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A Modest Proposal Uncommon thinking
about common experiences January 11, 2004 Why am I the way I am? – A three part series Part 1 – How Emotional Wounding Happens OK, this is not a “happy” topic to begin a new year; however, it is one which is applicable to anyone old enough to read this newsletter. The end of a year is often a time of reflection about peace and humanity although probably not enough thought or action is devoted to either. I think that the more we dwell on peace and humanity the better off we are individually and as a species, and most of us (including me) probably don’t spend enough time and effort doing so. Why? As I usually do as of late I speak for myself, and if what I write generalizes to you or someone you know, then may you discern something of value from it; otherwise, I honor you for your enlightenment. Why don’t I practice peace and humanity more than I do? It is because I am emotionally wounded, and my wounds block me from being more present to peace and humanity. How did I get wounded in the first place? It occurred a long time ago in terms of this life’s tenure; in fact, it began when I was a young child. Something happened that caused me to conclude that the love I received from others was conditional. It had to be earned; I could not depend on receiving love as a matter of the due course of life. I learned that I did not “deserve” love until certain conditions were met. Older, significant people in my life, consciously or unconsciously, used two methods either individually or together, to “structure” the conditions, the fulfillment of which, were necessary for me to be “awarded” love. The first (because it was used before I had the ability to understand language) was physical. Physical “conditioning” (no, not exercise) is easy to use on a small child for he is weak and essentially helpless. If I didn’t do what was required of me, I was spanked, restrained, slapped, isolated, and otherwise shown that to receive “love” I needed to adapt whatever behavior was required of me. I do not intend to portray the people in my life at that time as cruel or abusive. They were not. Probably in most respects I was not physically conditioned more than was typical growing up in the USA at the time that I did. I was probably very much loved by my parents as well. The second method was verbal conditioning. Once I began to verbalize and understand speech, verbal conditioning was easier and less strenuous. Now, when I did not do what was expected of me, I was yelled at, berated, degraded, shamed, and generally made to feel unworthy until I adapted whatever behavior was required of me. Once again, I do not think the treatment I received was atypical or excessive for the times. Often, both methods were employed simultaneously to doubly reinforce the desirability of certain behaviors. This may sound a little too clinical, but the language makes it easier to understand how emotional wounding occurs from the subtle to the absurd. The clinical nature of conditional love is rooted in a body of knowledge called learning theory. Learning theory is a set of “rules” that predict how we learn. Those doing the “teaching” do not have to know learning theory in order to use it; the theory was derived from observation so it is descriptive in nature, not instructive. Here are two basic principles of learning theory that are relevant to emotional wounding (which I will get back to shortly): 1. The primary “unit” of learning theory is the stimulus-response reflex (also called a “conditioned response” – hmm?). Here is how it works. You are an adult and I am a child. I enjoy making an odd slurping noise. You find my slurping irritating so you tell me to quit, but I don’t and continue to slurp because I like it – it is fun. There is no stimulus-response reflex – yet. You tell me to quit a few more times, but I don’t. Your irritation grows and finally you tell me that I sound like an idiot and that I am stupid. Now you may have my attention – I don’t want to be thought of as an idiot (whatever that may be – I am not sure, but it couldn’t be good from your tone of voice) yet, slurping is sure fun; OK, I will chance being thought of as an idiot and make one more slurp. Out of a cloudless sky comes a thunderbolt in the form of the palm of your hand, and I get slapped up the side of my head. It hurts. Now a response has occurred that gets my attention. My slurp (stimulus) elicited a slap (response). If the response was powerful enough (pain in this case), the reflex is established. If the response was not powerful enough but painful, a few more occurrences (“trials,” social scientists call them), and the response is eventually established. Here is the key: to set up the reflex, the response must be more powerful than the benefit of the stimulus. Slurping is now not worth the pain of a slap plus being judged as an idiot. Slurping stops and “love” results albeit very conditionally. Conditional love is better than no love at all especially if it means that I will not be hurt, physically and/or emotionally. The only problem is that I didn’t understand why slurping brings pain; it just does. Congratulations, I just experienced an emotional wound. It may not seem like a big deal, but let’s look at the principle of generalization. 2. I did not simply learn that slurping brings pain. I “generalized” that not adapting to demands made by someone bigger and stronger than me will result in a loss of acceptance and/or the experience of pain. The small “slurping” wound now becomes gaping and can stay unhealed for the rest of my life. Although the conditioning was a combination of physical and verbal, the wound itself was emotional and became submerged in my psyche, out of sight, and after a while, not even conscious to me. The resulting stimulus-response reflex is alive and well but below the threshold of realization. The reflex has taken over. I do not even have to think about it. The reflex is automatic. I have not learned to be a “good” boy; I have learned to not be a “bad” boy; there is huge difference. Think about it. Thanks for sticking with me through this weighty topic. It is not important to remember the detail. What is important to me is that emotional wounding happens to everyone no matter how loving and benevolent were our parents and significant others in our lives. Some of us are more deeply wounded than others, but we are all wounded, and we carry these wounds through childhood and adolescence into adulthood. The wounds form the basis for judgment, ego, fear, and all of the heavy emotions that we experience. Much of my waking time was spent using strategies and tactics that I learned in order to earn love as a result of emotional wounding. Lest you are somewhat put off with the word “love” as applied to people with whom you are not close such as managers, co-workers, and casual friends, simply substitute “acceptance” for love. Acceptance is really the same thing. As I grew older, these strategies and tactics became more sophisticated and complex, yet way in the background, out of sight, is the kid who slurped. My strategies and tactics help me to stay “safe” from being rejected and thus unloved or unaccepted. Make no mistake in thinking that emotional wounding does not occur and that it is not the greatest block to spiritual evolution and living life harmoniously, for it truly is. Another view of emotional wounding is described in Chapter 8 – Primal Abandonment in my book A Tao Of God. The chapter is included at this end of this Modest Proposal should you wish another description. It was important for me to understand how my wounds were created (the stimulus-response reflex and generalization) so that I could eventually learn to heal them – and that is the subject of next month’s Modest Proposal: Part 2 – How to Heal Emotional Wounds. My proposal to you is this: think about how you were emotionally wounded and how those wounds, healed or not, affect your life today. Why are you the way you are? May you discern with compassion… Ron
McCray ----------------------------------------------------------------------- (From A Tao Of God – www.TaoOfGod.com) Primal abandonment occurred when I discovered that the divine love with which I was born had a contrast: “not love.” With that realization, the veil dropped, and my connection with God was seemingly severed. I know now when it happened, although I did not know at the time – I was six years into this life. No matter how benign or loving were the adults in my early years, primal abandonment had to occur, for it was necessary to drop the veil so that I “forget” who I am. God became an omnipotent abstract, unknowable and unreachable, for a small child sitting in a large pew of a church, while all the time, I was God. What a great cosmic farce! As a result of primal abandonment, I learned that “not love” exists. What I made of this was that love is not my birthright; it is conditional and must be earned. That’s when I came to know danger and fear, two powerful emotions that would shape my life for decades. Even now, after having learned the mysteries revealed here in A Tao of God they still shadow me wherever I go. This is the fall from grace in the Garden of Eden. This is the cross that Christ bore upon Golgotha. This is all the fables and allegories of how man was cast out by God. I know now that neither I nor anyone else was cast out. We are of God, and by agreement, we all play in this game of remembering who We are. Primal abandonment is necessary to the game, the experiment. Can I remember my divinity? Do I have one life or many to accomplish reconnection? Nothing is predetermined, and the outcome for me is immaterial, for it is how I play the game while in this energetic form that counts. I think it helps to remember that my life is a game. That I do not always see life as a game is, at its core, funny. The humor comes from my “seriousness” about being a human, running around in my skin suit, overly concerned with the trappings of being human, which I regard as “significant,” when in fact they have no more significance to my spiritual self than a movie or television show. Someone once described life to me as a great improvisational play in which I have my story line, as do many others with whom I will interact in the acts and scenes of our lives. We stay true to our characters, yet, because of free will and choice, we improvise our way through life. Comedy and drama are all the same at the curtain call. Remember to laugh. My experience… When I was six, I “played” at being my father (who was a mechanic) and got filthy dirty in a grease pit. To my young mind, I was only doing what my father did every day, and surely my mother and he would be very proud of me. That was not the case, as my mother became enraged when she saw me and later my father beat me for what I had done. The principle of “not love” became abundantly and painfully clear. I then resolved to learn the rules and play by them to avoid punishment and hopefully “earn” love. This was primal abandonment. Its “lessons” shaped my life for decades. My primal abandonment is a blessing, for it is my ticket of admittance to this theatrical performance, which is this grand game of life on Earth. ∞
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