How can we use symbols to live a better life?
That’s one of the questions I’ve been trying to answer over the last few months. Even longer—many years—if I’d count storytelling, i.e., narrative creation, as relating to symbolism.
You see, there isn’t a day going by where we don’t use or think of symbols.
Any character we read in a word is a symbol, a word itself is a symbol, a sentence can be a symbol, and the abstract idea we have of an object, is not the object; it’s a symbol (representing that object).
Even the ‘negative space’ of something can act as a symbol to represent something. Take this ‘negative space’ image below for example: we might see a triangle, but no triangle is drawn; we symbolize a triangle by showing what it is NOT.
It’s strange to think that so much of what we see and think daily are symbols… but it gets even weirder.
Are we also not symbols?
Everyone we know and perceive is represented by a set of symbols in our minds. My brother, for example, has a different ‘feel’ from my perspective than from someone else's perspective. I am projecting my version of him on him. But that set of symbols is not him.
Now when I look at myself, what do I project onto myself, as myself? Who is Jibran? Hmm? Am I also not just a construct, a set of symbols—ideas, opinions, feelings, abstract notions—trying to represent a functional human being? Sure, that set of symbols has served a purpose so far, but sometimes a subset of these symbols doesn’t represent the ‘real’ me that well anymore. Rather, in some moments, it’s possible that this set of symbols isn’t creating a well-functioning frame or perspective I have of myself.
So, can we change that frame? Can we actively influence our story by changing the symbols we use to represent ourselves?
Symbols create our story
With this rhetorical Ted-Talkesque question, the answer is, of course, “Yes!” But is it easy? No, no, I don’t think so.
We do change some of those self-defining symbols unconsciously, through trial and error, all the time. So over time, our set of symbols changes, sometimes slightly, sometimes massively. But this more or less happens to us and may not lead us to a better life, just a different one.
So what I find interesting is how we might positively and consciously change our perspective.
Not solely by striving to do it through explicit means like “Self-Improvement” and “Changing our Habits” (while we’re all following the same books by the same authors). That is only half the story (pun intended).
Story chooses our symbols
The other half of the story is to implicitly change the set of symbols we use by deciding what story we tell ourselves.
Our narrative of ourselves decides what we focus on, what symbols we choose, what decisions and actions we take, and ultimately, how we see ourselves.
This narrative we create can also cause some trouble: another word for this narrative-symbol construct is ‘identity,’ and if we identify too much with a small set of symbols, we will think we are the set of symbols. Hence tribalism and (identity) politics, etc.
So we see that our narrative is both the emerging result of all these symbols and the foundation for all those symbols.
Our perspective, our sense of self, simply said, is a feedback loop.
Does this self-frame still serve me?
This narrative-symbol loop is robust. A robust loop is both good and bad; when we’re mainly living a virtuous life, it’s nice that we won’t “fall off the wagon” as fast. But it's equally difficult to change when our narrative causes us to live a life we aren’t happy with.
Our narrative is so strong because we feel it IS us (you can also call it your ego). Especially when the narrative has persisted since childhood, affirmed by the people around us over all those years. Our memories then serve as proof of us being “this way” vs. “that way.” Having these defining memories is why it’s vital in all kinds of behavior change—whether through therapy, psychedelics, journaling, you name it—to reframe the past for identity change to happen.
For that identity change to happen, it may sometimes be necessary to dissociate, maybe just for a bit, from those close to us while we reframe our new set of symbols and narratives. Or for us to align with a new group of people that can help affirm our new self-frame. As the saying goes, “you’re the average of the five people closest to you.”
So a few questions we might ask ourselves from time to time to check our self-frame are:
What symbols do I have in my life that keep my narrative alive?
Which ones did I choose consciously?
Do those symbols still serve me?
Do I want/need to change my narrative?
Using physical and visual symbols to actively influence our self-narrative
Throughout human history, we’ve been using physical and visual symbols as a narrative (changing) device. A symbol we can feel and see daily is a potent reminder of the story we want to tell ourselves. From clothing, jewelry, and tattoo’s to castles, cathedrals, flags, and paintings, we all try to communicate a specific narrative through symbols.
An example close to my heart is the beautiful ring my wife, Gigi, made for herself a few years ago. It’s of a Ginkgo leaf, symbolizing longevity, with four small spheres, representing our family of four. (There was a Gingko tree next to the window of the Ronald McDonald house we stayed while our daughter was in the NICU close by for three months. For her, it‘s a symbol of life and sticking together—no matter what hardships we find on our road ❤️.)
Another common way people use symbols to affirm a particular part of their identity is in the form of a tattoo. Tattoos have been around for thousands of years, and it is a semi-permanent way to remember something you find important. So permanent, in fact, that I have, until recently, been very much against getting tattoos, at least for myself.
I felt I couldn’t be “defined” by a tattoo. I changed my mind all the time and thought, “how can a tattoo define the whole changing Being that is me?”
But now I can finally see that a tattoo does not define me and can actually help to use it as a narrative tool. I’m even going so far that I’ve been sitting with an idea for a tattoo for almost a year now! (Maybe I’ll be comfortable getting one in a few more years. 😉)
As I’m drawing to a close, I’d like to ask you a few questions I’d love to hear the answers to (if you’d like to answer in the comments or a reply):
How have you used symbols with intent (to change a narrative)?
Do you have a personal symbol, like a tattoo (or another way of focusing on a set of symbols to keep your narrative, your identity, a certain way)?
Thanks for reading!
Sincerely,
Jibran