At the biological level, pride could be our motivation to learn. Without a sense of self, we cannot survive. After all, don’t we survive by adapting to changes in our environment? That requires learning. And pride is what makes us want to adapt and survive.
Is it possible, then, that pride is part of our physiology, like fear and desire? To survive, we need them as well. Fear keeps us away from danger and desire leads us to what we need. And pride helps us adapt by giving us the motive to learn. If we were to lose our ability to feel fear, we would die. And if we never felt hunger, we would starve. So, if we were to lose our sense of self, we could not learn anything. We wouldn’t be able to connect the dots of our day-to-day, moment-to-moment existence. A sense of self, it turns out, is what initiates life and keeps us alive in these bodies on this planet.
Like a magnetic tape that receives and holds data, our sense of self gathers information and stores it for future use. But, it’s not merely like magnetic tape—it has a purpose. It is both the media and the message. And its purpose is to form a “me.” Without something to stick to, sensory impressions cannot cohere into intelligible patterns. Without the magnetic quality of pride, there would be nothing to which sensory impressions could adhere. Instead of forming memories, they would scatter like reflected light.
It’s important that I mention that the word “pride” is not the same as “prideful,” just as the word “fear” does not mean “fearful”—fear is an instinct. What I’m suggesting is that the ego might be an instinct, too. And just as we wouldn’t want to kill off our fear, lest we be unable to recognize danger, why would we want to kill off the ego and destroy our ability to learn and adapt? Perhaps the ego is as necessary for survival as fear and desire.
But does this mean that the ego is who we are? That wouldn’t make any sense, no more so than identifying with our fear or desire—these bodily mechanisms that keep us alive. What do those survival mechanisms protect? Who or what is the “us” being protected? Whoever or whatever we are, we are something more than a bundle of instincts. The sense of self—the ego—is greater than the sum of its parts. It transcends those parts. It is greater than they are because they all serve it. They keep “it” alive. It is the reason for their being.
Why, then, does the East say we should kill our ego? Surely, they know what they’re talking about. Buddhism is one of the most sophisticated religions in the world. Buddhists and Hindus, one coming from the other, pretty much wrote the book on spirituality—chakras, ayurveda, non-dual consciousness, mindfulness. So, why would they tell us to kill our egos?
Maybe, since they are different cultures with different languages, what they mean by “ego” might not mean what we think it means. To assume that it does would be like asking for a chicken and getting a cow, thinking that it could lay eggs. I mean, psychology is complicated. What does the term “sense of self” mean? Maybe in the East, it means something very different. Maybe they’re talking about a psychological state, not an inherent instinct, not what we think of in Freudian terms as the “ego.”
All of this points to the possible reality that we are more than our body, more than our instincts. And maybe even bigger than the sense of self we’re making a case for. And what, given the need for coherence, transcends the self and yet forms and keeps memories as a separate, distinct person?
Ah, new word. Person. Something greater than a sense of self. Because—who’s doing the sensing?
“Sense of self” implies individuality, separateness, and duality. These are bad, too, aren’t they? Like ego? But what organism doesn’t have a distinct body? Bodies need coherence and a strategy to survive, and that strategy needs to be able to learn and adapt. But…bodies are not what we are. We’re not even our consciousness because consciousness, like a sense of self, serves something higher than itself, ontologically speaking.
So, what is this “Person”? Is it me or is it us? Am I ultimately part of a hive mind, a group soul? Or am I an individual? Do I, like a newborn child, have a name? Or am I just a number?
Does personhood transcend the catalog of memories we so fervently cling to? Without our memories, who would we be? That’s the question on top of the question pile—if not my memories and sense of self, who am I? Who’s asking? Who is “me” and “mine”?”
There is an inner being. Your inner being. It is distinct from all others and it transcends your body, your mind, and your sense of self. It is always there, whether you think about it or not. It hovers over you and behind you, seeing everything you see, feeling everything you feel, and learning everything you know. It’s called you “Soul.” It is more you than you. It is your final refuge, your true identity. It’s you as God knows you. In fact, that’s as much as God knows of you. Farther down the ontological chain, our sense of self starts to slip out of God’s range of vision.
What, God is unlimited? Maybe so, maybe not. Are you unlimited? Aren’t there parts of your psyche that exist beyond your conscious mind? Most of what your psyche is lies outside your awareness. It’s like an iceberg, the bulk of which lies hidden beneath the waves. So, if the law, “As above, so below” means anything, it would mean that just as we cannot consciously know everything that’s going on in the deepest recesses of our being, why should God know the deepest recesses of God’s mind? Maybe we, as individual selves—persons—maybe we are the agency by which God explores God’s own inner world.
You can try it. Close your eyes, turn your attention inward, and look for the place from which you emerge into consciousness. It will resemble something like a black sun with a golden corona. It might not look like anything at all but is nonetheless a portal of streaming spiritual energy—pure, virgin awareness streaming into the world of the senses. Who knows where its true origin lies. Out of what do we emerge? And who or what is doing the emerging? Following that line of inquiry leads to the Self and, from there, to God.