Images vs Reality
Why is it that when most people talk to me, I feel they are speaking to their idea of me, and not the real me? The me that is present right now.
This can be explained by differentiating between images and reality.
We all make assumptions about the world, placing reality into little boxes so that life becomes easier to navigate. Rather than having to understand what a tree is from scratch every time we encounter a different one, the brain encodes a definition of a tree, files it, and applies it to all trees.
This is a wonderful thing. We can navigate life based on an understanding that took great effort as children to discover, test, and apply — and now it feels seamless, even effortless. This is this, that is that, no further questions.
Imagine a fully completed map that we carry into adulthood, built on our earliest conclusions. Not only do we have definitions for trees, but we have intricate conclusions about ourselves, other people, and how all the components of life relate. When we encounter a new situation or a new person, it is far easier — even automatic — to place the experience into a predefined box, making associations based on appearance, attitude, and familiarity, without further question.
Soon enough, we create a mental image for ourselves and for the people around us — assumptions of who they are.
Think of your own mental image of yourself. Like a small character or proxy that sits inside your mind, to whom you attribute your experiences, achievements, and personality. It is constructed like a character in a game, built from the assumptions you and others have made about you. Notice where, spatially, this version of you sits inside your mind. Notice how, when others refer to you, you may in turn refer to that internal image — attributing their compliments or criticisms to that character. Notice how, around others, you may also act from that image of yourself.
Now, while holding this image in mind, become aware of who is present witnessing it. The you that is here right now. The you that has been present through all of your memories. The you that is unchanging.
Notice how this present you does not contain any particular qualities or images. It is made of presence itself — awareness, a sense of consistency.
Who did everything you have ever done in your life? It is not the limited character you refer to in your mind. It is you — the you that is present right now. That is the common denominator in all of your experience.
Life becomes difficult when our images appear to conflict with the reality presenting itself. This is called distortion. The more we insist on our image, the more the world will naturally reveal its incongruence with it.
Imagine meeting an actor for the first time and only referring to them as the character you have watched on screen. This can range from genuinely insisting they are the character, to being unable to unsee the role even while knowing they are an actor, to relating to them simply as a "famous actor" — which is itself another kind of image. On and off the set, there is one thing that remains constant regardless of the character being played: the present awareness they carry. It is the same awareness present within yourself, though it appears from a different perspective.
Associations can keep us grounded in the context of our lives, but they often become the very thing that binds us to a limited perspective. We can open our eyes to a far richer, more alive and dynamic reality when we choose to address what is actually alive in front of us — rather than the fixed images held within our minds.
Try to become aware of, and to speak to, that which is alive in another person. This can become an infinite well of exploration — or it may be met with resistance, if that person insists you refer only to the static image they hold of themselves.
Nature does not ask us to refer to a definition of what it is. It simply is, and it is your choice whether to be in contact with the reality of its aliveness or not.
All of this edges toward the interrelation between that which is static and that which is always in movement — and how these two things relate. The idea of a fixed, illusory conclusion imposed on a changing world may actually be the distortion of a beautiful truth: that which is true is unchanging. It is unconditional. It is present regardless of condition.
The Bhagavad Gita describes the interrelation between the changing and the unchanging — the perishable world of all living forms, and the eternal, unmoving Self beneath them.
"There are two entities in this world — the perishable and the imperishable. The perishable comprises all living beings, and the imperishable is the unchanging." (15.16)
It then points to a third — one that transcends the duality of the two entirely. Not the world of changing things, nor simply the silent witness behind them, but the Supreme that enters, sustains, and contains both.
"But beyond these two is the Supreme Person — the Highest Self — who enters the three worlds and sustains them."(15.17)
If you try to place a fixed condition (i.e the mental image described earlier) on an ever-changing plane of existence, you are bound for misalignment. But if you become that which is always present — the complete source from which all of life springs — you can embody the integration of the changing and the unchanging.
