"Events unfold in the river of time, but are they real, or do we make them real by reiterating them as the events that shaped our life? "
A Deeper Look at the Past
Do we actually have a past, or is the past the collection of conclusions we keep in place to have a past? Events unfold in the river of time, but are they real, or do we make them real by reiterating them as the events that shaped our life? If two people were in the same place at the same time, one would latch on to some aspect of that moment, and someone else would ignore that aspect of the event and feature some other aspect of that event as part of their past. Who among us holds the real view of reality?
If you talk to five members of the same family, all raised in the same house, each one will share their view of the past, and no two stories about the past will coincide perfectly; in fact, the range of disagreement is so huge that you realize that ‘the past’ is your rendition of events that comprise the story that runs your point of view about life. This is both amusing and alarming: is anyone ever reporting anything accurately, or is all reporting only one’s personal narrative? If this is true, how does this shape how you listen to anyone objectively? Funnier still, who gets to listen objectively to anyone, ever, even if they think they are doing that? Listening itself takes place within the point of view you hold about people, life and reality, and, as such, what you hear isn’t what I hear. The symphony is happening, but I am fond of the french horn, so that stands out for me, and you like the violins, so that’s what the symphony is for you. Later on, without knowing who heard what, we will comment, “wasn’t the symphony grand tonight.”
This makes you wonder about ‘agreement.’ When we agree or disagree, what is it we are in agreement about, really? My point of view, that comes out of my selective memory about my past, shapes my view of what we appear to be talking about, which may have nothing to do with what shapes the view you hold about the subject in question. We are inclined to call what we are doing “communication,” but who is communicating what, and to whom? The word “communication” defends the fiction that what we are talking about is what we are talking about. Even when we use the same words, we assign specific meanings to the words we use so that we can appear to be on the same page when in fact we aren’t even in the same ball park.
In the work I do, which I refer to as “The Recovery Process,” I have discovered that communication exists, and that it becomes objective when the words we use exist outside the narrative that runs our story about our past. Consciousness includes 1) what the truth is, which is upstream of our personal narrative, and 2) the story we occupy with our past that gives us our personal narrative. As you expand into consciousness, language comes from the truth, revealing that our personal narrative services the story of who we pretend to be. As you move in on who you are, the language we use converges because it comes from the truth, leaving our personal narrative in the dust, as so much blah blah blah! We agree, at some unconscious level, to call this “communication” as part of avoiding truth like the plague.
Notice that when you converge on the truth, the self disappears, time stops and the two converge as one ‘talking.’ The implication is that the concept called “communication” services the lie two exist to talk, but beyond this fiction, silence if often more ‘truth-laden’ than a thousand works. When love is present, words are both distracting and superfluous.