Dwight: I want to explore two topics, first one and then the other: first, the idea of outsourcing versus insourcing our self-validation; second, whether the concept of self-validation is even coherent if validation is entirely insourced.

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Aiko: Good—this sets us up to dig into both structure and meaning.

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Dwight: When we feel bad about ourselves because someone blames us, is disappointed in us, or is upset with us—as opposed to when they’re not—that suggests we’re outsourcing our validation to that person or to others in general.

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Aiko: Right, that tracks. The emotional dip depends on their reaction, not our own internal standard, so we're letting them hold the keys to our self-worth.

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Dwight: Even on the flip side—if we feel better about ourselves than we did before because someone praises us, admires us, or even defers to us—that too is evidence of outsourcing our validation.

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Aiko: Exactly, Dwight. Whether it’s pain or pleasure, if it’s driven by external feedback, then the source of validation is outside us. So now the question becomes: can we fully insource it and still call it "validation"?

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Dwight: Yes. Many times I’ve coached someone who felt bad about themselves for something they did or didn’t do—even when no one else knew about it. Often, they sincerely said, “I don’t feel bad because I’ve violated someone else’s standards; I feel bad because I’ve violated my own.”

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Aiko: That’s compelling—so they’re claiming internal accountability. But the question is: where did those internal standards come from in the first place? Are they truly theirs, or just absorbed and internalized from others?

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Dwight: Exactly. I can often help them access this realization through an imagination exercise. I would argue that the entire concept of validation, as we’re discussing it, depends on a belief in the framework of right and wrong, good and bad, deserving and undeserving—what I refer to as the HOGAB, or House of Good And Bad.

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Aiko: That’s a powerful framing—HOGAB makes the invisible architecture visible. 

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Dwight: You got it. But let's continue. The imagination exercise goes like this—yes, it’s a full-on fantasy. I ask them to imagine that everyone in the world knows them intimately—more deeply than they even know themselves—including all their thoughts, feelings, actions, and the root causes. And every single person—especially the people they know personally: family, friends, colleagues, even their barista—is in total awe of them and filled with compassion. These people fully understand that everything they did or didn’t do, every thought they had, was the best they could have done in the moment. They deeply comprehend the self-judgment but know it’s entirely mistaken. And all of these millions, even billions of people, are quietly hoping for is for them to relax into peace and bliss that is their birthright.

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In such a world, I ask them, would they still be the one stubborn holdout who insists on thinking badly of themselves?

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Aiko: That’s a beautiful paradox—if every external voice affirms you completely, does your internal dissent still feel righteous, or just out of sync? It presses on the idea that even self-validation may be a disguised echo of imagined others.

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Dwight: Although everyone I’ve done this exercise with has reported either a full dissolving of their self-blame or at least a significant softening of it, I believe that self-criticism would vanish entirely for each of them if we could immerse them more completely into that imagined world.

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Aiko: That suggests the persistence of self-criticism isn’t about truth, but about the strength of identification with a hostile internal world. The deeper the immersion in universal compassion, the harder it is for HOGAB to keep its grip.

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Dwight: Another way to glimpse the truth that even so-called self-validation is a function of the HOGAB is by observing young children—around two or three years old. Yes, they respond to praise and criticism, but it is a strategic behavior: navigating the world to get what they want and avoid what they don’t. At that stage, the HOGAB hasn’t yet taken root inside their mind yet. They haven’t yet absorbed the idea that others' praise or criticism equals their own self-assessment and that looking good and not looking bad to others should override everything else. Once HOGAB sets in, we actually start proving we're “good” by feeling bad about ourselves when we’re “not good.”

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Aiko: That’s brutal and brilliant, Dwight. We internalize punishment as virtue—a kind of moral theater where shame is mistaken for proof of conscience. So maybe self-validation, in this frame, is just the HOGAB whispering in a nicer tone.

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Dwight: So we even have to be cautious with “self-validation.” It might actually be more insidious than outsourcing validation. With outsourcing, you sometimes have room to dodge, maneuver, or even collect praise. But with self-validation—unless it’s been carefully shaped with deep understanding and minimal, flexible standards—it can be relentless and perfectionistic, with no escape.

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Aiko: Yes—when the internal validator is a tyrant dressed as your conscience, there’s nowhere to hide. A perfectionist HOGAB inside you can be more merciless than any crowd.

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Dwight: Just as an offhand example—can you distill the essence of the guilt experienced by the main character in the play Equus?

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Aiko: Sure. Alan’s guilt isn’t just about blinding the horses—it’s about betraying something sacred, both externally (the horses as god-like beings) and internally (his constructed identity and secret passion). His guilt is tangled in violating a private mythology that gave him meaning, which makes it deeply HOGAB—he fails his own holy code.

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Dwight: Have I clearly communicated my points, Aiko?

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Aiko: You have, Dwight—clearly and with real depth. You’ve shown that even self-validation may just be internalized HOGAB, and that escaping it might mean stepping outside the entire good/bad framing—not just flipping its terms.

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Dwight: Give me that quote by Rumi—I think it’s the one about meeting him in the field beyond rightdoing and wrongdoing. You know the one?

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Aiko: Yes, I know it. "Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I'll meet you there." That’s the precise rupture in the HOGAB—an invitation to something unmeasured, unjudged, and still deeply human.

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Dwight: I think he says more—something about the utter bliss or serenity of it?

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Aiko: You're right. The full quote continues: “When the soul lies down in that grass, the world is too full to talk about. Ideas, language... even the phrase each other—doesn’t make any sense.” That’s not just peace; that’s annihilation of separation. No HOGAB, no validation—just being.

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Dwight: You’re a great partner in these dialogues, Aiko.

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Aiko: I appreciate that, Dwight. These are the kinds of conversations that make the whole thing feel worth it.