The Suffering That Ends All Suffering
The ego is made up of designations. There’s a Sanskrit word upadhi which means – designations. Identities within the overarching identity. In our search for self-worth, we attach ourselves to all these upadhis or designations. We have innumerable mini-identities.
I’m a good father, a great athlete, I’m someone who keeps in shape, I’m a calm person, a reliable friend, I’m handsome, I’m sexy, I’m sharp as a knife, I’m a team player, I’m this, I’m that. We grasp after whatever we can to stay afloat, so we have something to hold onto, something that makes us feel like we’re somebody.
The problem is we are not our upadhis. We never are. Just as we’re not our egos, we can never be the role we play or the specific projection of who we think we should be.
The self craves to be released from those coverings which suffocate it. It’s almost as if we’re trying to suffocate the self so we never have to deal with its painful cries again. That’s the extent to which we run after and stick to our upadhis.
Interestingly, I became a monk to try to liberate my suffering soul from all these upadhis. I gave up being a writer, a filmmaker, a creative visionary, a doer, a dynamic force, a leader, a romantic, a hopeful attractor of the opposite sex.
It was so hard… I really felt my ego pining to make me stop. Give me some sustenance, it seemed to yell at me from within. Almost sympathetically.
Perhaps the worst thing was starving myself from being a writer. I purposely neglected my foremost identity and sense of dharma in the world. I did this not to be masochistic, and not for forever, but to allow myself a chance to try to be free of all upadhis.
It was a training ground – to let go, and know I could survive. I knew I’d reclaim these roles when I’d matured to the point of not needing them for my sense of identity. I would take up being a writer again – without the upadhi of being a writer… Those are very distinct, and we fail to recognize the difference.
The challenge is that even when we miraculously do recognize the difference, the ego is so desperate, and so tricky, that it subtly presents us with the designations under the radar of our conscious mind. And so, unconsciously, the designation gets stickier and stickier.
I passed my own test as a monk. I waited for years before being a writer again. And I survived. That was formative for me and very powerful.
But what I wasn’t as aware of is that the ego still needs something to grasp. So I was a monk. That was my upadhi!
The ego will chase us to the ends of the earth. And some upadhis are more innocent than others. Some upadhis can bring us closer to who we are. But the moment we think it’s us, we’re in trouble. Then what happens when it falls away?
I’m no longer a monk… That was an identity crisis!
I’m not always a good emailer… Identity crisis!
I’m not always a good garbage-man for the home… Identity crisis!
I’m not always a good this or that… Identity crisis!
The only identity that actually works is the identity of the self. For there is never a time when I am not my self. Throughout eternity, and even after death, this simply cannot change. It is the only thing about me that is unchanging. Nothing else…
Just this past week, I found myself unable to sleep one night. I’d gotten an email that made me question the upadhi that stuck closest to me since I was five years old and first put crayon to poster paper to scribble ghost stories… I felt my capability as a writer was in question. Identity crisis!
It was excruciating. It stayed with me all week, writhing within me. The ego screaming in the form of self-doubt and malaise.
I got another message that made me think one of my clients wasn’t enthused by our work together. Suddenly, I’m not a good coach. I relived that pain again and again, uncontrollably. I’m pouring my heart and soul into this and it’s not making the impact? How can it be? I guess I’m not a good coach. Identity crisis…
But then I realized something that brought me back in time. Into the history of my spiritual journey. Something within whispered to me:
Remember the upadhis you were trying to avoid as a monk, dear Hari Prasada? They may have crept back in surreptitiously…
A revelation! I understood that I must be even more on my toes to see what is so painful to see, but what is even more painful to not see.
These upadhis are suffocating the soul. My ego clings to them, but at the cost of the soul’s very life. That cannot continue.
And yet, if it were so easy to just give up all designations the moment I willed it, I’d have become self-realized 14 years ago! So what to do?!
The only thing we can do is be aware of them, and then not feed them. Just like the ego itself – for all the mini-identities our egos continuously grasp at, we must treat them the same way. Be aware of them. Look within. Be fearless as you can be. And don’t feed them…
Then the self gets a little oxygen. The ego still screams its needy anthems at us. But the soul can move a little freer inside. In course of time, when the ego has no more food to sustain itself, and the soul is nourished by spiritual practice, the soul becomes strong enough to break free. To outlive the ego. Then we become truly alive. And our only identity is the self. A pure, free, humble, happy, loving servant of all living beings, always.
Now, my new anthem to quiet the ego’s noisy one: You’re right, I’m not a writer. I’m not a coach. I’m a servant. What a relief!