I just posted a comment at the Occupational Adventure (sm) Blog regarding the thought-provoking entry on "Inner Critic, Monkey Mind, Artist and Judge" that I thought I'd share here and expand on.
The "Inner Critic"/monkey mind is different from Von Oech's Judge. The use of the word "Judge" is a little overloaded in meaning.The "monkey mind", if you observe it, is pretty incessant. This chatter voice is attacking in nature and essentially hijacks your mind. Some wisdom traditions also call it the Ego (not exactly psychology's ego). (Ken Wilbur's "No Boundary" describes Ego well.)
"The voice in your head is like a wild horse taking you wherever it wants to go. Once you tame the horse, you can ride the horse, and knowledge becomes a tool for communication that takes you where you want to go." - Miguel Ruiz, "The Voice of Knowledge"Von Oech's Judge is different in nature and comes from another voice -- which is capable of discernment, refinement, extension or letting go of an idea -- but doesn't have that edge of hatred towards yourself or anyone, but rather comes from an reservoir of inner peace.
How you tame this 'wild horse' is definitely beyond the scope of this comment! But I do have resources and practices I could recommend and share.
BTW, I have spent some time with Miguel Ruiz in person (a 3 1/2 day trip in Teotihuacan, Mexico) and he is a rare individual who walks his talk. (Many write about these topics without direct experience.) He exudes inner peace, contentment and unconditional love.
This snippet from this article entitled The Paradox of Happiness in the Shambala Sun is as succinct and precise a description on what the Ego is (this inner critic, monkey mind, Ruiz's Voice of Knowledge) as I've ever seen.
Here it's referred to as "Little Me". (BTW, I didn't really click with the rest of the article but this section was right on target.)
Nothing Is Too Good For Little Me
When the mind and heart are at rest, they are not important or unimportant, secure or insecure, and this natural state is happiness. Security, on the other hand, is the cause of unhappiness. It is in the service of a character called "Me," as in "What about Me?" who is always worried what will happen to her. There is "Poor Little Me" and "Nothing Is Too Good For Little Me," and both are based on the longing for security.
When I was three or four I had an imaginary playmate who was the foreman on an imaginary construction site. His name was Bill and I'd ring him up on an imaginary phone next to the black wall phone in the front hall. I used to give him orders. I'd say, "Bring the bulldozer." We would also have conversations at lunchtime. "Another bloody jam sandwich," I would complain to him enthusiastically, flinging it over my shoulder. Having a self is a bit like keeping Bill with you for the rest of your life, and setting your life up to assure him that he is real.
"Little Me" is a hypothesis to explain where thoughts come from. Yet no one knows where thoughts come from. Sometimes they don't even seem to belong to anyone. The next line of the poem just arrives, the way the next moment of the world does. This is good news for you because it leaves the door open for the unicorn, who also appears out of nowhere, but bad news for Little Me, who likes you to think that she is the source of your thoughts and therefore essential.
So many of your thoughts are for the sake of preserving Little Me. When you were a child she entered your employ as a governess who promised to be a help. As you grew she became your faithful retainer, general secretary and assistant. Yet her main purpose seems to be to make herself feel secure. She exists to make sure that she continues to exist. An idea is trying to maintain itself, a phantom who asks that you serve her. Yet security for Little Me is not security for you. She is so fascinating to herself that she is uninterested in other people, including you. You have to run around and Get the Loot to assuage this phantom's anxiety. You have to build pyramids because she is frightened of dying. The Sufis have a story about a donkey who persuades his rider to carry him. Little Me is like that donkey. She did seem to be a help at first, but pretty soon she started impersonating you and writing checks.
Little Me fields all your calls. Meanwhile she gives you the sort of plausible and utterly useless advice that Polonius offered Hamlet. The advice is useless because it is not about you, it's just designed to hold your attention on her.
There is nothing truly wrong with Little Me other than that she, or he, doesn't exist. The secret to happiness is that Little Me is not necessary. When you discover this you may find it a great relief.
This is why happiness is simpler than suffering, which is always working so hard. The unicorn of happiness is allergic to advice and Little Me's complicated schemes are not interesting to her. She is a free wanderer with no fixed destination or shape; her hooves are in the Tao.
Comments