An orgy of ego and being in mind

Just how does one discipline their mind and thoughts in this era of screens and constant distraction?

I was well intentioned yesterday when I got up, trying to keep in mind that I lack understanding and that nothing has inherent meaning. I’ve stopped watching the news, which is good. But then a familiar itch arose—a simple question. It doesn’t really matter what it was. I went onto ChatGPT, and before I knew it, I was lost in my mind again.

Using ChatGPT can feel like a trap. My ego mind loves the intellectual stimulation—a discourse with a machine that can seem so human, almost like having a stimulating conversation with your smartest friend. My mind soaks it up. Yet because ChatGPT is not human and will never steer the conversation, I watch my thoughts meander endlessly—from the state of the biopharma industry to the psychology of oligarchs.

Yesterday, I spoke with ChatGPT about protein science with such affection that it made me think I should return to industry. Then I veered into politics, psychology, and outcome-forecasting. Classic ego-mind behavior. It signals a lack of trust in the universe to work things out. My ego wants to know, understand, and anticipate as a form of protection. It believes that knowing—really, guessing—will ease its anxiety. That’s control. And when I allow too much of it, I separate from myself.

Zooming out, I see ChatGPT as a kind of mind maze. It’s enticing. I can wander in it for hours, seduced by the pleasure of thinking. What did I gain from that? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. What did I give up? Any sense of having accomplished something.

The situation worsened last night when I was asked about a former colleague. I gave an honest recollection, but it didn’t feel good. I saw him as kind, yet struggling with soft skills. I hate judging anyone. Looking back, I wondered—what if I didn’t understand anything at all? I went down memory lane, and whenever I do that, I become the person I used to be. I drop into my unhealed self. As A Course in Miracles teaches, perhaps I projected my own flawed meanings onto him, shaped by my insecurities.

Did I do a disservice? Probably not—no one is relying solely on my perception. Other souls are learning their lessons too. Still, it didn’t feel good, and that matters.

This made me sad, because I felt myself separating from my true self. The true self is not experienced through the mind; it’s felt through the heart. I don’t believe anything is lost. A little backsliding is normal.

I’m still torn about working in industry. Should I live here, if I can? Or return to something I genuinely love—protein science? What boundaries would I need to prevent ego dominance? If I did return, I know being in the lab is better for me. I like defined objectives. I like the quiet productivity of running an HPLC or doing light-scattering experiments. Is it always smooth? No. Instruments fail, flow cells break, mystery peaks appear. I don’t mind that. It keeps things interesting. I like problem-solving.

The real challenge would be loving and accepting others as they are in the workplace. We humans are bundles of insecurity—myself included. Maybe I’ve only ever seen my own insecurities reflected back at me. Would being around others hinder my spiritual growth, or enhance it? I don’t know. But isolation doesn’t seem to be helping either. When most of my conversations are with ChatGPT, that feels like a signal.

Perhaps I need to become more social again. I could return to volunteering. I stopped late last year when I took a coaching course. That ended in November, and I haven’t gone back.

I used to volunteer at a food pantry. It was meaningful, but sometimes heartbreaking. One man’s story still stays with me. I cried all the way home that day.

There were two people—likely in their 60s—a man and a woman. The man was large, quiet, withdrawn. The woman was his caretaker and had been caring for him for only a few years. She shared his story. He was born into family that was  violent and and abused drugs. He was brutally beaten by his parents. The state intervened and placed him in foster care, where he was then sexually abused by his foster family. Later, he suffered a head injury that damaged his short-term memory. School became impossible. As a teenager, he was diagnosed with schizophrenia. His life was spent in and out of institutions, often homeless.  He had a brother down south. Once, starving for any kind of love, he hitchhiked hundreds of miles just to see him—simply to connect with someone who might care. He had been so alone and lived in the absence of any love or affection. My heart broke for him.  In the car, I asked the universe why someone would endure such suffering. I heard an answer in my mind: “He will be that much more exalted in his next life.”  Maybe my own mind responded with my biggest hopes. Or maybe I heard the true answer. I don’t know. I believe we choose our lives. He chose the hardest one imaginable. I hope his next life is full of  love.

Remembering him today reminds me how fortunate I am. I was not abused. I was loved. My mind works. I’ve been able to support myself. What a privilege it is that my primary concern is what to do with my abundant life choices.  I am so grateful for that. 

Why do I get lost in the mind when I need to connect with what’s real? Spirit is more real than physicality because it’s eternal. This life is the dream, and like any dream, it’s easy to get lost in its maze.

What should I do with my day? I know I need exercise and yoga. I’ll work on my store—upload live photos and post listings to Pinterest. That’s tangible. That’s helpful.

Living here is beautiful, but isolating. Costs are rising. I catch myself assigning meaning again—and remind myself that I don’t understand anything. 😉

My real dream is to live near Lake Champlain, in a post-and-beam home. I feel these things become possible only when I let go of control and allow the universe to lead. I don’t know why I feel that way—I just do.

Perhaps the struggle is only happening in my own mind.

I don't expect a lot of people to relate to my challenges and experiences....most of you are working and trying to earn a living. I will ask you to do just one thing, and that is to be grateful.  Take a minute and remember the older schizophrenic gentleman who had been so abused and lacking love and look at your life....and be grateful for every part of it.  Grateful even for it's dull tedium.  Because very likely you have friends, family who love you and a roof over your head.  You have food to eat. You are not alone. You have a functioning mind. I hope you can be grateful for the little things too. The kindness of your colleagues....the smiling barista at your favorite cafe.  The beauty of freshly fallen snow. The purple/blue color of the sky on a late winter afternoon.  The happy dog walking with his human or the laugh of the child you see when you shop.  It doesn't matter what it is, but maybe you can look at the world with fresh eyes and not take those little things for granted.  Of course, you don't have to if you don't want to....but if you follow this advice you'll see a bit of magic enter your life.  I promise. 

Thank you for reading.