What is the nature of reality? Is there an actual, objective reality that exists independent of our observation of it? Or is all reality only in the perception of the observer? How can two people experience the same event but come away with completely distinct experiences of it? It’s heady stuff to think about, isn’t it? I mean, many of us don’t even see with the same color palette; the existence of color blindness – where certain colors are not perceived by the viewer, tetrachromacy – where more colors than usual are perceived by the viewer, and other such conditions, serves as a reminder that each of us literally sees the world just a little differently. What about the tragic effects of mental illnesses such as schizophrenia or dementia, which completely alter a person’s perception of reality? What do the experiences of a person in the throes of a mental delusion have to teach us about our own relationship with reality? Can we really go through life assuming every thought that crosses our mind is the absolute truth about us and our reality? Isn’t it possible that we’re basing what we call our reality on at least a few assumptions we’ve made throughout life that are actually completely false? Is there maybe some room to question what we think just a little?
I’ve called us human-beings “meaning-makers” in a previous post. Tell me, what has it been like for you to go through this life without an owner’s manual? Sure, you had parents to guide you on your path, but even the very best of parents are still merely winging it when it comes right down to it. None of us come into this life, and none of us leave it, knowing exactly what to do and what it’s all about. So, what do we do? We act, observe the result, and learn from the experience. This is everything. This is life as a human. This is not just a thing we do, it is what we do. It’s how we’ve evolved to gain success as a species. We are just so good at it.
Consider primordial man. He tastes a berry and it’s delicious. He tastes another similar-looking berry and it’s bitter and causes him to be sick for the rest of the day. He learns to avoid the second berry. He learns that a vicious family of boars share the same watering hole so he learns to look for the signs that tell him whether they are near as he approaches. He learns that, if he provides food and protection for females he assures his access to sex. He learns to watch the sky for rain and take shelter when it comes. He learns what body language from a rival indicates deference, or aggression. Through all of this he learns his place in the world and forms his concept of reality. He learns to survive.
And survive man did. And thrive we have, throughout the millennia. And as man thrived, our needs changed. We no longer had to worry about the boars or the rain or which berry to pick, for the most delicious berries were on our table, next to the boar, as the rain pounded the roof over our heads and the walls we erected all around us, keeping us warm and dry within. We climbed the ladder of Maslow’s hierarchy and set our sights on that final frontier of human need: love.
To be loved; to be accepted; to be understood. This became human pursuit from infancy. The drive for love, and the lack thereof, have led to much human achievement and suffering in equal measure.
Consider the human child. From a young age we rely on others for just about everything. We often learn that, the more “loved” we are by others, the better we’re treated. We also learn that love from others is more often than not, conditional; that our actions largely determine whether or not we are “loved.” The fiery child who speaks her mind and always has something to say about everything may quickly learn that her parent’s prefer that a little girl be seen and not heard. Thus, she squelches her fire rather than displease or drive away her source of “love.”
The kid who falls and is told to “jump up, brush it off, and don’t cry,” learns quickly that his emotions are not okay and it is certainly not okay to express them. Thus, he toughens up, hardens himself, and never properly learns to express, or even address and engage with his own emotions.
As we grow older, we often learn new and more intricate conditions upon which others’ love is based. We learn that we must be something or someone in particular to gain love and acceptance. We take on identities based on profession, income level, dress, religion, what we talk about, what we consume; whatever is societally acceptable and gains us the most acceptance and “love” from those around us. A man who grows up in a particular religion learns that the more he exemplifies the personality traits, actions and morality extolled by his religious community, the more acceptance, admiration, and praise he receives within that community. Conversely, God forbid he act or speak in any way contrary to the views of his community, no matter how authentic to himself such action may actually feel.
A woman who grows up with a father whose only concern is his business may learn that the only way she can even gain access to her father, let alone his approval or “love,” is by making a successful business person of herself. Thus she constructs her life after that image, placing on the back-burner any dreams of artistry and creativity in the process.
Good, bad; broken, healthy; fat, fit; righteous, unworthy; weak, determined; smart, dumb; ugly, attractive; successful, poor; “man”, “woman”; mother, father; son, daughter… Labels. We learn and work and suffer and strive to earn them, or to spurn them. Each one represents the place we’ve learned to have in this reality; our reality.
We are meaning-making machines; built from the ground up to act, observe the result, and learn. We do it as a reflex; without even knowing it! So what happens when we wake up? What happens when we realize that the labels aren’t serving us? What happens when we turn on the light switch and decide that we will now be the ones determining what we believe about ourselves; what our place is in our reality? This is what it means to be awakened: to become the conscious master of your own reality. This is what it means to be an alchemist: to transmute the base energy of behaving based on reflex out of a need for survival, to the living-gold of behaving based on conscious intention out of a desire for more: More happiness, more peace, and to be more authentically ourselves.
The Alchemy Life 