The personality is a set of conditioned behaviours of which we are mostly unaware. If you doubt this wear your watch on your opposing wrist for a week. These behaviours make us utterly predictable to those who know us best. ‘Here we go again,’ they think or say. Which is why we need to live in community—to be reminded now and then that we are robots. We need the personality in the same way a chick needs its shell—as an adolescent protection, only useful for as long as it takes to peck our way out of it.
We cannot renovate the mask-like fear-based personality. The most we can do with this fragile shell of a self is step out of it, as chicks do after a period of assiduous pecking.
We are mostly unaware of the fact that we have ideas about ourselves, and that these concepts are entirely memory-based, and that they comprise a mnemonic veil through which we view the world.
What we call personality is actually a protective device that begins to develop around the age of 18 months as a response to the sobering realization that the world of form is not the technicolour equivalent of our mother’s womb.