When something goes wrong, we all love to be right. Let me say that again. We LOVE to be right. We check the facts. We run over whatever-went-wrong in our minds. We obsess over making sure that we said and did the right things. That something or somebody else was at fault—and our butts are covered.
When we are satisfied that we meet this criteria—yes, I TOLD YOU SO!—we occupy the moral high ground. When the inquisition comes, whether it’s at work, in our relationships, or something trivial like a dispute on eBay, we lay out our defence, secure in the knowledge that we will be absolved of blame and will enjoy the relief—perhaps even the vicarious thrill—of being vindicated.
Lovely. Wonderful. Marvellous. Except when you’re going through Ascension.
The Ascension journey is all about non-judgment: transcending wrong and right. In the polarised 3D world, everything is defined by its place on the spectrum of good-or-bad, left-or-right, this-or-other. Our judgments—mostly unconscious—determine how we experience each moment. Judgment in our favour triggers elation, judgment against us its opposite: sadness, frustration, rage.
Sweet and sour fruits
In an ancient Hindu text, the Mundaka Upanishad, it is written: “The ego and the Self dwell in the same body. The former eats the sweet and sour fruits of the tree of life, while the latter looks on in detachment.” The sweet and sour fruits are our victories and defeats, the times we got it right and the times we didn’t. Ascension is the shift from leading our lives with our ego in the driving seat to making our emotionally balanced Self the driver.
The view from the moral high ground is great. But the moral high ground is also the position of the victim. When something goes wrong, we love to be absolved of responsibility, but this puts us in a position of powerlessness. Things happen to us, not because of us.
And when we feel we’ve been wronged, we’re dependent on the feelings and actions of others for redress. We stand on the moral high ground and bang a drum like a frustrated child, demanding action.
Ascension teaches us to accept responsibility for co-creating every single moment of our lives, no matter how it played out on the surface, no matter who appears to have been wrong or right. Co-creation means all those involved in the situation created it together. Asking why you co-created a situation that hurt you is far more empowering than standing on the pitcher’s mound of morality and pointing the finger at someone else.
Moral behaviour has been deeply stamped into us, both through genetic inheritance and childhood conditioning. The word ‘moral’ comes from mores, which means ‘customs’. Sigmund Freud observed that customs create morals, not the other way round. In other words, the habits of the majority are what become our morals. There is nothing inherently superior about them—and during Ascension they can become a millstone.
You can’t ascend from a position of victimhood. You can’t ascend from the moral high ground, only from the flat plains of detachment. The moral high ground was nice for a while—but, if you’re serious about Ascension, it no longer serves you.