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Portraits of the imperious self (7): the imperious self is hyperactive
This article is part of our series entitled “Portraits of the imperious self”:
► you may read the general presentation of the series here: Portraits of the imperious self (1): an ethics of transformation
► to view all the articles of the series, see: Portraits of the imperious self
This article is another episode in the monographic series dedicated to the imperious self—that relentless adversary that is paradoxically indispensable for our spiritual progress. It is indeed imperious, but it is also ingenious in its own ways, and at times cunning to the point of taking our reason hostage and having us forget its very existence—this is what the following examples and analyses are about to illustrate.
The imperious self is hyperactive and constantly exerts its pressure. As such, it is an emanation of the id that has this same characteristic—no effort is required for it to express itself, we merely need to let go. For example, when I’m at work, I don’t need to set an alarm to remember my lunch break. Hunger and the need to rest impose themselves on me. The—here legitimate—impulses of the id come naturally without my needing to make the slightest effort. The same goes for the imperious self. If someone criticizes me, for example, I don’t need to make an effort in order to get angry or for the desire for revenge to become an obsession for the next couple of days. The—negative and illegitimate—feelings I am experiencing in this situation come without my making any effort. At a closer look, it is not really me who is getting angry: anger or the desire for revenge invade my thoughts and impose themselves upon me.
The imperious self is therefore automatically and permanently active within us. It exerts continuous pressure on us in a way that is comparable to the pressure exerted by a mass of water against a dam. At the slightest crack or opening, it immediately sets out to invade us. One essential practical consequence can be drawn from this constant pressure: to avoid being submerged in no time by the imperious self, we need to wage a constant and relentless battle. In the field of ethical and spiritual progress, there is no such thing as treading water. Either we make the effort to keep the excesses of the imperious self at bay and we progress, or we make no effort and simply allow ourselves to be carried away by the flow of life. In the latter case, we are automatically invaded by the imperious self and we regress.
The imperious self at times manifests in our conscious self in the form of emotional thoughts (pressing impulses and desires), and at times in the form of deceitful rationalizing thoughts; most often, however, it expresses itself as a mixture of both. Although contrary to correct divine and ethical principles, these impulses and desires are generally pleasant—extremely pleasant, in fact—for our ego, though they can also be unpleasant or even painful, as is the case, for instance, with envy and greed, pessimistic ruminations, depressive or suicidal ideations, and rancorous or jealous thoughts (especially toward loved ones and acquaintances).
In general, the impulses and desires of our imperious self do not respect divine and ethical limits; instead, they continuously prod our psyche to reject beliefs and prescriptions based on correct divine and ethical principles, and to embrace their contrary. For example, based on correct divine and ethical principles, our inner guide strongly encourages us to believe in God, to avoid transgressing the rights of others, to be empathetic, to not seek revenge and to forgive, etc., whereas our imperious self pushes our psyche to do the opposite—to solely think about ourselves and to seek nothing but our own selfish pleasure.
Bahram Elahi, Fundamentals of the Process of Spiritual Perfection: A Practical Guide, Rhinebeck, NY: Monkfish Book Publishing, 2022, chap. 14.
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During my first marriage, after the honeymoon phase, I started getting annoyed because my wife kept complaining that I wasn’t doing enough of the housework, which was stopping her from working in her studio—she was a painter, and her studio was an annex of the house. I used to put in more work hours than her, and I also earned more, so I considered that I did not have to endure her constant recriminations. Progressively, particularly after the birth of our second child, things got considerably worse. Up to then, when she complained, I simply didn’t respond, closeted myself in my study or came home even later from work. At one point, her recriminations became more and more vicious, and we started having horrible fights. We ended up splitting up after a long and harrowing divorce during which we mutually sabotaged each other in all possible ways. Today, years later, I am remarried to a woman who has taught me the value of working on myself and of fighting against my imperious self. And I realize to what extent during my first marriage my ex-wife and I were under the influence of our imperious self, not only during the divorce, where both our behaviours were clearly unethical, but at the onset of our life together. If at the time I had started working on myself, if I had listened better, had more respect for her work, better accepted the criticisms, if I had kept a grip on myself when dealing with the little things of everyday life, I would certainly not have come to such excesses of accumulated hatred—and I admit—to such baseness that makes me feel ashamed to this day.
This experience goes to show that by living in a form of at-first imperceptible ethical unconsciousness, by allowing oneself to yield to at-first seemingly harmless impulses of the imperious self, the narrator and his ex-wife imperceptibly came to acting in ways they would probably have thought themselves incapable of, only years earlier. The battle against the imperious self must become a daily task, carried out on the small things at first, to later be able to resist when applied to greater trials.
**
Another consequence of the hyperactivity of the imperious self that you notice as soon as you begin to fight against it is that when you chase it out the door it slips back in through the window in another form. This technique is often used by the imperious self, every time we consciously accomplish an ethical deed. As the imperious self is forced to retreat on one front, it immediately counterattacks from another direction.
I do an altruistic deed and try my best to help someone out of a jam. I mentally go over the experience later and congratulate myself for the extraordinary goodness of my heart; or I can’t tell everyone quickly enough what I have accomplished; or I begin to have expectations—because I have helped someone, I expect a favour in return. When the imperious self is defeated in the battle against selfishness, it comes back at you in the form of self-importance, boastfulness or entitlement.
I tend to be a bit stingy, and I’m trying to work on that. To improve, I decided to treat my friends whenever we go to a café. This time, they ordered some really expensive cocktails. Because I made it my practice to pay, I pay. But I make a point for the bill to “happen to be” in sight so my friends see how generous I am. Although it is defeated in one respect, the imperious self manages to worm its way back into my deed of generosity and taint it with an implicit reproach: “see how much I am spending on you!”
**
At work, there is a “difficult” colleague who doesn’t get along with anyone. After a bumpy start, I managed at considerable expense to refrain from lashing out at him. I have even developed a sense of understanding and compassion towards him, which helps me see him in a better light. I have also decided to refrain from participating in the many opportunities to speak ill of him. It was a real effort at first, but I realized it helped a lot to keep my negative feelings in check. As a consequence, I expected the others to also do as I do, i.e., to stop backbiting and to foster a positive attitude. I thought it was stupid of them to keep hounding this poor colleague instead of seeing him as he really was—someone tormented who needed a bit of understanding. Defeated in the domain of backbiting, anger and the lack of understanding, the imperious self returned in the form of pride, being judgmental, and entertaining a dogmatic clear conscience.
When you have explicitly decided to follow a spiritual path, the imperious self manifests itself further in a very specific manner, by fostering in you a sense of spiritual superiority.
**
I used to get violently angry at my teenage children, but I am better now at controlling my outbursts. Over a long period of time, I did an in-depth self-analysis that enabled me to find the source of my anger—social pride. I became angry because I implicitly felt that I was an exceptional mother whose children had to be exceptional so I could be perceived by other parents as superior. I therefore felt personally offended, and even humiliated, whenever my children made the slightest mistake or got an average grade. I have since done considerable work to accept myself and my children as we are—I am a mother just like any other and they are children just like others, neither inferior nor superior. I have also thought a lot about gratitude and worked a lot on feeling content with the blessings I have already received from God; I have managed to renounce that form of greed that pushed me to always want more so as to establish my superiority. After all, why should the opinion of others mean anything to me? Isn’t doing one’s duty and obtaining divine contentment what really matters? This work on myself has progressively but effectively helped me soothe my need to be seen as superior and therefore enabled me to somewhat control my imperious self on this point.
Today, I was at a friend’s house, and I saw her get violently angry at her teenage son. However painful the scene was, it felt in reality strangely pleasant: “Look at that poor mother jousting with her son. She hasn’t yet moved on from that. Unlike me, she hasn’t yet understood. Not everyone has my spiritual maturity”…
Of course, it is once again the imperious self speaking here—or rather inspiring[1] me with these feelings. I thought I had defeated it, but it was still there, and it took advantage of the situation to reappear. It even transformed its prior failure into success—I thought I had defeated it by working on not feeling superior to others and there it was, using my own efforts as a weapon against me, as a new source of pride, not social pride this time, but spiritual pride, making me feel contempt toward my friend. The imperious self is always there, it never renounces, and we can never get rid of it. It’s the very reason for our existence on earth—to ward off its attacks in order to come to progressively know ourselves.
The imperious self resembles the state of a pickpocket who is always lying in prey. It’s similar to when we go shopping in a crowded market: one part of our mind is shopping, the other part is on guarding against pickpockets. We have to be dual-minded; we can’t be single-minded. Our mind has to be with both the soul and the imperious self, which stays with the soul until the last breath.
Leili Anvar, Malak Jan Nemati “Life isn’t short, but time is limited”, Arpeggio Press, 2012, p. 124.
[1] It goes without saying that when we are having this sort of experience we do not actually “say” things in such an obvious and blunt manner. The imperious self triggers emotions in us whose illegitimate nature is much less perceptible while they are unfolding. If we make the effort however to describe our emotions, their anti-ethical nature often appears much clearer as is the case in the recounting of these experiences.
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This article is such an insightful deep dive into the imperious self! It really highlights how tricky and persistent it can be, constantly finding new ways to take over our thoughts and actions. I especially related to the idea that even when we think we’ve conquered certain impulses, they can resurface in different, sometimes even more subtle, ways. The examples were eye-opening, and the honesty in sharing personal experiences made it all the more relatable.
I want to share my experience of struggling with my imperious self, especially when it came to my children. I always believed they should be treated as special because of their background, education, and accomplishments. I expected them to follow ethical principles, shaped by the kind of mother I was. However, looking back, I realize that my expectations were often driven by my own sense of pride and the need to see them as exceptional—not just for their sake, but for how it reflected on me.
Without realizing it, I let my imperious self take control. I became overly sensitive to how others perceived my children, believing they should always meet high standards. I saw their mistakes as personal failures, which led me to react emotionally rather than rationally. If I had been more self-aware, if I had focused on guiding them with patience rather than control, I could have fostered a healthier dynamic.
This experience has taught me that the imperious self can disguise itself as love, protection, or even ethical responsibility, when in reality, it feeds on pride and control. True growth comes from recognizing these patterns, letting go of unnecessary expectations, and embracing humility in both parenting and personal development.
I have a flaw which is that I often point out what is wrong. For example, I may come back from a work trip and the first thing I will say is that my daughter’s room is messy, that my son and daughter never wear slippers which forces us to wash socks by hand (with soap) etc.
My wife has pointed this out to me dozens of times: “Try to say 5 positive things and 1 negative thing. Only after you have made the 5 positive observations highlight what needs to be improved.” (I could argue that children make no effort to change anything since they were born, but that would take me to a whole other discussion.)
Despite my attempts to follow my wife’s advice, I continue to fall into this trap. Recently, returning after a week of traveling, I said that the children’s shoes were not put away at the entrance to our apartment. I made this remark as I was walking into our home, without even having entered the apartment and without even having greeted the children and my wife. My wife (who is anger prone) exploded because over time she has become allergic to my negative comments.
I struggled a bit with my imperious self to hold back my anger because I found her reaction disproportionate. After all, my comment was completely devoid of any negative emotion. I had only pointed out a problem. It could have been a water leak in a tap or something else… (This was not false, but it was without taking into account my other hundreds/thousands of comments made in recent years and therefore the perception that others have of my behavior)
Despite this initial struggle with my anger, the imperious self attacked me through wounded pride and I began to sulk at my wife. I told myself that I didn’t want to be too close to such an anger-prone person, and I began to avoid her and limit my interactions with her. After 48 hours I came across the following words (from the site “OstadElahi-Inpractice.com”): “My fondest memories in life solely relate to circumstances in which I chose to forgive and even respond with kindness to those who had done me harm and whom I had the opportunity to crush. They are among my sweetest memories.” and that’s when I understood my mistake.