I mean, really. I just caught myself in the reflection of my own appearance and I'm like, walking, talking, moving, reacting, speaking, thinking, moving, distracting, avoiding, perverting, grasping, presuming and commenting on every thought in my brain. And that was just in one split second of a moment.
If we can just step back for a moment, detach from our own appearance just ever-so-slightly and look at ourselves--its pretty funny. Last night my foot hurt. I've developed a callous from running. I looked at the callous, fingered it, felt some pain--then put my shoe back on and ignored it.
Because even though I know from direct experience its just skin and the moment I wear it down with a pumice stone it'll stop irritating me--there was this moment after I perceived it, just this little itsy-bitsy moment where I formed the thought "that callous is part of me--I could be in pain if I remove it".
Despite the fact I've ground away these suckers before, and I know it won't cause me pain, know in fact that the way to stop the pain (as I've personally and directly experienced myself) is to simply remove the callous--I cooked up the thought that some solid part of me was being threatened and in response to the threat, the callous is still there.
And that's exactly what I do with my thoughts. I don't even not see them as part of me--that's too discriminating, too courageous. I simply create my identity with the thought as it simultaneously forms/arises/appears. Which really, is more economic. You cut out the middle man so to speak, which is objectivity/space--you just go directly from appearance to identification. My foot hurts/I am my foot.
This student once went looking for his teacher--when he arrived at their typical meeting place he found a note "Gone to the freak show". Well, I guess in 10th c. India there wasn't a freak show around every corner, so this student was like totally WTF? He searches all over, finally makes his way to town.
In to the main market area--bustling with activity--people selling, living, dying, stealing, arguing, loving--and he sees his teacher, sitting down just watching all of this frenzy and action going down.
The teacher's just sitting there, frog on a log. Not doing a damn thing. And the student gets it *lightbulb*. This is the freaskshow. This is the circus, the carnival. We all paint ourselves up with this mask of presumed identity and then go running around reacting to everyone else's mask.
Voltaire said "Life is a drama for those who feel, a comedy for those who think". Most of the hardcore, real deal teachers I've ever encountered have at some point absolutely just stunned me at their instantaneous ability to convulse with laughter in the midst of what I perceive to be well, drama.
Once spent a week with this very revered, elderly Tibetan lama. Very serious stuff. First night, at dinner--he goes around the table asks everyone where they're from. You know, getting to know us. With every response he beams, nods in gentle understanding, repeats the person's cherished home "Oh, Mic-hi-gan?". Very grandfatherly, clipped Tib-English pronunciation.
I'm sucking it up. Loving this Lama. To me he's the Burl Ives of Lamas. I just want to curl up with him and watch that "Rudolph The Red Nose Reindeer" special and just be cuddled by this kindly little old soul. He gets to me, I reverently whisper "Californi..." don't even finish the sentence he laughs out loud, like hysterically "Mickey Mouse!".
Everyone stops, he stands up, points at me and still, laughing his ass off shouts "Mickey Mouse!". Well, ain't I suddenly the most popular guy to humiliate at the table. Of course, everyone cracks up and now the whole table like, ten people are pointing and laughing, "Mickey Mouse!". And everyone is having this total moment with Burl Ives lama, but me.
I'm of course, smiling playing the whole thing off like "Oh, I get it...California, Disneyland--Mickey Mouse". But inside I'm like "Are you fcuking kidding me? Dude, we were gonna rent the Rudolph special together?! Hang out, cry when Rudolph's nose won't light...". I'm dying. But you know, to him my drama was his comedy.
Oh and it goes on. I'll give you the cliff's notes, but the next acts of the comedy were Act 2: Dana awakens in the middle of the night to discover everyone's shoes have been laced together then tied to his arm while he was asleep in the hopes that he'd move his arm and drop twenty pairs of shoes on his head. Act 3: The day we depart, the entire staff receives the most loving blessing from Burl Ives Lama who promptly turns to me and head butts me. Not head butt like, oh here's the traditional Tibetan greeting with a little extra oomph, head butts me like he's an English soccer player for Manchester United after like, twenty pints of Guinness.
So anyway, for what its worth--if you happen to catch your own reflection in the mirror--any mirror and for just a split second you have that odd feeling like your watching some television show and you spaced out and when you came back you felt like even though you just missed part of the show it didn't really matter because what-the-hell-is-this-about-anyway-and-why-am-I-watching-it?
Well, either turn the volume way up so you don't notice you're spacing out anymore or get ready for some sleepless nights. 'Cuz once you start questioning what's really going on around you...well, things take a turn for the interesting.
