This is Amy.
I wanted to take a post to put a personal spin on Chloe's last two writings. I think Chloe did an excellent job explaining the ideas behind Ego and Shadow; and I think the question "Why?" is exactly what needs to be addressed when trying to understand the battle of our consciousness.
What is my ego? What do I show to others? An independent, calm, happy, confident young woman; a hard-working aspiring entrepreneur.
What, then, is lurking in my shadow?
When my ego is attacked, a tiny light exposes my shadow, a part of me that is nestled deep in my gut where it lies usually undisturbed. If this happens, I don't turn to anger (as many do), rather sadness. Tears; and lots of them. As Chloe depicted, they flow from my eyes like lava from a volcano.
So yesterday, upon returning from a (mostly) business trip to Ethiopia, I found myself crying uncontrollably after a phone conversation with my oldest sister and business partner, Shelby.
Did Shelby say something mean to me? No. Did she tell me bad news? No, thank god.
After telling her that a particular Ethiopian mogul expressed interest in doing business with our company, she started asking me questions about numbers; investments, budgets, and other business jargon that I did not have answers to.
And there, my friends, (or friend, Chloe, since I'm not sure anyone else is reading this...) is where my ego was bruised and my shadow was exposed. I didn't know.
The independent, confident, hard-working entrepreneur should know. A young, unsure, inexperienced twenty-three year old didn't.
If being independent, confident, and knowledgable, etc. are what make up my ego; needing help, being unsure, and not knowing are what make up my shadow. In this instance, my ego was under attack and my shadow was vulnerable. And what was my defense mechanism? A barrage of tears and immense sadness.
A similar thing happens when my mother or father offers advice about my entrepreneurial endeavors. I become defensive and dismissive. With each piece of advice they offer, I've felt like they are chipping away at my ego and exposing my shadow. I don't start crying each time, but I do act uncharacteristically, dismissive and rude.
How can I better control myself? To not cry or become dismissive and rude?
Take the time to ask "Why?"
Why do I feel sad? Why am I becoming dismissive? The answer is there, lurking in my shadow.
I am learning to bring to my consciousness the fact that I need other people; I'm learning to embrace the fact that I do not know everything. By doing this, by integrating those things that I've tried to suppress, I am able to, as Chloe put so nicely, "become more whole, more balanced, and less threatened by others."
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
To Ask "Why?"
I've been thinking about the values of society, specifically in regards
to the religious and scientific communities. I can't seem to sit through
one show without asking my husband to press pause so that I can discuss
my latest thought with him. Poor guy. Thank goodness for DVR.
While my ideas may not always come at the opportune time, this quality is one I personally value. The ability to reflect upon the meaning of things, to attempt to understand how the pieces fit together, is what distinguishes us from other species. Unlike other animals, we have (or were given) more advanced capabilities of thought. Regardless of an individual's level of intelligence, the opportunity to pursue greater knowledge is available to all humans alike.
Do we take for granted our responsibility to ask "why"?
A few days ago I performed long division by hand. Prior to that, I can't remember the last time I did math without plugging numbers into a calculator, regardless of how simple the calculation would be. I looked at the numbers I had drawn out and thought about how absolutely incredible this formula was. It seems so simple, but that is only because we know how it works. But do we know, or care to know, why it works?
Take this picture as an example. We learn at an early age how long division is executed. The diagram above shows it pretty clearly. However, each step is its own miracle. When you take 5 away from 9 and end up with 4, then you bring the 6 down to create a new number (46) to divide from, it works to provide you with the next number of the response. I find it awe-inspiring that someone figured this out, and I wish I could understand why they knew that it would work. As I am writing this, I am not sure if I am properly explaining my distinction between "how" and "why". Maybe another example would provide better clarification.
Since moving to sunny California, I have been struggling with a variety of medical issues, from acid reflux and unexplained hives to a torn rotator cuff. However minor the issues, the combination of these problems has me frustrated. I feel as though I have seen half the doctors in this neighborhood, and I end up with a new prescription every week. For me, this is another illustration of the difference between "how" and "why", where, as a society, we are not taking full advantage of our ability to ask the more meaningful question. "How does a person get hives?" has a simple answer: the body responds to something that causes a release of histamine into the skin; whereas "Why does a person get hives?" encourages the inquirer to know what that something is. Instead of giving me a prescription for an anti-histamine and sending me on my way to "treat" the problem, should we not see it as a mutual responsibility to determine the cause of the problem, to ask "why" it is happening?
Another topic that has been on my mind recently, that helped to motivate this thought process, is organized religion. I think it is necessary that I provide a disclaimer preemptively, as I understand that religion will always be a controversial topic, and I hope that anyone reading this knows that I mean no disrespect to anyone's belief system. In fact, that is kind of my point. I do not feel as though I know the 'truth' at this point in my life, and I hope that I am not seen as sacrilegious for that reason. The concept of faith, which means literally to believe in something without question, is essential to any system of religious beliefs. Perhaps the reason I struggle with defining my religious beliefs is because I value speculation and inquisition so highly. I want my faith to be my own, based on the conclusions I draw from the questions I ask, rather than because I am told that something is true. I often feel as though I am looked down upon for this position - that if I have faith in something that does not come from recognized scripture, my faith is less valid. Similarly to my thoughts about long division and the 'treatment' of medical issues, though obviously on a grander and more significant scale, I want to do more than accept information. I see exploration, the human capability of asking why something is the way it is, as a responsibility to worship.
While my ideas may not always come at the opportune time, this quality is one I personally value. The ability to reflect upon the meaning of things, to attempt to understand how the pieces fit together, is what distinguishes us from other species. Unlike other animals, we have (or were given) more advanced capabilities of thought. Regardless of an individual's level of intelligence, the opportunity to pursue greater knowledge is available to all humans alike.
Do we take for granted our responsibility to ask "why"?
A few days ago I performed long division by hand. Prior to that, I can't remember the last time I did math without plugging numbers into a calculator, regardless of how simple the calculation would be. I looked at the numbers I had drawn out and thought about how absolutely incredible this formula was. It seems so simple, but that is only because we know how it works. But do we know, or care to know, why it works?
Since moving to sunny California, I have been struggling with a variety of medical issues, from acid reflux and unexplained hives to a torn rotator cuff. However minor the issues, the combination of these problems has me frustrated. I feel as though I have seen half the doctors in this neighborhood, and I end up with a new prescription every week. For me, this is another illustration of the difference between "how" and "why", where, as a society, we are not taking full advantage of our ability to ask the more meaningful question. "How does a person get hives?" has a simple answer: the body responds to something that causes a release of histamine into the skin; whereas "Why does a person get hives?" encourages the inquirer to know what that something is. Instead of giving me a prescription for an anti-histamine and sending me on my way to "treat" the problem, should we not see it as a mutual responsibility to determine the cause of the problem, to ask "why" it is happening?
Another topic that has been on my mind recently, that helped to motivate this thought process, is organized religion. I think it is necessary that I provide a disclaimer preemptively, as I understand that religion will always be a controversial topic, and I hope that anyone reading this knows that I mean no disrespect to anyone's belief system. In fact, that is kind of my point. I do not feel as though I know the 'truth' at this point in my life, and I hope that I am not seen as sacrilegious for that reason. The concept of faith, which means literally to believe in something without question, is essential to any system of religious beliefs. Perhaps the reason I struggle with defining my religious beliefs is because I value speculation and inquisition so highly. I want my faith to be my own, based on the conclusions I draw from the questions I ask, rather than because I am told that something is true. I often feel as though I am looked down upon for this position - that if I have faith in something that does not come from recognized scripture, my faith is less valid. Similarly to my thoughts about long division and the 'treatment' of medical issues, though obviously on a grander and more significant scale, I want to do more than accept information. I see exploration, the human capability of asking why something is the way it is, as a responsibility to worship.
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