Rumi, one of humanity’s all-time greatest poets, wrote:
Come, return to the root of the root of your Self.
Once you get hold of selflessness,
You’ll be dragged from your ego
and freed from many traps.
OCD is one such trap of the ego.
In the same poem*, Rumi wrote:
Why suffer at the hands of things that don’t exist?
*The Root Of The Root Of Your Self, by Mawlana Jalal-al-Din Rumi
OCD exists to the degree that we cede power to it. Long-time sufferers may have ceded all power to it. As one takes back that power, OCD withers. The struggle to take power from OCD isn’t between your ego and the OCD, it’s between your true self and your ego.
After all, OCD is a product of your ego. Your ego invented it as a form of protection. Maybe it was to try to control events outside your control; maybe it was to distract you from your own thoughts. It may have even been a way to fill your mind with thoughts and emotions so that you wouldn’t be stuck in the stillness of the ego-less self.
There are many ways to see your nature as a human being. Here is one:
You are comprised of three things: Your body, mind and spirit, or self. Your body exists to give you the experience of life in this world. Your mind interprets that experience. Your mind also creates an ego, a false sense of self, to protect itself. Your true self, the energy that is connected to all of creation and has no beginning or end, may seem elusive to the mind. After all, the mind works with the human creation of language which is wholly inadequate to describe the true nature of the self. The self is literally incomprehensible to the mind except as an experience — a label-free, wordless experience.
The degree to which you can experience the infinite peace and love of the true self is the degree to which you can get your mind out of the way, quieting down thought, especially OCD, which is the most chaotic of thought.
To give yourself a brief taste of the serenity of the ego-free (and OCD-free) self, try this:
Sit comfortably or walk slowly (in nature is best).
Ask yourself, “Am I aware?” and become aware of being aware.
Focus attention on your breath. Just observe it, the mechanics of it.
Notice the sounds, sights and smells around you.
Every time you have a thought outside of this awareness, observe it — that is, be aware that you are having the thought. You can even become aware that you are aware of the thought. If there are sensations in your body, become aware of them as well. Instead of labeling or analyzing them, just give them your attention.
The more often you practice awareness in this way, the easier it will become to stay aware for longer periods of time… perhaps a second or two at first, maybe a minute or two after some practice.
When I do this, I feel a sense of relief from anxiety and a deep feeling of peace. I notice that if I feel an urge to do an OCD ritual of some sort and instead of complying I just accept and observe that urge and the accompanying discomfort until it dissipates, I feel a surge of blissful energy.
These blog posts of mine have become increasingly spiritual. They reflect what I’m going through. As I evolve, I share what I am learning. In that spirit, here is a poem I wrote the other day in the wake of the pandemic, about taking off our masks only to reveal that we are still hiding behind masks:
I took off my light cloth mask, finally letting everyone see my real mask.
My real mask that took decades to etch deeply into my head.
Finally my mask can interact directly with your mask again.
These light masks were confusing — everyone seemed like nameless spirits, no one worth more than any other. Where were the identities, fabricated over the years on beds of sand?
Now that I can see your persona, your religion, your skin, your preponderance of beliefs, now that I know where to place you, I no longer have to worry about being exposed to still, empty truth.
