Yet, all love is unconditional. Anything else is just approval.
Those who don't love themselves as they are rarely love life as it is either. Most people have come to prefer certain of life's experiences and deny and reject others, unaware of the value of the hidden things that may come wrapped in plain or even ugly paper. In avoiding all pain and seeking comfort at all cost, we may be left without intimacy or compassion; in rejecting change and risk we often cheat ourselves of the quest; in denying our suffering we may never know our strength or our greatness. Or even that the love we have been given can be trusted. It is natural, even instinctive to prefer comfort to pain, the familiar to the unknown. But sometimes our instincts are not wise. Life usually offers us far more than our biases and preferences will allow us to have. Beyond comfort lie grace, mystery, and adventure. We may need to let go of our beliefs and ideas about life in order to have life.
A label is a mask life wears. We put labels on life all the time. "Right," "wrong," "success," "failure," "lucky," "unlucky," may be as limiting a way of seeing things as "diabetic," "epileptic," "manic-depressive," or even "invalid." Labeling sets up an expectation of life that is often so compelling we can no longer see things as they really are. This expectation often gives us a false sense of familiarity toward something that is really new and unprecedented. We are in relationship with our expectations and not with life itself.
Belief traps or frees us.
* * * * *
I am no longer as inspired by expertise as I once was. Perhaps the worth of any lifetime is measured more in kindness than in competency.
Helping, fixing, and serving represent three different ways of seeing life. When you help, you see life as weak. when you fix, you see life as broken. When you serve, you see life as whole. Fixing and helping may be the work of the ego, and service the work of the soul.
Many times when we help we do not really serve. . . . Serving is also different from fixing. One of the pioneers of the Human Potential Movement, Abraham Maslow, said, "If all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail.' Seeing yourself as a fixer may cause you to see brokenness everywhere, to sit in judgment of life itself. When we fix others, we may not see their hidden wholeness or trust the integrity of the life in them. Fixers trust their own expertise. When we serve, we see the unborn wholeness in others; we collaborate with it and strengthen it. Others may then be able to see their wholeness for themselves for the first time.
Wounding and healing are not opposites. They're part of the same thing. It is our wounds that enable us to be compassionate with the wounds of others. It is our limitations that make us kind to the limitations of other people. It is our loneliness that helps us to to find other people or to even know they're alone with an illness. I think I have served people perfectly with parts of myself I used to be ashamed of.
There are only two kinds of people in the world. Those who are alive and those who are afraid.
Every great loss demands that we choose life again. We need to grieve in order to do this. The pain we have not grieved over will always stand between us and life. When we don't grieve, a part of us becomes caught in the past like Lot's wife who, because she looked back, was turned into a pillar of salt.
We burn out not because we don't care but because we don't grieve. We burn out because we have allowed our hearts to become so filled with loss that we have no room left to care.
Suffering shapes the life force, sometimes into anger, sometimes into blame and self-pity. Eventually it may show us the wisdom of embracing and loving life.
The places in which we are seen and heard are holy places. They remind us of our value as human beings. They give us the strength to go on.
From a good teacher you may learn the secret of listening. You will never learn the secret of life. You will have to listen for yourself.
Perhaps the most important thing we bring to another person is the silence in us, not the sort of silence that is filled with unspoken criticism or hard withdrawal. The sort of silence that is a place of refuge, of rest, of acceptance of someone as they are. We are all hungry for this other silence. It is hard to find. In its presence we can remember something beyond the moment, a strength on which to build a life. Silence is a place of great power and healing.
Before every session, I take a moment to remember my humanity. There is no experience that this man has that I cannot share with him, no fear that I cannot understand, no suffering that I cannot care about, because I too am human. No matter how deep his wound, he does not need to be ashamed in front of me. I too am vulnerable. And because of this, I am enough.
* * * * *
Everybody is a story. When I was a child, people sat around kitchen tables and told their stories. We don't do that so much anymore. Sitting around the table telling stories is not just a way of passing time. It is the way the wisdom gets passed along. The stuff that helps us to live a life worth remembering.
It has been said that sometimes we need a story more than food in order to live.
Sometimes when I ask people to tell me their story they tell me about their achievements, what they have acquired or built over a lifetime. So many of us do not know our own story. A story about who we are, not what we have done. About what we have faced to build what we have built, what we have drawn upon and risked to do it, what we have felt, thought, feared, and discovered through the events of our lives. The real story that belongs to us alone.
Most of us lead far more meaningful lives than we know. Often finding meaning is not about doing things differently; it is about seeing familiar things in new ways.
The willingness to consider possibility requires a tolerance of uncertainty.
Whether we are aware of it or not, we will refine the quality of our humanity throughout the course of our lives. More and more, people seek spiritual techniques to help them do this. But joy and suffering will do this for you, too. Every lifetime offers countless opportunities to become more whole.
Life offers its wisdom generously. Everything teaches. Not everyone learns. Life asks of us the same thing we have been asked in every class: "Stay awake." "Pay attention." But paying attention is no simple matter. It requires us not to be distracted by expectations, past experiences, labels, and masks. It asks that we not jump to early conclusions and that we remain open to surprise.
Wisdom comes most easily to those who have the courage to embrace life without judgment and are willing to not know, sometimes for a long time. It requires us to be more fully and simply alive than we have been taught to be. It may require us to suffer. But ultimately we will be more than we were when we began.
* * * * *
Healing may not be so much about getting better, as about letting go of everything that isn’t you — all of the expectations, all of the beliefs — and becoming who you are.
If you carry someone else's fears and live by someone else's values, you may find that you have lived their lives.
Reclaiming ourselves usually means coming to recognize and accept that we have in us both sides of everything. We are capable of fear and courage, generosity and selfishness, vulnerability and strength. These things do not cancel each other out but offer us a full range of power and response to life. Life is as complex as we are. Sometimes our vulnerability is our strength, our fear develops our courage, and our woundedness is the road to our integrity. It is not an either/or world. It is a real world. In calling ourselves "heads" or "tails," we may never own and spend our human currency, the pure gold of which our coin is made.
The marks life leaves on everything it touches transform perfection into wholeness. Older, wiser cultures choose to claim this wholeness in the things that they create. In Japan, Zen gardeners purposefully leave a fat dandelion in the midst of the exquisite, ritually precise patterns of the meditation garden. In Iran, even the most skilled of rug weavers includes an intentional error, the “Persian Flaw,” in the magnificence of a Tabriz or Qashqai carpet…and Native Americans wove a broken bead, the “spirit bead,” into every beaded masterpiece. Nothing that has a soul is perfect. When life weaves a spirit bead into your very fabric, you may stumble upon a wholeness greater than you had dreamed possible before.
Perhaps wisdom is simply a matter of waiting, and healing a question of time. And anything good you've ever been given is yours forever.
* * * * *
I have learned that the things that divide us are far less important than those that connect us.
Perhaps we are no longer a kind people. More and more, we seem to have become numb to the suffering of others and ashamed of our own suffering. Yet suffering is one of the universal conditions of being alive. We all suffer. We have become terribly vulnerable, not because we suffer but because we have separated ourselves from each other.
When we approve of people, we sit in judgment of them as surely as when we criticize them. ...To seek approval is to have no resting place, no sanctuary. Like all judgment, approval encourages a constant striving. It makes us uncertain of who we are and of our true value. This is as true of the approval we give ourselves as it is of the approval we offer others. Approval can't be trusted. It can be withdrawn at any time no matter what our track record has been. It is as nourishing of real growth as cotton candy. Yet many of us spend our lives pursuing it.
But judgment may heal over time. One of the blessings of growing older is the discovery that many of the things I once believed to be my shortcomings have turned out in the long run to be my strengths, and other things of which I was unduly proud have revealed themselves in the end to be among my shortcomings. Things that I have hidden from others for years turn out to be the anchor and enrichment of my middle age. What a blessing it is to outlive your self-judgments and harvest your failures.
* * * * *
She walked on in this way for several more minutes and at last came to a place in the labyrinth close to the circumference of the circle where the path unexpectedly turns sharply to the right. As you turn, you discover that you have reached the end of the path and a few more steps will take you to the center of the circle. Turning to the right, Glory suddenly felt the pinecone in her hands move as if it had become her own living heart.
Deeply shaken, she looked up for the first time and found an unmistakable Presence in the center of the labyrinth, waiting for her. For just the briefest moment she could see Him quite clearly. His heart was open, a place of refuge for all who suffer. It had been broken open by the suffering in the world in the same way hers had been.
Suddenly she understood why others had come to her for refuge since her childhood. The suffering she was able to feel had made her trustworthy. She stumbled the last few steps into the center of the labyrinth, knelt down, and for the first time since she was a child, she wept.
In a talk about compassion, a former teacher of mine once said that practice prepares the mind, but suffering prepares the heart. Perhaps the final step in the healing of all wounds is the discovery of the capacity for compassion, an intuitive knowing that no one is singled out in their suffering, that all living beings are vulnerable to loss, attachment, and limitation. It is only in the presence of compassion that we can show our wounds without diminishing our wholeness.
The Dalai Lama has said that “compassion occurs only between equals.” For those who have compassion, woundedness is not a place of judgment but a place of genuine meeting.
* * * * *
A colleague told me that he thinks of his life as an orchestra. Reclaiming his integrity reminds him of that moment before the concert when the concertmaster asks the oboist to sound an A. 'At first there is chaos and noise as all parts of the orchestra try to align themselves with that note. But as each instrument moves closer and closer to it, the noise diminishes and when they all finally sound it together, there is a moment of rest, of homecoming.'
'That is how it feels to me,' he told me. 'I am always tuning my orchestra. Somewhere deep inside there is a sound that is mine alone, and I struggle daily to hear it and tune my life to it. Sometimes there are people and situations that help me to hear my note more clearly; other times, people and situations make it harder for me to hear. A lot depends on my commitment to listening and my intention to stay coherent with this note. It is only when my life is tuned to my note that I can play life's mysterious and holy music without tainting it with my own discordance, my own bitterness, resentment, agenda, and fears.'
Deep inside, our integrity sings to us whether we are listening or not. It is a note that only we can hear.
* * * * *
Over the years I have seen the power of taking an unconditional relationship to life. I am surprised to have found a sort of willingness to show up for whatever life may offer and meet with it rather than wishing to edit and change the inevitable...When people begin to take such an attitude, they seem to become intensely alive, intensely present. Their losses and suffering have not caused them to reject life, have not cast them into a place of resentment, victimization, or bitterness.
From such people, I have learned a new definition of the word 'joy.' I had thought joy to be rather synonymous with happiness, but it seems now to be far less vulnerable than happiness. Joy seems to be part of an unconditional wish to live, not holding back because life may not meet our preferences and expectations. Joy seems to be a function of the willingness to accept the whole, and to show up to meet with whatever is there. It has a kind of invincibility that attachment to any particular outcome would deny us. Rather than the warrior who fights toward a specific outcome and therefore is haunted by the specter of failure and disappointment, it is the lover drunk with the opportunity to love despite the possibility of loss, the player for whom playing has become more important than winning or losing.
The willingness to win or lose moves us out of an adversarial relationship to life and into a powerful kind of openness. From such a position, we can make a greater commitment to life. Not only pleasant life, or comfortable life, or our idea of life, but all life. Joy seems more closely related to aliveness than happiness.
The strength that I notice developing in many of my patients and in myself after all these years could almost be called a form of curiosity. What one of my colleagues calls fearlessness. At one level, of course, I fear outcome as much as anyone. But more and more I am able to move in and out of that and to experience a place beyond preference for outcome, a life beyond life and death. It is a place of freedom, even anticipation. Decisions made from this perspective are life-affirming and not fear-driven. It is a grace.
* * * * *
I no longer feel that life is ordinary. Everyday life is filled with mystery. The things we know are only a small part of the things we cannot know but can only glimpse. Yet even the smallest of glimpses can sustain us.
Mystery seems to have the power to comfort, to offer hope, and to lend meaning in times of loss and pain. In surprising ways it is the mysterious that strengthens us at such times. I used to try to offer people certainty in times that were not at all certain and could not be made certain. I now just offer my companionship and share my sense of mystery, of the possible, of wonder. After twenty years of working with people with cancer, I find it possible to neither doubt nor accept the unprovable but simply to remain open and wait.
I accept that I may never know where truth lies in such matters. The most important questions don't seem to have ready answers. But the questions themselves have a healing power when they are shared. An answer is an invitation to stop thinking about something, to stop wondering. Life has no such stopping places, life is a process whose every event is connected to the moment that just went by. An unanswered question is a fine traveling companion. It sharpens your eye for the road.
When we recognize the spark of God in others, we blow on it with our attention and strengthen it. No matter how deeply it has been buried or for how long .... When we bless someone, we touch the unborn goodness in them and wish it well.
It is not that we have a soul, but that we are a soul.
Wendell Berry: The Peace of Wild Things
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
Saturday, August 22, 2026
EXCELLENT — Lissa Rankin: No, You Don’t Need To Get Over Your Ego. You Might Actually Need To Strengthen It.
WOW! This hits the nail on the head! Illuminated here is why I remained stuck for so long in a range of painful and harmful symptoms of old trauma — including for many years into my recovery from substance addiction. That said, one of my earliest and deeply beloved resources on my healing journey, the psychologist and author of Circle of Stones Judith Duerk,, frequently spoke of the need to develop a strong healthy ego. But I didn't truly understand what she meant.
At that time, I was also swept up in Eckart Tolle and other New Age spiritual bypassers — all of whom, in part, served to keep me lost, hurting, disassociated, and disempowered. What I recognize today that is also true is that the counselors and therapists I was seeing for the first two decades on my healing journey had not done their own deeper work of strengthening their healthy egos and their connection with Self. They were largely unaware of cutting edge trauma-informed practices and what Lissa Rankin articulates so well in this article. And what I understand so well today is that no one can empower anyone else to go further than they have first gone themselves.
Illuminated in this article by Lissa Rankin are glimpses into why I was continuing to react out of trauma triggers for years into recovery, why I was vulnerable to being drawn to a charismatic therapist who I saw for years and who turned out to be a narcissist, why I was part of and stayed in an unhealthy marriage for 31 years, and why each of our sons developed symptoms in adolescence of generational trauma. All of this and more continued to happen years into my sobriety and years into getting the counseling and help that I thought I'd needed to break painful cycles of ancestral trauma for myself and my children.
I have learned so much the hard way. And today I am profoundly grateful for those such as Dr. Lissa and other wise souls who truly understand trauma and how we can be empowered to heal, unburden, and transform even the most painful wounds we have experienced in our lifetimes. Read on. Powerful medicine. — Molly
If you’ve spent any time in spiritual circles, you’ve probably heard some version of these “get out of your ego” teachings. They are repeated so often that they’ve become almost unquestioned in certain communities. The implication is that your ego is the sole obstacle standing between you and enlightenment, inner peace, divine love, awakening, spiritual guidance, perpetual bliss, and freedom from suffering.
But what if that’s exactly backwards? What if, instead of needing to destroy your ego, you actually need to strengthen it? Sure, some people are full of themselves and humility might be the right medicine for them. But many people who are drawn to spiritual seeking are not suffering because they have too much ego; they’re suffering because they don’t have enough.
Ego Strength Is Not The Same As Egotism
- Know who you are without needing constant validation.
- Maintain your own thoughts even when others disagree.
- Set boundaries without excessive guilt.
- Hold people accountable when they’re hurting you.
- Say no.
- Respect the autonomy of other people.
- Protect yourself from abuse.
- Take responsibility for your mistakes.
- Recover after failure.
- Stay connected during conflict without losing yourself.
- Trust your own perceptions.
Lissa Rankin: What's Wrong With The Power Of Now?
Deconstruction Eckhart Tolle, Ram Dass, Byron Katie & Other Presence Teachings Through A Trauma-Informed Social Justice Lens
In 2015, Rachel and I went into Karen Drucker’s recording studio and recorded hours and hours of content. I was listening to those recordings yesterday, and Rachel led a meditation. I closed my eyes and followed along. Her voice is hynotic, and I can go very deep, very quickly when I hear it. She always says something like “Pay attention to that moment of peace at the end of your out breath.” And I can dive into the depths of my consciousness with a feeling of great peace.
But what Rachel never did is suggest, when I was in an acute trigger, that I should “be here now” or “let go of the past” or “stop thinking about the future.” She could guide me into the now without ever shaming me for having parts ruminating about the past or parts scared about the future.
Obviously, there is great benefit in mindfulness practices that allow us to be more present in the here and now, with less ruminating about things from the past that we cannot change or anxieties about an unknown and uncertain future. Trauma survivors have a tendency to have hurt or scared parts that get stuck in the painful past, as well as catastrophizing, future tripping parts that get anxious about the future. If our minds are so busy that we can’t actually be here in the present moment, we can miss so many of the joys of life that happen in the moment of now.
So, of course, being here now is often a useful teaching, but only if it’s trauma-informed.
It’s important to understand that not everyone has an equally easy time being here now. To suggest that all it takes is the reminder of a cliche can land on others as lacking in empathy and out of touch with lived reality. For untreated, unhealed trauma survivors still stuck reliving the past or for anyone who isn’t actually safe in the here and now because they’re actively getting oppressed, instructing someone to “Be here now” can come off as tone deaf.
Consider the utopian idea that “enlightenment” means that, like Eckhart Tolle and Byron Katie claim to do, you live only in the present moment and don’t get lost in ruminations about the past or anxieties about the future. First, that assumes that you’re safe in the present moment. Because if you’re being targeted for a hate crime in the present moment, if you’re an immigrant in the US right now being chased by ICE, if you’re a woman whose rights are being stripped by Trump America, if you’re a BIPOC male who just got stopped by cops, no amount of being here now is going to stop you from being legitimately scared about the reality of the dangers of such a present moment. Fear would be a legitimate response, informed by the historical knowledge that so many innocent people have been oppressed and murdered and that far too many injustices are real, right here, right now.
Add to this that if you have Complex PTSD from lifelong trauma, whether from a high Adverse Childhood Experience (ACE) score, developmental trauma, or collective traumas like being BIPOC or LGBTQIA+ or Jewish or Gazan or an immigrant in America, you’re likely to have frequent emotional flashbacks, even if you don’t have visual ones. Unless you get treatment for all that lifelong trauma, you will be unlikely to be able to mindfully meditate yourself into focusing only on the present moment without dissociating and disembodying, which is a trauma symptom, not enlightenment.
Even if it’s safe in that particular moment, it wasn’t necessarily safe in the past, and it may not be safe again in the future. While these teachings may be very helpful for some, teachers who claim to only live in the perpetual NOW reveal their privilege through such teachings. Not only are they most likely deceiving people—because they’re human and I don’t believe in human enlightenment. It’s also true that not all sentient beings on the planet have the luxury of basking in detached, peaceful, dispassionate equanimity in the bliss of now.
What’s Wrong With The Power of Now?
We can probably all agree that it can be helpful to be more present—here in the now, aware of your emotions, embodied in your flesh, present with your pain, not looping old stories repetitively and not worrying too much about the future. That’s why trauma therapy is so important. Because unless we treat the traumas that all of us have, it’s unavoidable for us to flash into past hurts, regrets, or memories. It’s also normal for us to plan for, worry about, or fantasize about the future. Only when we know how to tend to and be with our past traumas, only when we’re present with the parts of us stuck in the past or concerned about the future without bypassing them, only when our future feels legitimately safe enough, and only when “now” is not dangerous can we truly be in the potential relaxation of the present moment.
But what if your “now” isn’t blissful? What if you’re a legal observer filming an immigrant raid and you’re innocent but getting killed by ICE in the present moment? What if your house is burning in a wildfire and the air is thick with smoke and burning your lungs and eyes? What if your belly is aching from hunger? What if a cop pulls you over for speeding and you wind up in a choke hold in the now? When your life is in danger—as so many lives are right now—now may not be such a happy place.
No amount of meditation is going to make you not scared when your safety is legitimately threatened, not in a healthy human body, anyway. Only people who are dissociating stop feeling real and necessary human emotions, like fear, when their safety is threatened. This is why “be here now” teachings can be confusing and may not be helpful to people whose safety is actually at risk or who have not had the privilege of access to cutting edge trauma therapies often not covered by insurance.
It can be especially confusing and potentially damaging when unintegrated, dissociated “presence teachers” sell the idea that enlightenment means you’ll never be triggered, you’ll never feel pain, suffering is optional, your ego will just die, and all human suffering will cease at that moment and never return. It’s such a lovely fantasy. Who doesn’t want instant enlightenment and the end of pain and suffering forever? Only it’s not true.
It certainly sets up a hierarchy, doesn’t it? The enlightened person is special and all those less special people who feel painful emotions must be in some way inferior. But where’s the empathy or honesty in this? Why would we even want to teach something that positions people who actually feel suffering in their hearts, minds, or bodies as “less than?”
Dissociation Is Not To Be Glorified
I once heard Byron Katie say that she wakes up every day and sees her husband as a brand new human that she doesn’t even recognize, so fresh in the now that he has to introduce himself, like the traumatic brain injury survivor Drew Barrymore does to Adam Sandler in the romantic comedy 50 First Dates. How bewildering to suggest that enlightenment means that you’ll lose your memory of the past or your ability to plan for the future! That’s not enlightenment; that’s the result of severe physical or emotional trauma. While these teachers may not have experienced a traumatic brain injury, they do seem to be experiencing chronic dissociation, which is a severe trauma symptom.
We’ve all heard of the extreme cases of dissociation—the Multiple Personality Disorders (now called Dissociative Identity Disorders) typified by movies like Sybil and The Three Faces of Eve. Yet dissociation happens on a spectrum, and Dissociative Identity Disorder is a rare extreme of the common phenomena of dissociation. At its most benign and basic, dissociation happens to all of us when we’re daydreaming or when we drive somewhere on autopilot and arrive at our destination without really being aware how we got there. We even consciously choose to dissociate when we practice escapism and get absorbed into fiction novels, binge watch Netflix, use consciousness-altering substances like alcohol or marijuana, practice transcendent forms of meditation, or even sometimes when we wind up in flow states. When time/space awareness disappears and you’re fully absorbed in running, making art, making love, or otherwise entering ecstatic realms, that can feel really great. But it can also be a pleasant form of dissociation.
Voluntary dissociation is different than involuntary dissociation, which is a trauma symptom and happens on autopilot, sometimes as a default setting. When this happens, it’s like a switch flips and you disconnect and detach from your sensory experience, your thoughts, your sense of self, your body, your awareness of time, place, and identity, your sense that the world is real and you belong to it, and even your personal history and memories. Dissociation impacts your consciousness, identity, memory, emotions, self-awareness, awareness of your surroundings, and embodiment. You could say that its opposite is a kind of integrated wholeness alive with presence, awareness, sensation, embodiment, emotions, intact critical thinking, a healthy weaving between aspects of your being, and a good strong reality check.
Anytime you’ve had an out of body experience, like a near death experience, a sense of floating above yourself (as might occur during a traumatic event), astral travel, mystical journeying to other realms, meditative experiences when you transcend or leave your body, or even a kind of waking dream state, it’s likely that you’re dissociating. As such, it’s an intelligent strategy that may have helped you survive hard times—or even unbearable or deplorable times, such as childhood physical or sexual abuse or living through wartime.
When your body isn’t a safe place to be or when your emotions are just too intense for your young nervous system to handle, it makes sense that you’d leave your body and go someplace where it doesn’t hurt so much. As a child, you might even become so masterful at dissociating that you reflexively check out that way once you’re an adult. Or you might just dissociate automatically. When you’re dissociated, you don’t tend to feel your painful emotions, you can numb or leave your body, you may not remember bad things that happened to you, and you may even gain access to ecstatic mystical realms that fill you with hormones like oxytocin, endorphins, dopamine, and serotonin, giving you a kind of blissed out (but spaced out) high.
What Is Dissociation?
You might notice that some of the characteristics of dissociation sound remarkably like what spiritual teachers associate with some transcendent state. Notice the similarities of the following characteristics, and then notice how they track with the awakening stories of Byron Katie and Eckhart Tolle, in their own words...
Please go here for the original article: https://lissarankinmd.substack.com/p/be-here-now-unless-now-is-dangerous



