The Three Questions: How to Discover and Master the Power Within You. Barbara Emrys
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our story as an excuse to feel victimized or to deceive ourselves. The truth can speak through the mind, just as it moves through nerves and flesh. The mind can choose to serve truth and not the stories. Life’s energy uses the tools available to create a body, a thought, or a dream. A healthy body is a wonderful conduit for energy, and an aware mind is the secret to making our reality work for us.
Your body is real, but me is fictional. And yet me is running the show. How many times have you defended your actions and not understood why? At times, we all regret doing things we consider inexcusable or saying things we don’t really mean. We like to say, “I’m only human,” but it’s not our humanness that’s causing the problem. So it’s natural to wonder who really is in charge. “Who am I?” we wonder, not really expecting an answer. No one stops to ask who they’re not, and that’s where we have to begin.
Be aware of yourself as energy, and everything changes. Here is how that works. You are no longer the victim of your beliefs; you are the creator. You are the artist. You are also the painting—the canvas that is your reality. Imagine picking up a brush and painting a figure that looks like you. Imagine doing that continually for the rest of your life. Unlike most figures in a painting, however, this one has a brain. It has a brain with a mind that gives meaning to what it perceives. It functions beautifully, but it’s not aware that there is an artist. There are many other figures in this painting, but they’re also not aware of the artist. This makes it inevitable that they rely on each other for knowledge. They react and interact with each other. They learn from each other.
Every day the scenario changes. Instant by instant, there are subtle changes happening to the painter’s main point of focus. The figure itself is coming alive at your touch. You not only have colors and brushes to work with, but you can make choices through this character. You can work as life works, providing constant opportunity for growth, so that the main figure adapts well to an ever-changing landscape. You can skillfully guide me into awareness.
Some people dare to look inward. They take the time to listen to their own thoughts and reflect on their own actions. They ask questions of themselves. “Am I really this kind of person?”
“Are these feelings genuine?” “If I’d known I had a choice, would I have done it the same way?” They catch themselves in mid reaction and change the response. They find emotional balance. That’s what it means to be present. That’s how we become healthier in mind and spirit. By observing, we can all learn. By modifying the voice in our heads, we have a chance to grow wise.
Some people stop believing their thoughts altogether. This is important, because once the voice in our head loses authority, it turns silent. We can observe events and respond genuinely. We’re used to reacting in expected ways. We’re used to seeing things as we’ve been taught to see them—and as we’ve preferred to see them. Once we stop lying to ourselves, all that is left is truth. All that is left is authenticity, something we lost in our storytelling.
Throughout human history, people have been wondering, questioning, seeking. Some of those people have changed the world—not just their world, but the entire dream of humanity. They begin by doubting what they know. They ask one question, then another. They consult wiser men and women, perhaps. Soon, they start listening to the main character of their own story. It has a voice that speaks clearly, and only to them. What is it saying, and how much of its message is true? Can any of it be believed? For that matter, what is the truth, what is real?
We have a few amazing tools to work with when it comes to solving the mystery of who we are. The first tool is the power of attention. Our attention is what makes it possible to take notice and to learn. The sound of our name captures our attention, a response we learned in infancy. Attention brings every other faculty into play—we look, we listen, we respond. We receive information, and we process it. And, by catching another person’s attention, we learn to transmit information to someone else and out to the world.
Over time, however, we’ve mastered the art of sleepwalking through life. We don’t think we need to pay attention, because we’re sure we know what’s going on around us. Our responses to everything have become predictable. Our thinking is automatic, and we automatically assume we know what other people are thinking. It’s safe to say that our attention has been weakened by neglect. What if we rediscovered its amazing power? We’d have minds that are agile and flexible when events change—and change is inevitable.
There’s no need ever to be crushed by failed expectations. If we used our senses to gather real information, we wouldn’t be so mystified by life. If we really listened—not only to what people are saying, but also to what we say to ourselves in quiet moments—we would empathize with others so much more and show compassion toward ourselves. Instead, we make assumptions and encourage misunderstanding. Strengthening our attention may feel like a workout at first, but the rewards come quickly. The brain responds eagerly to new challenges. Look, listen, and observe without judgment. Notice how your emotional responses become more honest without a story. Attention can lead to total awareness in every precious moment of life.
The second tool is memory. Memory is stored in matter (our brains) the way music is stored on a compact disc. We’re able to store all the memories of a lifetime in one brain, but that doesn’t make those memories real. We store impressions of things, people, and events—but since every brain perceives in its own way, even siblings remember childhood events differently. Memory helps to create an impression of reality, but impressions aren’t the same as truth. We rely too much on memory to tell us the truth. We let it turn our attention away from the present moment and draw us into the past. We frequently use memory against ourselves, but we have the power to use it differently. Instead, we can let memory enlighten us.
Just as memory played a key role in our early development, it can guide us in our adult transformation. In infancy we watched our parents; we listened, and we imitated. Everything we observed became part of our own pattern of behavior. We tried to walk, we fell down, and we tried again. We learned to avoid pain and move toward pleasure. And what about now, when we wish to change some unpleasant patterns? Why wouldn’t we do everything we can to take care of our physical body and our emotional well-being? We know how it feels to lose our temper and feel regret. It feels awful. We know how shame and guilt make us feel, and yet we still invite them in. Memory can serve us in our efforts to wake up and resist automatic responses. Memory can steer us away from abusive habits, encouraging us to stand up and walk forward with self-respect.
The third and best tool is imagination. Imagination is its own kind of superpower. We picture something in our minds, and then we make it real. In fact, just by imagining something wonderful, the body feels comforted and energized. We can also imagine painful events and horrible consequences. By imagining the worst, we produce fear in the physical body and spread fear to other bodies. We imagine the future and tune out the present. Imagination is power, for sure; but like all power, it can be corrupted.
Right now, we can practice using imagination in a valuable way. We can turn our attention to the exciting task of making ourselves more aware. We can use memory the way it was intended to be used—to keep us from repeating past mistakes. We can imagine things we’ve never tried to imagine. We can doubt what we know and let go of familiar stories. The mind wields enormous influence. It has developed habits over time, but we can change those habits. By using the tools available to us, we can calm the inner chaos and find peace in our virtual world.
You’re not who you think you are. In obvious ways, you’re not the kid you were at four years old, struggling with unspoken fears. You’re not the awkward teen, the rookie at work, or the young entrepreneur. You’re not someone’s significant other or your mom’s favorite child. You’re not the main character of your story or anyone else’s, regardless of how long you’ve played those roles. And you’re not actually the one you call me, who tries to speak for your physical body. You’re not your mind or the set of laws your mind tries so hard to enforce. It has created an entire governing force out of those laws, but that’s not what you are either.
You’re not really the little government in your head, but its laws nonetheless influence your actions and reactions. Sometimes that government seems tolerant; sometimes