liminal
ego, the highest self, and the endless space between
“Not every shift in atmosphere is mine to solve. Not every silence is mine to interpret. Not every feeling in the room belongs to me just because I can feel it.”
-My dear friend, Ella Thompson.
The world is mine and yet, I am of the world.
Do you ever feel selfish?
I do.
There are many things I am not afraid to talk about. Traumas I’ve faced, demons I’ve slain, mountains I’ve climbed, bridges I’ve burned. And then there are the quiet things. I promise you’d never guess they’re there if you met me or even if you knew me well.
The quiet shames, that linger so softly; the gentle caress of a lazy breeze in the back of my mind. Even I don’t look when they pass, tempting and sweet. They tingle along my spine both sensual and sinister, and, cowardly, I close my eyes until the sensation abates.
If I dared, I could acknowledge the whisper. Like Eve’s Apple (and no, I’m not religious, just a fan of a good metaphor), I could look my ego in the eye and let it undo me and all that is good about me. I could surrender as it tears me down and births me anew, malevolent and ripe.
She’s a demon of a different variety, Ego. My inner bitch is put to shame by her undeniable callous. My benign heart turns to stone at the mention of her name.
Ego.
I’ve kept her buried deep. May she never see the sun and all its radiant glory. Though, perhaps she’d melt like the wicked witch at its golden touch.
She roils in protest at her entrapment because she knows, and I know, she’s capable of taking over the world. All of the hurt, the defeat, and bitter sacrifice would fall away in her wake. And I would become untouchable.
"Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven."
— Paradise Lost
It’s a seductive power that. To be unfeeling and unflinching. If you read certain ideologies behind growth and the path to one’s highest self, there is an argument that those we praise for selflessness acted selfishly on behalf of Ego.
The Buddha relinquished all to master his self. One of the most spiritual acts in human history, quietly, the most self-centered. For he did not save anyone first or at all. He chose himself over all who needed him. He starved. He sat. And eventually, he rose.
There is a choice to be made in the path to one’s highest self. To radically choose self over other.
This is where Ego sees opportunity.
Ego thrives in the misinterpretation this wisdom.
Ego thrives in the extremes. She’s rife with contradiction. Her honeyed promises cloak her quiet malice.
“Never forget,” she reminds me. “If we fly, we fly alone.”
And we’d soar together towards glory and totality. All I must do first is renounce and detach.
Asceticism to achieve abundance?
Curious logic.
Ego doesn’t argue with wisdom, she plagiarizes it.
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