What If People Are Only Being How They Know

What if we’re all being — only acting — from the place we know how to be?

We don’t know…what we don’t know. Right?

What if that person never had a loving family or community, and therefore never truly learned or understood love — unconditionally?

What if they never felt safe in their surroundings, or even in their own physical body?

What if they had a loving family, but were bullied as a child?

What if they had what seemed to be a perfect childhood, yet internalized something along the way that made them feel “bad”? Aren’t we all told that good boys or girls do this or that? Can’t we all relate?

Now, this doesn’t necessarily condone harmful behavior. But it might help us shine a light of understanding, or feel compassion, understanding, relating.

It might even allow us to accept — without judgment, without needing to fix or change anything — both in ourselves and in others.

This turning inward of experience, mostly emotions, is what we often call trauma. Whether it’s “big” trauma (the death of a parent, abuse, etc.) or “small” trauma (not feeling good enough, or being told you’re constantly doing something wrong).

It’s still all baggage.

Something that we all carry.

And if we’re not aware of it, we’re just slinging our baggage at each other — using our trauma as a weapon toward others, or turning it inward toward ourselves.

None of this is right or wrong.

It just is.

Back to that first thought…

What if people are only being how they know how to be?

And what if, at some point, we begin to become aware?

We start turning the mirror back toward ourselves — questioning our actions, wondering why we do what we do, feeling the feelings, all without judgement. Just a type of seeing, witnessing.

Some level of self-reflection is required to begin seeing our own trauma and triggers — to stop slinging them outward.

And again, none of it is right or wrong.

It’s simply the being maturing. Not biological age, but maturity in awareness.

At some point — whether in this lifetime or another (more on that another time) — we begin the journey of waking up.

Curiosity arises.

And slowly, we begin turning the mirror back toward ourselves.

This is what the ancient paths offer: tools to help us begin to see.

To move from ignorance toward light.

Toward truth — the truth of who we really are. Beneath the patterns. Beneath the traumas. Beneath the noise of the mind.

Until then, perhaps we are all simply young souls (as my teacher likes to call it), children being told not to touch the stove.

And we listen — because that’s what good children do.

But until we touch the fire, until we have the experience, the teacher, the tool, the guru (literally meaning “from darkness to light,” the remover of ignorance), we continue along our path of being only how we know how to be.

It happens to all of us. In this lifetime or another.

We feel the burn.

We realize it’s an experience — no one did it to us, and we didn’t do it to ourselves.

And there is no ‘deserving’ of it. It just happened.

And slowly, we begin to let it go.

It might be unbearable at first.

But then, it becomes somewhat of a seeking. A curiosity.

A turning toward the light.

Toward the path of unconditional love, peace, and what some traditions call bliss.

A quiet knowing that we no longer want to touch the stove again.

Nor do we want to put anyone else’s hand on the fire.

Not because it’s the “right” thing to do.

But because we feel their pain too.

Compassion. Empathy. Non-harm toward another. Ahimsa.

And so again, back to that first question…

What if we saw people for what they are — beings acting only from the place they know how to be?

Could we meet them there with grace?

Could we meet ourselves with grace?

With awareness and openness. Acceptance. A deep knowing that everything is unfolding as it must — just like children growing up.

No one above.

No one below.

All made from the same mysterious stuff.

All on the same path, just traveling along different roads, all ending up in the same place.

As Ram Dass so beautifully said:

“We’re all just walking each other home.”