Waking Up a Little Sooner: How We Change

Photo by Lan Gao, on Unsplash

Is it even possible to change?

The question usually comes after years of struggle. We’ve tried to stop losing our temper, worrying excessively, criticizing ourselves, overeating, drinking too much, procrastinating, or falling into the same kind of dysfunctional relationships. We make sincere resolutions, only to find ourselves repeating the same behavior a few days or weeks later.

At that point, it’s tempting to give up.

But I know without a doubt that it is possible to change.

Over the years, I’ve come to see that what we call a personality is mainly a collection of habits. Some are physical, and some are emotional. We’ve repeated them so often that they seem inseparable from who we are. But they are habits, and habits can be changed.

How do I know this? Because for years I mistook my personality—my habits—for myself.

I spent a lot of time trying to discover myself. But all I ended up doing was discovering my personality: I like this. I don’t like that. I get nervous in this situation. I get angry in that one.

As a student of meditation, I learned that personality and self are not the same thing.

Personality is, for the most part, a web of unconscious habits of emotion and thought.

Understanding this was the key that allowed me to begin changing.

Once I understood that my habitual reactions were not me but rather my habits, I could begin to change.

How did I do that?

The real work began only when I started paying attention—not to my past, but to the present.

A situation would arise, an old fear would awaken, and before I knew what had happened, I was reacting exactly as I always had. It happened so quickly that it felt automatic. At the time, I thought it was just “me.”

It wasn’t me.

It was a habit.

That distinction may seem small, but it changed everything.

Habits are real, but they are not who we are. They are conditioned patterns of mind. Some have become so familiar that we mistake them for our identity.

Because of that, change is possible.

Not easy.

Not quick.

But possible.

Many years ago, I was involved with a woman who was generous, wise, and kind. She wanted a deeper commitment than I could give. Whenever the topic of commitment came up, my habit of fearing abandonment took over. Instead of moving closer, I withdrew.

Eventually she left.

Looking back, I don’t blame her. She gave me so many opportunities. The problem wasn’t me. It was my habitual fear of closeness.

I didn’t handle the breakup well. Afterward, one of her friends looked at me and said, “You are such a jerk!”

Those words cut deep.

Today I’m grateful for them.

She held up a mirror that I desperately needed to look into.

Change often begins that way—not with praise, but with absolute honesty about ourselves.

As long as I defended my behavior by saying, “That’s just the way I am,” nothing could change.

Only when I was able to say, “There is that old pattern again,” did change become possible.

The pattern wasn’t me.

It was something I was doing.

That realization also changed the way I thought about self-criticism.

For years I believed that condemning myself would help me change.

But self-condemnation never had the desired effect. Instead, it just made me feel bad.

It never made me kinder. It never made me more loving. It just gave me low self-esteem.

My meditation master, Swami Rama, wrote, “Do not condemn yourself. You have no right to do that. You are created by Providence, and you should learn to respect its creation.”

That sentence affected me.

I could acknowledge my mistakes without making myself out to be bad.

Once acknowledged, I was in a position to change the actions.

But habits don’t change overnight.

Changing a habit requires practice—repetition, over and over.

One of my graduate school professors, a black-belt martial artist, put it this way: If you have a bad habit, start paying close attention and try to catch it before you act it out. At first, you will fail. But over time, you will start waking up sooner. You will catch it earlier. Keep noticing and catching it earlier.

Eventually, you will notice when the impulse first arises.

That tiny space—that brief instant between the impulse and the action—is where freedom lives.

The impulse will still arise, but you now have a choice.

People often imagine transformation as a dramatic breakthrough after which old habits vanish forever.

That’s not how it works.

Transformation takes time, commitment, and awareness.

My wife sometimes tells me I’m a good husband.

Whenever she says that, I know she wouldn’t have said it forty years ago.

It's taken all that time to change many of the habits that pushed people away.

My dear meditation teacher, Swami Veda Bharati, once made a remark that puzzled me. Speaking about his master, Swami Rama, he said, “He is not a good man. He is a free man.”

It took me years to understand what he meant.

Freedom isn’t the absence of habits.

It’s no longer being unconsciously ruled by them.

I’ve been working on self-transformation for decades, and I still have a very long way to go. But every small step brings a little more freedom, a little more peace, and a little more love. I’m not becoming someone else. Instead, I’m gradually becoming free enough to be the person I was capable of being all along.