There are things that people often tell me, as if they are the first ones to share this secret with me, without realising that everyone else has said the exact thing to me as well. it is fairly amusing and it is some variation of, "Have I met you before? You are EXACTLY like this other person I knew." I don't even know what to make of it - is it a good thing? a bad thing? does it mean anything? Maybe I should get curious about these doppelgänger-s*. Anyway, then when they get to know me a bit more they'll tell me, "You THINK a lot" - like I didn't realise that? like they took this long to figure that out? like they were the first ones to get that?
So, the thing is, I DO think a lot - I see things and then I think that placing a value on them is internal to me, that I can choose to place high or low value on them - and thus, I can choose, whether or not a thing can affect me or not. (This is important because without this the world, not I, will determine whether I will enjoy or suffer) I am, to a certain degree, always having an out of body experience, till I hurt myself - physically or emotionally, and then some part of me screams out in pain and hurt, and I FEEL IT, and it is awe inspiring - the sheer reality of it that you tend to forget when you read Vedanta or John Steinbeck talking about how he is happy to write and went without food for 4 days or watch movies like Inception.
I am wondering about all the things that make little sense, Vedanta sweetly calls them Vasanas, that are like these things that are endlessly trying to get expressed - that keep toppling the apple cart, so that a situation that should be picture perfect doesn't feel picture perfect; because other things have assumed a high value by themselves and just wait for me to recognise them.
To see things for what they are, to call each thing by it's true name. Here is a lovely writing by Helen Keller when she recognises that each thing has a name, "http://www.afb.org/mylife/book.asp?ch=P1Ch4"
*but here is the clincher, I did once see myself crossing the street in Melbourne, from the other side - except it wasn't me, of course I was on this side - but there was this person crossing the street and I stared at her because she looked like she was I.
PS: I am starting to bore myself, except for the strange experience of doppelgangers, and the awesome writings of Helen Keller, I am just being boring.
So, the thing is, I DO think a lot - I see things and then I think that placing a value on them is internal to me, that I can choose to place high or low value on them - and thus, I can choose, whether or not a thing can affect me or not. (This is important because without this the world, not I, will determine whether I will enjoy or suffer) I am, to a certain degree, always having an out of body experience, till I hurt myself - physically or emotionally, and then some part of me screams out in pain and hurt, and I FEEL IT, and it is awe inspiring - the sheer reality of it that you tend to forget when you read Vedanta or John Steinbeck talking about how he is happy to write and went without food for 4 days or watch movies like Inception.
I am wondering about all the things that make little sense, Vedanta sweetly calls them Vasanas, that are like these things that are endlessly trying to get expressed - that keep toppling the apple cart, so that a situation that should be picture perfect doesn't feel picture perfect; because other things have assumed a high value by themselves and just wait for me to recognise them.
To see things for what they are, to call each thing by it's true name. Here is a lovely writing by Helen Keller when she recognises that each thing has a name, "http://www.afb.org/mylife/book.asp?ch=P1Ch4"
*but here is the clincher, I did once see myself crossing the street in Melbourne, from the other side - except it wasn't me, of course I was on this side - but there was this person crossing the street and I stared at her because she looked like she was I.
PS: I am starting to bore myself, except for the strange experience of doppelgangers, and the awesome writings of Helen Keller, I am just being boring.
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