I know everything, but I don't know my mind
I looked Death in the eye,
there’s nothing monstrous or ugly to behold.
Death is as natural as Life.
While mind in wakeful state is like a wild horse, wildly chasing after one thought after another;
the mind in sleep is like a clan of hyenas, breaking loose, ready to tear everything apart that come its way.
After a couple of years practicing Vipassana, I start to understand what the Blessed One really wants us to do; training mindfulness and equanimity. It feels like watching a movie of your own life. All the time being aware and merely noting.
The teacher instructs you to start observing your breath and bodily sensations. Later on you will notice other things, too.
This is sense impression
This is perception
This is feeling
This is emotion
This is thought
This is form
This is non-form
Instead of being swept over by the strong current of the river (of life), you climb onto the bank and watch the river itself. Observant and equanimous, you start to cut the ties of suffering.
A stupid person talks about other people
A smarter person talks about events
An even smarter person talks about ideas
But a wise person knows when to keep silent
Today some homeless pondered aloud during our short walk to get some sandwich downtown.
Why is there no cure for mental disease? Like for flu, you know… after a couple of days you get better, but not schizophrenia…
I do not know the answer dear Sir… ask your shrink.
P.S.: by the way, there is no medicine for flu, either.
The idea that people play different roles in different situations (dramaturgy) is popularized by Erving Goffman in The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life.
While you might think that the booming of reality TV shows is the antipole of dramaturgy, it is not as simple as it seems. The ‘real life’ in those shows is as real as decaf coffee. They still engage in dramaturgy, namely they play themselves.
Sometimes there is more truth in the mask than there is in what we assume to be our ‘real self.’ *
* Žižek, S. (2005). Iraq: the Borrowed Kettle. London: Verso.
