Boundaries, Authenticity, and the Map That Isn't the Territory
Límites, autenticidad y el mapa que no es el territorio
A student describes an experience of deep connection during a relational exercise and asks about the nature of the "I" and "not-I," leading to a wide-ranging conversation about boundaries as transitional objects, authenticity in relationship, and how to move from conceptual understanding to lived realization.
Boundaries, Authenticity, and the Map That Isn't the Territory
A student describes an experience of deep connection during a relational exercise and asks about the nature of the "I" and "not-I," leading to a wide-ranging conversation about boundaries as transitional objects, authenticity in relationship, and how to move from conceptual understanding to lived realization.
I was curious about something you started to talk about: "I, not-I." You began to go there and then pulled back, saying it was going too far and that we should stick with dismantling resistance. I recently did an authentic relating style workshop about boundaries, about trying to feel into your own presence, your own body, your own desires and boundaries as you relate to someone else, while also sensing not only the other person but the sort of third entity that's created when you're in connection with someone, and balancing your awareness of yourself with your awareness of what's happening between you.
I had this experience of all the anxieties that can come with social interaction manifesting a little bit and then dwindling as we stayed present. The more I did the exercise, switching partners each time, the easier it was for me to tap into a sense of connection and presence, not only with myself but also with the other person. I realized I had access to a deeper common state that felt more real than any of the imaginings you typically have during a social interaction.
What was interesting was that in cultivating deeper connection with another person, I felt like I was actually cultivating deeper connection with myself. And on some level, it felt like a unified field, like there wasn't much separation. I was reminded of that when you were talking about "I, not-I," or the "we." I can't remember exactly how you put it.
Boundaries as transitional objects
First of all, I see boundaries as a tool, almost like a transitional object. Think of the teddy bear you might have had as a child. I had a brown teddy bear, and I loved it, and then I totally outgrew it, but I still didn't want it thrown out. It's very well known in psychology that there's a positive use of this transitional object: you project into it a kind of affection and comfort that a parent, especially a mother, would bring. When the mother is gone, the teddy bear replaces her affection and her sense of touch. It helps you transition away from needing your mother present. It helps you maintain a sense of okayness when she's not there, until you don't need the object anymore. Then you can let go of the teddy bear. That's what makes it transitional.
With boundaries, something similar happens. We've lost something. We need a tool, a way of doing something that helps us transition into a way of being. The concept and the work of boundaries helps us get there. But once boundaries are established, I recommend letting them go.
The betrayal of authenticity
What I'm really talking about will sound simple, but it's honesty and authenticity. When we have an attachment to a parent, we become desperate without that connection, so we make sacrifices to get affection, to get comfort. We make sacrifices to our authenticity and to our own needs. We negotiate internally and say, "I'm willing to ignore this part of me because it's more important to get my parent's attention." There's a kind of inner betrayal, a loss of truthfulness about our wants and desires. We forget what they are because we train ourselves to forget, so we can pretend something that we know is a strategy to get our parent's attention. For example: "No, I'm fine, Mommy. What do you need?" When actually I'm hurting, but I'm putting on a kind of openness and maturity because she needs attention, and by giving her attention I get hers. I'm betraying my true wants and desires.
This pattern gets transferred onto relationships. It becomes especially activated with a romantic partner. All of these patterns come up, and we have this strange belief that if I do something I don't want but it's what the other person wants, there's some good in that, at least it's good for them, and therefore I'm being good.
I'm not talking about the case where she wants to go for a walk and I'm not quite in the mood but I can still go and enjoy it. I'm talking about when it really crosses something, which is what boundaries address: something that's genuinely a "no." When we do things we don't want at that level, it actually hurts the other person, even though they might think they want it.
From boundaries to honest relating
So boundaries become a transitional object: in a relationship, we agree that boundaries are a good thing. Now I can say, "I'm just setting my boundaries," and it's almost like a socially agreed-upon way to tell you I don't want something without it being perceived as meanness. It becomes a transitional tool for us to co-agree to be more honest, authentic, and sincere. We give each other permission. But once we are authentic, sincere, and honest, and the other person respects that because we've worked on it together, and they deal with their sadness or pain of being offended or whatever arises, then we're just being honest. Boundaries go out the window. There's no need for the concept anymore. I'm simply saying, "No, I don't want this. Yes, I want that. I'd rather this." It becomes the dance of authentic, true, honest relating.
What I'm describing here is the process of going toward yourself, toward authenticity, toward what you want, toward individual development. But by doing that in relationship, we create a deeper bond, a deeper understanding, and we get closer to the reality of the absence of a true separation.
That third entity you're talking about starts to become palpable. It's almost as tactile as your breath. You can have experiences where there's such an intimacy that you can touch it. One of my teachers wrote a book called The I That Is We, and he now only works on this, the "third." It points to this aspect: the more you go toward authenticity, honesty, and truth in yourself and with others, the more you simultaneously realize the nature of you and another as the same.
What you truly want
The trick is to be more and more honest, clear, and direct with yourself. The more you are, the more what you do is best for everyone around you. When I say "what you truly want," one way to conceive of the question is: what does the universe, as you, want? Not the universe and you separate from it, but you the universe, expressed as this particular person. The concept of "I" is no longer limited to your body-mind, because your body-mind has desires and wants. I'm talking about the desires and wants that you, the universe, want as this person. It's a whole other level of deep desiring. Those are the desires and wants that are true. And if you live from there, it carries a wisdom that is aligned with a much vaster and broader aspect of reality.
For example, I can get into religious metaphors because I think they're beautiful. I know some people might be skeptical, and that's fine. But consider: Jesus decided to accept the crucifixion. It's very well known in the scriptures (true or not, think of it as a story if you need to) that saying yes to being crucified, carrying the cross to the top of the hill, and letting himself be crucified was a choice. I'm sure he had the power to avoid it. He said yes to that. Consider the impact that decision has had across millennia and humanity. I would argue that was a universal desire that he obeyed, that he felt, that he listened to, followed, and was completely authentic about.
I get what you're saying, and I've had experiences of that. I can't say I've been compelled to accept crucifixion, but I have had experiences of feeling the universe and answering that call, acting in accordance with it. And maybe this is the resistance piece: it hasn't lasted. I haven't been able to fully surrender. I've experienced enough to note it, to know what it is, to recognize it when it's there. And there's still something in me that resists. I think, to your point about the transitional object, my guess is that it has to do with a fear of loss. But it's still present.
Resistance as believing what you're not
You can consider resistance to simply be the choice to keep believing you're something you're not. The invitation to accept and stop resisting has to do with just changing your mind. And that only happens when there's no other way, because believing in something you're not is causing so much trouble that you get tired of it, and all your energy to keep holding on gets exhausted. That's when surrendering happens: you just don't have more energy to fight and keep believing something you're not.
That's almost a concerning idea, because I have enough privilege in my life that I can see myself feeling comfortable with delusion for a good long while before it becomes a dire situation. But maybe that's not quite what you're saying.
No, because your privilege has nothing to do with it. The comfort of your situation has nothing to do with it. It's more existential. You could have everything you want in life and something's just missing, and that starts to become pretty heavy. Also, we can arrive at this through many paths, and one of them is gradual, constant seeing more clearly what things are. In a sense, it's a softer approach.
I think I've been following that softer approach, and that's why I've had tastes and feel like I'm slowly upgrading my map. The reason I brought up what's holding me back is because maybe it feels like too soft of an approach, or like there's a way to update some parts of the map and keep others in the dark.
Updating the map vs. seeing that the map is a map
Updating the map is only half of the work, and it's actually the work that is never-ending and never gets anywhere. It's a very valuable kind of work, but it doesn't arrive at anything. It's constant improvement.
I mix it in with the other half of the work. To me, both halves are very important, and I think other circles tend to focus more on one or the other. The other half is the absolute clear seeing that a map is a map. And it's harder than it seems, because we think, "This is a map and that is reality," but no: both are part of the map.
That part is actually easy for me. I work in geography and data visualization. "The map is not the territory" is a common phrase.
It's easy in that context, not in the reality of what you are and what the world is.
I guess maybe I have a map of "the map is not the territory."
Exactly.
So what do you recommend in order to shift into the actual lived experience of the map not being the territory, to shift from having a map of that idea into the reality of it?
The need for direct dialogue
I recommend direct dialogue with people who will point things out and mirror and challenge you. I'm not saying avoid books or videos, but those aren't enough on their own. It has to be something where you are mirrored and challenged in real time. And then bring to these people (it doesn't have to be me; I can give you recommendations) the thing that's challenging you most deeply, the thing that's most difficult for you. Be very transparent, sincere, and vulnerable. Take the risk. Everything else you're doing supports this, but the highlight is direct interaction with someone who can clarify things in real time and point out: "That's more mind, that's more thought. It's not reality."
Inquiring into foundational beliefs
The practices you can do on your own involve looking at foundational beliefs. When you experience a subject, inquire into that. If you feel that there is a subject perceiving something "out there," that experience is coming as sound from out there to you, as image, as sound: inquire into that as possibly not true, not real. Even if intellectually you say, "No, I get that it's this other way," in your day you experience yourself moving through space and time more often than not. Inquire into that: a linear experience of an "I," a subject moving through space and time with fully independent, self-originating choices and will.
The conversation about whether we have free will misses the point. The "I" that supposedly has free will is where the error is happening. I would say that I, as consciousness, as universe, have free will. But the small, separate "I" that we habitually assume ourselves to be is the problem.
These are things you can look at on your own, but it will help to have these conversations. If you expose where you get stuck, where you struggle, then the deeper beliefs can be weeded out in dialogue.