Consciousness Series: Neti Neti (Not This, Not That)

You might’ve noticed that a lot of my writing leans toward what not to do, or not to be. That’s not because I’m a cranky anti-everything type (well, maybe just a little). It’s because of a principle from Vedanta called Neti Neti — meaning “not this, not that.” And it’s bloody useful when you’re trying to work out who or what you actually are underneath all the noise. (my favourite hobby)

Let me explain.

From the moment you were plonked into a meat suit in Mumma’s womb and eventually booted into the 3D world — red-faced, screaming, and totally unprepared — you’ve been bombarded with conditioning. “Don’t cry too much,” “Be polite.” “Don’t hit your brother.” “Eat your veggies.” And then unless your parents were full-blown hippies, they probably parked you in front of the babysitter — aka the idiot box — and let the television layer on a few more sticky stories about how to be human.

By the time you were five, it’s like you’d driven through the Hay Plains in the middle of a locust plague and got a windscreen caked in bugs. Bugs representing all the shoulds and shouldn’ts, the beliefs, labels, expectations, and assumptions you’ve picked up. You’ve got so many bugs on the glass, you can't see where you're going and you've forgotten what the sky looks like. But here’s the kicker: you are not the bugs. You’re the driver. And you know that but..

By the time you hit your twenties, you're often so tangled up in stories that you can’t tell what’s yours and what was just stuck to you like gum on a shoe. Even when you start waking up and think: “Hang on… maybe I’m not all this stuff I was told I am.” Wiping off the bugs is scary. Sometimes it can feel like standing out in the cold; naked, wet and alone with only a dish sponge crying that you haven't got something more industrial (that doesn't break the glass). And truthfully, it’s hard to tell where the muck ends and the glass begins.

So what are you, really?

Neti Neti is the practice of gently (or not-so-gently) peeling away everything you're not. You are not your stories. Not your programming. Not your body, beliefs, bank account, political alignment, trauma, triggers, bugs or tattoos. You are something deeper. Something steadier. Something golden and wordless under the rubble.

Wanna Try a Bit of Neti Neti Yourself?

Of course you do. You’ve got a journal, right? Well now is a time to grab it and...

1. Write a list of every identity you associate with.

Anything that ends in -ist. Example: Feminist, Artist, Buddhist, Activist, Dentist. .Now take a deep breath… and realise none of these are you. Oof. That one stung a little, didn’t it?

2. Write “I am…” and list everything you think you are.

Now cross them all out. Every last one. Slap yourself on the head (with love of course), say “Neti Neti,” and start again.

3. Want to know if you’re really as non-judgemental as you think?

Try this. Write your first gut response to each of these:

• People who wear glasses...

• Blondes...

• Black people...

• White people...

• People in wheelchairs...

• People who drive convertibles...

• People who follow all the rules...

• People on Centrelink...

• People who believe every conspiracy theory...

• Spiritual people.. (this one gets bonus points)

  
  

What came up? Be honest. No shame — just noticing where the programming still lives.

4. Find a belief you’re absolutely sure is true.

Write it down. Now question it. Then question it deeper. Still sure? Drop it in the comments or send me a message and I’ll lovingly explain why it might not be.

Congratulations. You’re on your way to understanding absolutely nothing. Which is kind of the point.

But what about those stories that are really deep and painful?

Like the "I'm a worthless so and so" one? Wedged firmly into a ball of deep shame? I see you, and I know that no amount of telling you that story isn't real will help. This is where Internal Family Systems (IFS) becomes my favourite go-to framework, because it works so well in a spiritual growth context. IFS says: You, at your core, are like a ball of luminous, loving awareness. The real you (that you're trying to find in the above exercises) is calm, compassionate, creative, curious, connected — all the C-words that aren’t rude.

Now imagine that around this beautiful shiny Self, in the passenger seat, are other little orbs — parts of you. Archetypal parts. Some are fierce defenders, some are quiet protectors, some are damaged inner children still licking their wounds from back on the Hay Plain. These parts aren't bad. They're doing their best. They’re the team that kept you alive and helped you get this far. They're more like the cheer squad in the passenger seats of the car. Even if they range from 2 months to current day and are fighting like a pack of chimpanzees over the vodka and chocolate.

Sometimes we mistake these parts for the whole, and like the bug analogy, we can't see our way home. Imagine one of these parts — say, the panicked 5-year-old — jumps into the driver’s seat and suddenly it’s like you’ve got a toddler running a board meeting. Cute. Chaotic. Not ideal. You probably met your partner's 5yo part last time you argued about who fed the budgie. Unhelpful. We don't want the parts to run the show, but to honour them as helpers by our side. IFS can help us make peace with the parts that don't feel peaceful, and help them all to not just get along, but assist in creating an awsome life that we want.

In Summary…

The parts, the bugs, they are all analogies for Ego. And we are not here to douse it in petrol and set fire to it as though it were the spawn of satan, we're actually here to understand it, and love it, with courage and compassion. When we understand what it is not, we leave space for what it is.

Confused? Fantastic. You're well on your way to understanding Nothing. The paradoxical one with a capital 'N'.

So let’s keep hunting for that shiny golden Self underneath the locust guts. And if you need help wiping the bugs off your windshield, or loving some unloved parts you know where to find me.