Ego

We are the builders of our lives, not the architects. 
Marianne Williamson

Ego is a term often bandied about in general conversation. There are specific definitions as developed by Freud, Jung, and the original founders of depth psychology as well as common usage which is generally associated with selfishness, self-centredness and self-seeking.

When working with people who have decided to make major changes in their lives in the context of giving up behaviors which, though clearly detrimental to themselves and those they love, they seem to have great difficulty in leaving behind on a permanent basis, the phenomenon of the ego invariably arises.  These people often find themselves baffled by their own destructive behaviors which, unlike many other areas of their lives, seem immune to the direction of their often very substantial willpower.

The following analogy may be useful in creating a better understanding of our internal dynamics. The scene is a family outing, driving along through beautiful countryside to a pre-agreed destination. There is an adult behind the steering wheel, following the clear instructions coming from the onboard navigation system, confident that the desired destination will be reached in good time. Family members include a five-year-old child, who is safely strapped into a car seat in the back. At first, things move along smoothly. Over time, the young child decides, on a whim, that he would prefer to do the driving and tries anything and everything to extricate himself from the car seat in order to get behind the steering wheel. Needless to say, this causes considerable commotion and distraction. It takes substantial effort to restore order, sometimes even requiring interrupting the journey to calm the situation. The dynamic is such that the child will try again and again, despite the admonishment of the adult. The child’s attitude is `If at first you don´t succeed, try and try and try again.

Moreover, the adult, in addition to having to deal with the distraction caused by the incorrigible child, has, at times, the urge to override the instructions coming from the navigation system. He feels sufficiently familiar with the territory to know better how to reach the goal or may simply be attracted to a scene up there to the right or left in the hills. Once he departs from the suggested route, he is driven to continue on his own bat because not doing so would require admitting being wrong. In the meantime, the child not only incessantly attempts to take control of the steering wheel, requiring substantial energy and attention on the part of the adult, but also has some of his own ideas as to how best to get to the destination he wishes to reach (it may not even be the same one) so the journey becomes more and more chaotic for all concerned.

The navigator is unerring in its suggestions. It has a good track record in getting people to the correct destination and is always polite in its interactions. It never loses its temper or becomes resentful if ever ignored and would never think of quitting on the job, regardless of what happens. It cannot drive, however; this task lies within the responsibility of the occupants of the car.

This is often how I trundle along through life. Among the many voices in my head are the infantile ego, the more mature aspect of the ego, and the Higher Self. The infantile ego `wants it all and wants it now, has delusions of both grandeur and omnipotence, and a seemingly infinite source of determination and energy to get what it wants, no matter what. Because it perceives itself as the center of the universe, it takes everything personally and is never open to entertaining feedback, even constructive criticism.

The more mature aspect of the ego, while being capable of self-care, service, and compassion for self and others, still has an inclination, at times, to become complacent and, especially when subjected to stress, to `take back control over his own life, as if such a thing were possible.

The Higher Self knows where we should be going, will always be available and accessible with instructions but will never insist on being listened to or obeyed.

In a talk he once gave on `Therapy and Spirituality´, the German writer and mystic, Willigus Jäger, pointed out that, as a therapist, he was interested in allowing people to experience their suffering so they could learn from it whereas, as a spiritual advisor, he was keen to help people avoid suffering. It was a challenging task, he concluded, which needed to be handled with care on a case by case basis. He made the point that at some point `we need to let go of the ego´ in order to achieve happiness and fulfillment.

He reported that a young psychotherapist came up to him after his talk. She was upset, asking how he could dare makes such statements; the clients who were coming to her had a very different problem. They had a very poor sense of self and couldn’t assert themselves. They needed to build up and consolidate their egos. With a smile in his eyes, he replied; `Yes, indeed, he said, `it takes a strong (i.e. mature) ego to let go of the ego´.

Healing and growth in consciousness invariably requires what is termed `ego deflation´ or `ego reduction´. Freud, who used the term ego in a very specific sense in the trinity of `Id, Super Ego and Ego´ wrote that `the development of the ego (here used in his own sense) consists in a departure from the primary narcism (ego in the popular sense, the infantile aspect of the Freudian ego) and results in a vigorous attempt to defend it´.

It is clear to me that we are dealing here with a development inherent in the human condition. Ideas of `fighting or destroying the ego´ are as misplaced as the idea of kicking your own child out of the car or disqualifying the adult from driving. The only viable solution is to find the appropriate constellation of the internal voices, treating each with loving-kindness. We need to be able to tune into the signal from the Higher Self, with interference minimized and ambient noise reduced. Under such circumstances, we are well placed to arrive at decisions for the greater good.

With some people, this capacity is established in a timely fashion during and soon after adolescence. This is called healthy development. Others, depending on their life experiences, may come up short. We are, however, given fresh opportunities later in life to deal with those things which didn’t work out the first time around. This is called recovery. In recovery, we catch up on the developments which came up short the first time around. For this reason, I prefer the term `shortcomings´ over others such as `defects´ or `weaknesses´. One way or another, life seems to have a way of repeatedly placing growth opportunities in our paths until we grasp the nettle and do the requisite inner work required of us to heal, mature, grow, and move on.

David Richo, in his book `When Love Meets Fear´, presents the concept of `the FACE of the ego´ –  these four letters standing for `Fear, Attachment, Control and Entitlement´. Richo points out that when any of these factors, singularly or in combination, manifest in our thinking or actions, we can be sure that ego is actively involved.

What am I afraid of losing or not getting? What situations or interactions prompt fear on my part? In what way am I trying to gain happiness or salvation through third parties – people, places, or things? What things beyond my control am I trying to control? On reflection, we ascertain that we have little or no control over most things, especially outcomes and other people. Are there any ideas of how I feel the world should be treating me? Are there things I regard as below my dignity? Do I harbor ideas of indignation as in `how dare they treat me like this? Finally, what do I need to be doing on a daily basis to keep the channel of communication to the Higher Self loud and clear?

This `FACE´ of the ego concept is a very valuable pointer for me, prompting me to turn inwards to discover what is really going on before I act on my initial impulses.