The play of construction and deconstruction.

There is nothing more intriguing and fulfilling than inner exploration. An inner view — of what makes me, what constitutes my being. Why do I behave the way I do? What interests me? What repels me? My deeper, secret orientations — are there any deeper layers of my being? Do I sense that there is a deeper layer than what is apparent to me and to those around me? How do I know? Am I to conclude that what I am is a result of the DNA and heredity that I carry? Am I one amongst the many that co-exist around me? Do I belong to a particular race, creed, religion? Am I really the one that I believe I am? What is the source of my way of being, of my attitude and thinking? Do I really think? Am I a thought? How do I become aware of the layers of my personality? What really is the ‘I’ that I keep referring to? Is there an ‘I’ that is aware of the apparent ‘I’? I can become aware of only that which I am not — then what am I not? This self-inquiry, referred to as atma-chintan, should then lead to atma-bodha (knowing the real me).

This inner quest — that is, the turning of attention or the gaze from the ‘outer’ world to my ‘inner worlds’ — has been with me ever since I was a child. This has been a single-minded pursuit during my waking hours, and it is to this effect that I tend not to engage with people and the world outside, the only exception being when I have to work or engage for administrative reasons.

Is there really an outer and an inner? The world did amaze me, and it still does. However, this inner quest — the inner worlds, as it were — amaze me even more. Living a life and perpetuating the personality that one becomes without any noticeable change is profoundly frustrating, to say the least. Where is this push coming from? What is this push? How is it that most of us are not aware of it? This will then define the broad spectrum of this book: to put this forth for consideration to anyone who cares, to anyone who feels the same as I do.

Just like any other child, I enjoyed constructing the Lego blocks (Lego is a line of plastic construction toys that are manufactured by The Lego Group, a privately held company based in Billund, Denmark. The company's flagship product, Lego, consists of variously coloured interlocking plastic bricks accompanying an array of gears, figurines called minifigures, and various other parts.)

The construction of blocks was a spontaneous activity for me, without an end in mind (most of the time). Whatever one would construct would be the result of a momentary ‘play’ of the mind in synchronous coordination with hand movements. One would not ‘know’ what one was constructing until it was constructed — at least, this was the case with me most of the time, if not all the time. Sometimes, I would have an end goal — for example, I would want to construct an airship. Having constructed it, one would wonder, do a quick appraisal, and feel a sense of deep satisfaction somewhere deep down — and in that very moment, forget about it.

Ever since childhood, I was never in the habit of preserving what I constructed. Somehow, an empty mind gave me peace. However fascinating the construction may have looked, I was then equally, and perhaps with a tad more enthusiasm, interested in deconstructing what I had constructed. Block by block, I would consciously dismantle every piece, layer by layer — making sure it was not done in a haze or impetuously, but with the same synchronicity with which I had built it. It was fulfilling. I, a child then, had no idea what was happening. Why did I enjoy this construction–deconstruction play? Why did the mind experience peace whilst deeply involved in this play?

I am now an ‘adult’, yet I equally enjoy the construction–deconstruction play. However, the Lego that I once engaged with has now been replaced with the human — that is, me. The ‘I’ — name, form, and quality (nama, rupa, guna) — is the construction. The question is: what hands constructed me?

The inner gazing — or the inner turn — is by far an intellectual process. It is simply a looking, a witnessing, of all that happens ‘inside’ you — in your mind. Looking at the processes of the mind itself, becoming aware of all the drama that takes place moment to moment. This is the deconstruction — the constructed persona getting dismantled, strand by strand. Just an inner gaze resulting in the breaking down of all that the mind has built, accumulated over lifetimes.

When you look inside, at first, you see the construction — the web or fabric that has been woven meticulously over time. A mass of thoughts, ideas, beliefs, every little experience that one has had. The Lego stands constructed — every block presenting or putting out an influence (prabhava), an impression or a collection of impressions, a particular way of being — of reacting, speaking, and even thinking. A manifestation of prabhava resulting in a vyakti (vyakt-i — that which manifests).

The personality — from persona, that which puts out and hides — stands presented for your gaze. What do I put out? My deepest fears? My desires? The mental or vital (seat of emotions) knots not yet resolved? My pushes and my pulls? My tastes and preferences?

A serious and relentless investigation (just an inner look — no philosophy involved) brings out layers of my personality. If you continue this inner look a little further, and rather more seriously and with intent, you begin to map each of these movements in your personality to the environment in which you were brought up — to your parents, your culture, and your education.

I haven’t yet found myself. Why do I get angry? Why do I lie? Why do I hide things? Why do I behave in a particular way? Why do I get along well with some people, and why do I not get along well with others? This is fascinating. The more I dig, the more interested I become. From the psychological layer of my personality, I travel deeper into subliminal ranges of my being.

Even as I further my inner gaze and investigation, I see a network — of sorts — of forces and events, of impressions, of people. I can concretely see that there is movement — of something I want to tag as forces — something that has been hiding, camouflaged in the whole of the personality complex that moves about at a rapid pace, influencing, pushing, and sometimes sabotaging my reactions and responses — of which I am profoundly oblivious.

Diving deeper, there seems to be a sudden realization. After having penetrated layers and layers of my personality, I begin to know — perhaps for the first time — why I had the kind of experiences I had. The ‘why’ of all that happened begins to reveal itself. Why this particular family? Why this work? Why can’t I get along with certain people and circumstances? It begins to make sense — at least rudimentarily.

Having gone so far and so deep down the rabbit hole, I sense that there are still ranges yet to be known and experienced — and that is the quest I currently hold. Ranges not constructed by anything in the world. Ranges of personality that are not woven by any fabric. Not belonging to any prabhava — for I cannot be my conditioning. There is something waiting to come out — to hold the reins of my life, to be a governor. Is that the psychic being, the chaitya purusha that Sri Aurobindo speaks of?

The quest for inner knowing has given birth to a love for learning.