How Your Inner Dialogue is Shaping Your Outer World
Why do we have a need to frame everything that happens to us and create a narrative around even the mundane events of our lives? You could say biology. Our survival for thousands of years has depended on our ability to evaluate whether something was a threat. It’s not an inherently bad thing and can certainly be useful, but when does it stop being useful? And in what ways is it shaping our lives?
Let’s say a car cuts you off and causes you to slam on your brakes. Suddenly you enter a mental and emotional reaction that may last moments or even hours. The action was only a moment, a catalyst of the process. A whole slew of thoughts ensue, many of which don’t serve any purpose, “Why did they do that? They must be reckless, on their phone, or just stupid. They could’ve caused an accident, what if I had looked down at that moment?” We all do this to some extent, it’s a natural human response. So much so that often we don’t even register that we’re doing it.
When I was growing up my mother had a motto she used every time a driver did something problematic. She said “maybe his mother is sick.” I thought it was a silly thing to say, maybe even a bit naive. (Sorry mother, if you’re reading this, which I know that you are.) After all, you have every right to be angry when something like this happens. But my mother is a wise woman and she knew that what was done was done. Her responsibility was in how she chose to frame it as that would, in fact, have a real effect on her life. Inner dialogue is a massive part of our experience as human beings. It’s one of those intangible things that shapes and directs our actions and our paths. This is a core principle of Buddhism that I find appealing; the notion that we are the observer within us, separate yet connected to the incessant chatter of our minds. And, with practice, we can bring awareness and reduce the suffering brought on by such states. Lately I’ve had a few occasions to see clearly when others are suffering from what Buddhists call the second arrow - the pain we inflict on ourselves mentally after the initial event itself. It’s often more painful than the first arrow. And many times it goes unchecked.
Brene Brown, a leading researcher on emotion states, “Storytelling helps us all impose order on chaos-including emotional chaos. When we’re in pain, we create a narrative to help us make sense of it. The story doesn’t have to be based on any real information.” So back to the original question, how is it shaping our outer lives? We are constantly forming beliefs based on our thoughts. This implies that we BELIEVE our thoughts, which could be a mistake from the start if our thoughts go unquestioned. And beliefs, once formed, are difficult to undo even when they aren’t serving us. The ever present temptation of confirmation bias as well as echo chambers solidify our beliefs. These beliefs underlie our actions, therefore impacting the effect we have on the world around us and our relationships.
Allow me to tie this into death work. The majority of people I speak to about their fear of developing dementia say something to the effect of “I don’t want to be a burden to anyone.” That’s completely understandable and relatable. For most, it’s a declaration accompanied by fear or shame. For some, it is the catalyst to take action such as Medical Aid in Dying, or even suicide, to prevent such a burdening. So I started to ask, what is the belief underneath this statement? My conclusion is that we tend to believe if we aren’t useful to society we have no right to be here. (We could launch into a discussion of how capitalism shapes that belief but I’ll refrain for now.) How dare we need care from others when we cannot reciprocate. But, what about babies? They aren’t “useful members of society” and while they may exasperate their caregivers, no one is questioning their right to exist. We recognize that they are in a state of life in which they need more care. That is all. Imagine, there are societies in which those who are so limited are regarded highly not only in spite of but because of their advanced age. They are honored and cared for lovingly. Weeks before my grandmother died a woman I know said “she still has something else to learn or something else to teach someone.” I still think about this. What else could she possibly be learning in her state? I can’t say. What could I be learning?
When we start to dig into these thoughts we uncover all kinds of unquestioned influences like the way we were raised, conclusions we drew from our past experiences, and even the social structures we live in. Sometimes these beliefs we’ve formed lead to small inconveniences such as wasting our time and energy on judging someone else's intentions and sometimes they could lead to a monument decision such as whether we should continue living. I’ve started to try to develop a habit, or a practice, of asking myself the right question when I find myself in these tumultuous loops of thought that are getting me nowhere. I ask myself what do I actually want to accomplish with my words and actions? What is the story I’m telling myself and is there truth to it? Brene Brown also states “In navigation, dead reckoning is how you calculate your location. It involves knowing where you’ve been and how you got there [...] When you reckon with emotion, you can change your narrative. You have to acknowledge your feelings and get curious about the story behind them. Then you can challenge those confabulations and get to the truth.” This is surely a recipe to change your mind, and therefore your path.