Toward the Sunny Shore: A Guide to Living Joyfully by Norbert F. Čapek—Chapter 4: Analysis of the Human “I”

To read about why I’ve begun this ongoing translation project, please lick THIS link. Corrections/alternative suggestions to the translated text from Czech readers/speakers will be most welcomed. Either add them in the comments section below or be in touch with me via the contact form on this blog. I need all the help I can get!

Please remember that this book was written between 1925-1939 when attitudes and ideas about all kinds of things were different to many of those we hold today. Also, recall that our own understandings of how the human body and mind works has undergone many changes since 1939. Consequently, although I have little doubt that we will find in Čapek’s book much that is useful, highly relevant and positive, we’ll also likely find a few things that jar with us, along with some things that seem simply to be wrong. But this is, of course, always the case whenever we are exploring a text written in a different age to our own.

With that caveat made, I hope you enjoy and find interesting and helpful the first-draft translations that appear here, and in subsequent posts over the coming months.

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Source Czech language PDF for this post can be found here.

Norbert F. Čapek
K slunnému brehu
Prúvodce do radostného Zivota

Toward the Sunny Shore

A Guide to Living Joyfully

Nakladatel Edv. Fastr, Praha (1939)

 

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4 — Analysis of the Human “I”

The significance and influence of the “I” on mood. – It differs from consciousness and personality. – The boundary between consciousness and the subconscious. – The subconscious is a function of the soul. – Its overestimation and underestimation. – How it arose and what it consists of. – Mysteries of the soul. – Automatism and complexes. – Conscious changing of the “I” – Creating new “I”s by one’s own choice. – The path to a fuller life.

The “I” is the centre of humanity’s joys and sorrows, struggles and worries, happiness and unhappiness. Some people indulge in drunkenness only because they feel stronger while doing so, because their “I” is elevated above ordinary feelings. Most family disputes often have their deepest roots in what each person thinks about themselves. In a similar fashion, disagreements arise in offices, workshops, societies, etc.

The human “I” is different from consciousness. The life of the soul manifests itself in various levels of consciousness: unconsciousness, shared consciousness, the subconscious, and the superconscious. The awareness of our “I” was preceded by general consciousness, as we can observe in every child. At first, the child speaks of themselves in the third person—and only later does the first spark of awareness of their “I” appear.

The human “I” is also something entirely distinct from personality. Personality encompasses everything a person is and lives for, whereas the “I” is simply one of the manifestations of personality.

Our “I” has its seat on the boundary between consciousness and the subconscious, as has been determined through anesthesia and other methods. During slow anesthesia conducted for such studies, the following process becomes apparent:

First, a person loses their sense of place, then of time, causality (causes and effects), recognition, hearing, sight, touch, then imagination. In the ninth stage, coherent thinking fades. Only in the tenth stage does a person lose the awareness of their “I.” After that, they enter the subconscious. A similar process can be observed in dying individuals. The activity of the heart ceases last.

Our “I” — and I emphasise this — is simply one of the functions of our soul, albeit a very important one. It is a temporary, earthly, mutable function — and I would say, in many respects, an illusory one.

If it seems that I somewhat undervalue or diminish the human “I,” let me stress that it is often overestimated, overvalued, idolized, treated as a deity, regarded as the alpha and omega, the beginning and end of human existence. Given this, I feel justified in pointing out that it occupies too large a space in human minds where it should not, and conversely too little where it should.

We do well occasionally to remind our “I” that it was not present when we were born, that it disappears during sleep, that it shrinks to nothing in hypnosis, that it is suppressed in sleepwalkers during their nocturnal wanderings, that it can be banished by anesthesia — in short, that it is something physical, dependent on bodily states, with only temporary and limited tasks, and possessing only as much power and rights as we assign to it. We must learn to distinguish between the notion of our “I” and our innermost being, which is much higher and broader. Our innermost being has the power and the right to overthrow any “I” and establish a new “I” whenever it chooses.

The human “I” is primarily the result of social relationships and impressions that have linked us with the surrounding world. Our “I” is constantly being shaped, remodeled, and adapted. For many, even a mere change of attire — whether civilian or uniform — can influence the colouring of their “I.” If someone is promoted, becomes wealthy, or receives an honorary title, it usually changes their “I” somewhat, and sometimes significantly.

There are people who have forged their “I” on the anvil of strict self-denial and purposeful self-discipline. This is their true “I,” and if you were to slice them apart, their “I” would not change for anyone else; and even if you offered them all the treasures of the world, nothing about that “I” would alter.

There are others — and they are not few — whose “I” is for sale. Some are not wholly for sale, but their “I” floats on the water like debris. They don’t know who or what they belong to. Some people’s “I” resembles an Egyptian mummy or a stone statue, so conservative are they!

It is interesting to observe how the human “I” is formed. If we compared it to a carpet made of many pieces, we would find that one part is taken from the habits, ideas, and concepts of the parental home. Another part comes from friends, another from school, another from church, others from instincts, from profession, politics, nationality, race, class, reading, physical constitution, health, climate, surroundings, life experiences, etc.

The core of our “I” is usually formed by our greatest passion. If a person is miserly, then money and everything related to it dominate their mind, to the point that they increasingly identify themselves with money and measure their worth by the amount of wealth they accumulate. For others, it could be something else, such as sexual desire, vanity, domineering behaviour, or even some life ideal with which the person identifies.

From a biological perspective, it is possible to verify that not only does every cell in the body exhibit a degree of independence, but so do various groups of cells. Glandular cells, for instance, seem to form their own state, which is placed in the service of the entire physical organism. Similar states exist for nerve cells, brain cells, muscle cells, blood cells, skeletal cells, and others. All these subordinate states within our body, all the billions of individual cells arranged in various groupings, have their central governance in the subconscious.

This brings us to the mysteries of the soul. According to certain laws, automatisms and complexes are formed in the subconscious, and each of these resembles a political party within the state, striving for dominance and to overthrow what we call the “I.” Each such complex can transform into an “I” and present itself as a distinct personality. Typically, one complex prevails, specifically the one backed by the strongest experiences and instincts.

This does not preclude uprisings, coups, and revolutions. It happens that multiple complexes suddenly strengthen, causing a disturbance so that a person hears voices within as though from different people. Sometimes the “I” is dethroned, and one of the suppressed complexes ascends the throne and even adopts its own name. All this happens when a person does not know themselves, does not control their moods, and does not consciously transform their “I.” I consider the most significant and beneficial mental activity to be the conscious and deliberate creation, alteration, or even overthrow of our “I” and the establishment of a new, better one.

I experienced something similar three times in my life. At the age of eighteen, I underwent what is often called conversion or rebirth. That experience contained all the hallmarks of a conscious creation of a new “I,” except that each of those hallmarks had a name different to those used by modern psychology. Under the influence of lectures, conversations, and reading, the idea of that new “I” was first formed, while the old “I” was constantly being challenged. What could have also proceeded developmentally and gradually happened, at least in my consciousness, all at once. I kept waiting for something extraordinary to happen, some miracle, and for that moment when I would shed the old person and put on the new. And that is precisely what happened. In my consciousness, I severed myself from the old notion of myself and identified with the new one, which had been previously formed. I felt a profound sense of excitement, joy, and everything else I had imagined I would experience—everything I had heard others describe. All the condensed and accumulated suggestions suddenly became effective—of course, more so in my consciousness, as the actual formation of character requires time and effort. Many “converted” individuals do not realize this, and therefore their results are unsuccessful. Just as under the influence of suggestion, a person can imagine themselves to be worse than they are, after their rebirth, they can see themselves as better, creating a much greater gap between the old and the new “I” than corresponds to reality.

The second time was when I was 35 years old. It was a psychologically highly interesting experience. At that time, I called it the “baptism by the Holy Spirit.” I spent an entire week under the influence of the strongest religious suggestions imaginable. There was fasting and nights spent in prayer among many serious men who shared the same outlook and expectations. The state I had long desired, for which I had undertaken a journey to England to the so-called Keswick Revival meetings, finally arrived, and I lived for about five weeks as if in ecstasy.

Before I dared to return to my homeland and embark on the work I now carry out, I experienced such a transformation for the third time as a Unitarian. What distinguished this experience from the earlier ones was that it was grounded in my knowledge and psychological experience; it was no longer a transient state about which I had to worry, and finally, the positive values were not only multiplied but also expanded to include the ability to act as a healing influence on the mental states of others. Additionally, there arose a greater capacity for creative work. In short, through better understanding and mastering the depths of my own soul and the laws by which God works with humanity, I am now able to accomplish more with less effort than ever before.

Similar transformations are particularly evident in all strong religious personalities. Of course, there are great differences among them, and I do not wish to place them on the same level. However, it is undeniable that Buddha’s conversion has something in common with Jesus’ struggle in the wilderness before being baptized by John. Paul’s conversion is similar to Tolstoy’s, and the Apostle Peter underwent three transformations as is hinted at in the New Testament.

Nevertheless, even the humblest person can experience such a transformation. It is desirable that everyone consciously “steps out of themselves” whenever they manage to create a higher and more vital idea of their “I,” with which they then identify themselves through the force of all their moral effort, remaining on this level until they succeed in taking the next step forward.

In my life, I have seen many such transformations. Drunkards left their old ways; angry and irritable people entered a new life; people consumed by various passions turned away from their destructive habits; old pessimists became optimists; individuals burdened by their own or others’ worries freed themselves, and many things that once concerned and troubled them no longer interested them. Even more numerous are those who have been healed of various ailments and illnesses, whose roots were psychological in nature. Most of all, there are those who once lived contentedly but now are far happier, and their lives bring them greater joy because they have learned to live a fuller, more beautiful, and triumphant life.

We come into the world with the potential for a victorious and beautiful life, but these predispositions must be stimulated in order to manifest them. It is useless for a child to be born with eyes and the ability to see if it is left forever in darkness. It requires the stimulation of sunlight. So it is with the ear and every other faculty. The more and the more beautiful stimuli a person has, the more abilities for a fuller life are awakened within them.

Different stimuli will be evoked by a cemetery or a society resembling a cemetery, and completely different stimuli will be stirred by the bubbling of a brook, the scent of a forest, birdsong, or the company of those who foster a creative life.

The greatest poverty is not the lack of material possessions but the lack of stimuli to awaken the forces and abilities dormant within us. A rich person is one who, through their awakened and cultivated faculties, finds many points of connection with the world around them and has a multifaceted relationship with everything that surrounds them. A rich person who has few connections to real life is poor. They perish amidst abundance. The more senses a person has awakened, the more new worlds are opened to them.

A person with a selfish “I,” striving to gain much solely for themselves, loses more and more because their “I” has fewer and fewer real, nourishing connections to life. But the more rays of love they send to others, the more their “I” expands, connecting through broader realms of sympathy, and the more they experience the unity of all existence.