First, Know Thyself
Ancient Greece was a fascinating mix of mythology and philosophy. You could almost witness the rationalist approach of those early great thinkers starting to break down the mysticism that had previously surrounded many aspects of daily life. As such, looking back, you can see examples of the contrasting minds of thinking coming into contact and conflict with each other. But it also produced some quite beautiful harmonies. Prophecies were one such example of the residual superstitions of earlier times - an idea that is still not completely absent from our current world. The Oracle at Delphi, located at the temple of Apollo, was one of the most famous of these. People would travel far to ask questions, often receiving a very cryptic reply. Indeed, like many of the astrological prophecies you can find, there was so much flexibility of the interpretation that you were able to retrofit it into most subsequent outcomes.
But there is one feature of the process that always stood out to me. Inscribed on one of the pillars of the temple there was the simple maxim “Know thyself”. Travellers would have potentially travelled for huge distances, enduring the many challenges of the road in those times, hoping to gain some valuable insight from the Gods. And yet, following the travails, they would be met with this. A reminder that, actually, if you don’t even know yourself, asking for advice is pointless. If you don’t know your starting point, asking for directions is not of much help. You are still lost.
This is such a profound insight into humans that I wanted to really explore it. Our psychological tendencies seem to be primarily outward looking. That is, we are focused on the external, especially the material, and how it impacts us. We want to understand the world, and believe that this will make the difference in how we interact with it. But this is clearly only half the story, perhaps the lesser half. Our interactions with the world are viewed entirely through the lens of our mind - our perceptions, emotions, cognitions, and so on. Yes, there is an objective world (almost certainly) but it seems unlikely that we can truly interact with it in a purely objective manner. As such, it is the nature of our lens that becomes a critical feature in how the world appears.
This has resonated deeply with me as a core feature of the ways that we need to approach our lives. We first need to understand how we are interacting with the world; how we are going to influence the appearance. This is principally because we often don’t even recognise it as an issue. Instead of recognising that we are subjective and biassed, we feel objective and clear sighted. We feel like witnesses of the word rather than simultaneously components of it; components which are distorted by the various ebbs and flows as much as anything else within it. This is a huge blind spot. But it is simultaneously the closest thing to us - it is us. This creates a duality of it being the most important barrier, and also the most accessible to our intervention (at least in theory, maybe not entirely in practice). The call to “know thyself” is therefore the first step on a long journey, and yet a step that we don’t even see needs to be taken.
Beyond these reflections, which I will no doubt revisit in time, I wanted to use this post to start to reflect on two specific interventions that we could consider. I find these topics absolutely fascinating, but I want them to remain applicable and practical as well. Indeed, I think they are potentially some of the most influential aspects of our lives and so, if approached correctly, have the capacity to be profoundly impactful. As such, there would seem to be two simple first steps that offer an excellent opportunity to begin this lifelong journey. Skills which can start very simple, and yet build up to some profound outcomes. These are meditation and journaling. In this article I will focus on the former, returning to look at journaling later.
Looking in
Meditation is a term that has many different perceptions. As with the opening scene, there is often felt to be a blend of the mystical with the rational. It is a technique that is simultaneously popular with very serious thinkers and those with a much more ‘non-scientific’ world view. This has meant it has also accrued some features that are aesthetic rather than relevant - features that are more part of ceremony than anything central (although, this is not necessarily entirely a bad thing). However, my focus here on suggesting this as a worthwhile activity is purely within the realms of the empirical, drawing on psychological and neuroscientific underpinnings rather than anything purely spiritual.
To elaborate, I will first describe what I mean by the term meditation. I simply mean a dedicated practice of stopping to look at your own mind. That is all. There are a wide range of technical variations that can support some related insights, but the goal is broadly the same. That is, an experiential encounter with your inside life in its most direct form. To describe it in this way may at first seem odd. A counterpoint some may make is that this is how we always live. It feels that we are very busy thinking and being, all day every day. But this is an illusion. It is simply the faintest outline of a much richer and more complex picture. And it is this superficiality which, in part, explains why we remain repeatedly surprised by ourselves and others. We imagine a logical, coherent, controlled entity, orchestrating each action with precision. Missteps must therefore be attributed to moral or personal shortcomings. They must be intentional and therefore we should apply accountability. But even the briefest glimpse inside paints a very different picture.
Meditation grants this look inside, simply by stopping to look. And it is a testament to how infrequently we do this by how impactful this can be. For instance, a common approach is a ‘focused meditation’ technique where you do your best to focus on one single thing, usually the breath. It is a simple task: mentally watch your breath as you breathe in and out. And yet, after 20 seconds you are already thinking about what you’ll have for dinner, or the jobs that need doing, or your itchy left ear. And then you will catch yourself lost in thought. You will go back to watching your breath for another 20 seconds before the cycle repeats. “How hard is it to follow your breath?” You may exclaim. And as you try a few more times you realise that it is indeed very hard. You get a direct experience of how ‘out of control’ your mind is. It is no placid cow, happily led from one task to the next, but a herd of cats, roaming all over the place. There are some efforts at control, but many parts are just doing their own thing and don't massively care what ‘you’ would like to do.
I think this is even more apparent if you try a form of ‘mindfulness’ meditation. This is simply sitting and trying to fully absorb your current experience. Instead of purely focusing on your breath you are looking to capture the entire conscious experience. This may be limited to just the internal world or all the external senses too. Either way, it is a shock as to how busy it is. You will notice the constant chatter of thoughts, the flickering of attention, and the overarching limited grip that you have. Indeed, the very notion of a ‘you’ starts to come a little bit unstuck. You observe that this unifying feel of a single mind actually has numerous facets. Thoughts bubble up from nowhere, unrequested and occasionally unwanted. Emotions too. And as already noted, our executive function seems much less powerful than we had presumed - we can barely get ourselves to focus intently for 20 seconds!
The sensory component is similarly eye-opening (especially when meditating with eyes closed). We live in an environment of sensory overload and have become used to the degree to which we filter it out. We attend to the tiniest fraction of information which is presented to us. As we start to lift these filters, albeit transiently and incompletely, we get glimpses of the richness of the world that we barely notice. For instance, our tactile surface area is massive - our entire skin, and we may also wish to include some internal sensory information. But how often do we attend to the different temperatures that our skin is exposed to, or the feel of our clothes, or the pressure of our dependent areas. You could spend hours just exploring this single sense, never mind all the others.
The point of all of this description is to try and create a clear understanding of the initial purpose of meditation. This is that our minds are not what we think they are. That we spend the majority of our waking life under a profound illusionary state. And the only real way that we can start making effective forward progress is to recognise this. The benefits of meditation go far beyond this, as I will no doubt revisit here. But many of these are more associated with a regular practice. However, this initial insight does not require much at all. It is a look behind the curtain which powerfully dispels the misconceptions we were holding onto. We see the Wizard of Oz, pulling the levers, and the spell is broken. I can recommend taking a look.