The universe is made of stories, not of atoms. –Muriel Rukeyser
There is a world of atoms (the physical world or so-called objective reality). But that’s not the world we inhabit. It isn’t even possible for us to inhabit that world—at least not directly.
Even if all our senses are intact and our brain is functioning normally, we do not have direct access to the physical world. It may feel as if we have direct access, but this is an illusion created by our brain. –Chris Frith, Professor in Neuropsychology, University College London
And…
Asleep vision (dreaming) is perception that is not tied down to anything in the real world; waking perception is something like dreaming with a little more commitment to what’s in front of you. –David Eagleman, Incognito
The world we actually inhabit is made up of the stories we construct about the objects, events, and people in the physical world. Our stories are based on our impressions and perceptions of what’s out there. The problem is that we treat our impressions and perceptions—and the stories based on them—as if they are real and true.
The world of atoms constantly impacts us. And as it does, we are constantly interpreting, explaining, and assigning meaning to what happens. From moment-to-moment, we’re not aware of how much we don’t know, how much we’re missing, and how much high-speed processing our unconscious brain is doing to generate our impressions and perceptions.
We’re not robots or androids, nor would most of us choose to be. In Star Trek: The Next Generation, Lieutenant Commander Data was an android who inhabited the physical world and not the world of stories. He was superior to humans in a number of different ways. He didn’t make the kinds of mistakes people often make. Yet after spending time with humans, he opted to have an “emotion chip” installed so he could be more like us. He got a pet, an orange cat named Spot (who had no spots). There’s no logical reason to have a cat when you live on board a spaceship. Data’s cat signaled his entrance into the very human world of stories.
All of us, both individually and collectively, are driven to create and tell stories about our experience and then to believe that our stories represent reality. It’s how we make sense of life. The consequences can be amazing, amusing, or devastating. But whether our stories are good or bad, as long as we don’t recognize them for what they are, we’re imprisoned by them.
Most of us, at one time or another (or maybe even incessantly), want to know why we are the way we are. Why do we do the things we do, think the way we think, and feel the things we feel. But wanting to know doesn’t mean we can know. And trying to come up with answers is a seductive but futile pursuit.
The unconscious brain, which drives this deep desire to know, is a pattern-detector and connection-maker. Sometimes the patterns it sees and the connections it makes are useful, such as in scientific or creative pursuits (or even in helping us remember where we put something). But the unconscious brain just as often sees patterns and makes connections where none exist. It’s notorious for jumping to conclusions.
The conscious part of the brain gets to accept or reject the connection offered up by the unconscious. If the conscious part of the brain (what we think of as “I”) accepts it, our brain turns that potential connection into a real one and sort of cements it into place. Now we have an explanation. Now we know that this caused that: some event, situation, or experience that happened in the past is the reason why we do, think, or feel some particular thing today.
Chances are considerably better than average that we’re wrong. There are far too many factors that have gone into making us who we are, the majority of which we aren’t even aware of. But even if we somehow did manage to figure it out correctly, so what?
There’s not much power in reasons or explanations. In fact the more reasons we come up with to explain why we are the way we are today, the less power we have. The more we insist on being nothing more than the effect of hundreds of thousands of causes, the less freedom we have to be, do, think, or feel anything different.
It’s as if we’re trying to replace our actual fluid and dynamic selves with stone replicas of ourselves. Instead of being here now, fully present, we’re busy trying to explain how we got here. Instead of trying to live, we’re trying to not-live. All of us will be cold and hard as stone soon enough. Let’s not hasten the embalming process while we’re still breathing.
Believing that reasons are responsible for what we feel, think, and do is a habit of thought that has many characteristics of an addiction. We have to have reasons. We can’t imagine living without them. Coming up with a good reason for something is one of the most satisfying experiences we can have.
Even when we recognize–conceptually–that reasons don’t actually exist and that the reason habit is self-destructive and delusional, we still can’t just quit reasons cold turkey.
So here’s a 4-step program that may help.
Step 1
Admit that you can’t do (or not do) anything without having a reason for it.
I did (or didn’t do) Y becauseof X.
You can’t think, feel, or do anything other than what you think, feel, or do because reasons cause you to think and feel certain things—and do (or not do) the things you do. You are at the effect, and at the mercy, of all the causes surrounding you. You are powerless. A pawn in the Game of Life. (Too melodramatic? Not really.)
Step 2
Question the assumption that reasons have both an independent existence and a direct cause-and-effect relationship with what you think, feel, and do.
X happened, and so I decided to do (or not do) Y.
Take a deep breath. Insert yourself into the equation. When you take some responsibility, you also regain some of your autonomy and power. Notice your reaction.
Step 3
Recognize that no direct cause-and-effect relationship necessarily exists between what happens (or what happened–especially in the far distant past) and what you think, feel, or do.
X happened and I did (or didn’t do) Y.
When you stop habitually turning situations, events, conditions, encounters, and incidents into reasons, you reclaim even more of your power. Notice that far more possibilities exist than you may have previously recognized.
Step 4
Free yourself from the habit of creating reasons to justify and explain every little thing. Just do it. Or don’t do it.
I did (or didn’t do) Y.
Discover and exercise your amazing ability to simply act. Experience the freedom of being a cause rather than an effect.
The universe is made of stories, not of atoms. –Muriel Rukeyser
