Do you sometimes observe people and wonder whether they ever become bored with themselves? A bias towards the affirmative is usually the prompt for this question. After all, if someone is interesting and authentically vibrant in personality, the tendency to question whether boredom is their mental ringmaster or not, is highly unlikely.
The question is clearly rhetorical, and therefore left to fade in the cul-de-sac of thinking. But what about directing it towards the self.
Do I ever get bored with me?
It’s an always, sometimes, never kind of question. Besides the fact that I loathe those type of surveys because I can seldom neatly fit my responses into the options on offer, is it even possible for me to answer, when it was I who asked? So, who is I and who is me?
Surely we need to know who’s who before we can launch into a personality assessment. And are there really two parts to the self?
If ‘I’ can consider ‘me’ to be boring, then before I have even confirmed my speculation, I have underlined a division between the observer and the observed. Or to put it another way, I, the subject, is contemplating me, the object.
And does this line of thinking not naturally extend into a suggestion of the potential existence for a host of characteristics within the self, such as interesting, curious, bossy, vibrant, nervous, grumpy and so on. I’m not necessarily referring to archetypes here, but rather the everyday descriptions of facets of personality with which we are familiar.
So then when one’s demeanour clearly portrays a dominant facet, it raises the question as to how that trait gained the upper hand. We must assume that it grew into prominence. One cannot be born boring, for example, because then the ‘I’ would not be able to become bored with the ‘me’. Boring would be the norm and therefore remove the ability for developing into it or discerning it as a personality trait that has played centre stage for too long.
Answers to the how and why underlying this prominence must surely include an interplay between nature and nurture, influencing perspectives, and possibly eroding hope or belief in innate potential. A myriad reasons spring to mind.
Years ago, I came across an analogy which portrayed the various characteristics or sub-selves of the Self as players in an orchestra with the conductor depicted as the observer or ‘I’. The orchestra, including the conductor, therefore, illustrates the whole self. Unfortunately I cannot trace the source of this analogy to give due credit to its author, nor can I recall any further expansion on that metaphor.
However, it’s an analogy that lends itself to interesting extrapolations which may help you to temper the emotional spikes when they occur and possibly shed a little light on your internal layout comprising the Self.
The players or Sub Selves within the orchestra (the whole Self), each contribute to the overall performance (behaviour). Yet it would be near impossible for a single player, immersed as each one is, to give a fair assessment of the orchestra’s performance in its entirety. The only member of the whole ensemble capable of giving an overview of the output is the conductor (the ‘I’) whose position provides enough distance from the players to allow him to observe the performance holistically. In addition, from his vantage point he is better equipped to guide performers and in turn influence the expression of mood to align with intention. Experience and keen awareness hone the conductor’s skill in guiding and maintaining that alignment, as well as identifying players who mislead the observable expression.
If the conductor can perceive discordant imbalances, then surely the capacity to question them also exists, possibly leading to the identification of that which triggers disruptive spikes in performance. Such experiences afford the conductor opportunities to learn, to pre-empt triggers, and make adjustments that promise desirable outcomes, bearing in mind that ‘desirable outcome’ is one that aligns outer expression with inner intention.
What becomes clear in this analogy, is that a desirable outcome cannot be achieved by one player alone, but rather by the commitment and co-operation of all the players, under the influence of the conductor. A discordant or jarring output, on the other hand, can be the responsibility of just one player. With the advantage of distance from ‘the action’, the conductor is best positioned to identify and address this. Distance offers perspective unmuddied by immersion in the problem, at the level of the problem.
I do not see this analogy in the light of a moral evaluation of oneself, but rather in terms of trying to identify what one is feeling and the possible underlying reasons for this. In visualising the whole stage, the ‘I’ (conductor) is better able to spot the prominent characteristic (player) – the level of prominence or disruption is underlined by the contrast between the behaviour of that player or sub-self and the rest of the players.
If the player(s) are left to run amok, the ‘I’ can feel overwhelmed, losing itself to the deception that the state of amok is its identity thereby leaving it at the mercy of that Sub-Self. Let’s say the “naughty” sub-self is Anger, for example. In this delusion the ‘I’ would fail to recognise that ‘I’ is not angry but rather the awareness of an angry expression. Anger is just a part of the overall identity, part of the ‘me’ that is expressing at that time.
So, with the advantage of an overview, ‘I’ may wonder what prelude possibly triggered Irritation, for example, to step up and succeed in enticing Anger to join in the foray. The very act of observation instantly extricates the ‘I’ from the playing or behaviour. This facilitates a return to inner peace, should that be the intention of desire. With awareness comes a sense of control and in turn a greater degree of choice, for example, whether to continue or subdue the expression of anger.
In explaining this to someone, I cited an experience I had had at the hands of a municipal employee where I had handed over documents required to renew a licence. On sifting through them, the civil service employee on the other side of the double glass barrier, informed me that I needed yet another document which in fact was superfluous in view of the present ones. She failed to see logic and maintained her senseless position. This interaction had been preceded by an hour long wait in a queue. In such a dreary environment, my Humour, starved of stimulation, had fallen asleep (as well as off the stage), leaving my inner Warrior, triggered by Frustration and Despair, to surge into prominence. And when my Warrior starts beating the drum, my inner Child along with my inner Bitch gleefully want to join the foray. They exert such a strain on the reins held by Grace and Dignity, to name but a few!
A cartoon caricature of me would have depicted vivid expletives atop steaming lava shooting out of all my cranial orifices as I stormed back to my car. And then, suddenly, my conductor (observer) awoke and assumed an aerial view of the scenario, diminishing the scene to an hour long wait, an interaction with an obstinate civil employee which in turn necessitated a return visit the following day with said document. And that’s it. Nothing more. I had lost control.
After that awakening, I allowed Appreciation to gain in crescendo, appreciation for the fact that I had a car to drive home in, a home to return to, and in the absence of anything urgent the next day, the time to return for the licence. All quite simple really.
And keeping with simple, an everyday example that brings a certain immediacy in understanding, is that of witnessing a friend wrestling with a problem in which we have had no involvement. From an outsider’s perspective, we can see all the angles of the situation and the contributing factors, the haphazard dance of emotions and the possible gaps in logic. We can view the scenario without all the baggage and personal fear of the outcome. This is the observer’s role – one that facilitates finding a solution and peace.
Our friend trapped in the wrestle, on the other hand, is weighed down by emotions surging to the fore, blocking rational thinking, possibly leading to misinterpretations which in turn may trigger further food for later regrets. Overwhelmed in the maelstrom of snowballs and vicious circles!
Awareness of a misalignment presents as a feeling of discomfort, unease, overwhelm, a possible loss of control and so on. Observation offers refuge – pausing for a few deep breaths, mentally stepping back and putting distance between the ‘I’ and the observable. This allows the ‘I’ to register the interplay of sub-selves and the prominence of one or a few. It puts it into perspective that despite their prominence, they are still only a part of the whole, a part of the identity.
And so, to return to the question, Do I ever get bored with me? Well perhaps there are times when Scaredy Cat predominates over Adventurer, leaving space for Boredom to present Groundhog Day. Maybe I need to have a chat with Scaredy Cat and Adventurer! More often than not though, Curiosity has a vast appetite that devours available time.
The power of observing enhances the power of choice and in turn the awareness that I am not a hapless victim of emotions.
As Eckhart Tolle says, “Rather than being your thoughts and emotions, be the awareness behind them.”
So glad I came across your article. It makes a lot of sense and has given me a tool for better choices! I love the way you write. It's very expressive and reads like a melody. It is a symphony on its own! Thank you for the excellent food for thought. I also read your "Another Name For Manhole?" Besides addressing a very real and annoying situation, I had a good chuckle! Love your humour! Looking forward to reading more from you.
I've vaguely known about not being a 'hapless victim of emotions' but reading this opened me up to really be the observer, and 'get over' myself more rapidly.