They also indicatc that this vision is a rcstoration of  
something which we once had, and "losl" becausc we  
did not or could  not appreciate  it. This  vision  is, 
then, the unclouded awareness of this undefinable  
"something" which we call life, present reality, the  
great stream, che eternal now -an awareness without  
the sense  of separation  from  it. The  momenl  I name  it, it is no longer  God;  it is 
man, tree, green, black, red, soft, hard, long, short,  
atom, univcrse. Onc would  rcadily agrec  with  any 
theologian  who  deplores  panthcism  that  these  deni - 
53 THE  WISDOM  OF INSECURITY  
zens of the world of verbiage and convention, these  
sundry "things" conceived as fixed and distinct en - 
titics, are not God. If you ask me to show you God, I  
will point to thc sun, ora cree, ora worm. But if you  
say, "You mean, then, that God is the sun, the tree,  
the worm, and all other things?" -I shall have to say 
that  you have  missed  the point  entirely. 54  
 
IV. T H E  W I S D O M  OF  T H E   B O D Y   
 
WHAT  IS EXPER!ENCE? WHAT  IS L!FE? WHAT  !S MOT!ON? What is reality? To ali such questions we must give  
St. Augustine's answer to the quescion,  "What  is 
time?" -"! knmv, but whcn you ask me I don't." Ex - 
perience, life, motion, and reality are so many noises  
used to symbolize the sum of sensations,  llioughts,  
feelings, and dcsires. And if you ask, "What are sensa - 
tions,  et cerera?" 1 can only   answcr,   "Don \  be  silly. You know very well what they are. We can't go on  
defining things indefinitely without going round in  
circles. To define means to fix, and, whcn you get  
clown  tO it, real li fe isn 'l fixecl." lt was suggestcd at the end of the last chapter that  
this ultimate somcthing which cannot be dcfined or 
fixed can be represented by the word God. If chis be 
true, we know Gocl all Lhe time -but when wc begin  
to think about it we don't. For whcn we begin to  
think about experience we try to fix it in rigid forros  
and ideas. lt  is the old problem of trying to tie up 
water in parcels, or attcmpting to shut the win<l in a 
box. Yct it has always  becn  taught  in rcligion  that  
·'God" is somcthing from which one can expcct wis - 
dom and guidance. vVe have become accustomed to 
thc idea  that wisdom -that is, knowledge,  a<lvice,  and 
55 THE  WISDOM  OF INSECURITY  
information -can be expressed in verbal 
statements  consisting of specific directions. If 
chis be true, it is hard to sec how any wisdom can 
be extracted from  something  impossible  to 
define. Bue  in fact the kind  of wisdom  which  can be 
pul in the form  of specific  directions  amounts  
to very  little,  and most  of the wisdom  which  we 
employ  in everyday life never carne to us as 
verbal informalion. lt was  not through  
statements  that  we learned  how  lO brealhc,  
swallow,  sec, circula  te the blood,  digest  food,  or 
rcsist  diseascs. Yet thcse  things  are performed  by 
the mosl  complex  ancl  marvelous  processcs  which  
no amount  of book -learning  ancl  technical  skill  
can reproduce. This is real wisdom -buc our 
brains have  little to do with it. This is the kind of 
wisdom which  we need  in solving the real,  
practica! problems  of human  lifc. Il has done  
wonders  for us already,  and therc  is no rcason  
why  it should  not do much  more. Without any  
rechnical  apparatus or  calculations  for 
prediction, homing -pigeons  can rcturn  to thcir  
roosts  from  long  distances  away,  migrant  birds  
can revisit  che same  locations  year after  year,  
and plants  can "devise"  wonderful  comraptions  
for distribttting  thcir  seeds  on the wind. They  do 
not,  of course,  do these  things  ''on purpose,"  
which  is only  to say that  thcy  do nol plan  and  
think  them  out. lf they  could  talk,  they  could  
no more  explain  how  it is done  than  the 
average  man  can explain  how  his heart  
beats. THE  WISDOM  OF THE  BODY  
The "instruments" which achieve these feáts 
are, indeed, organs and processes of lhe body -
lhat is to  say, of a myslerious pattern of 
movement which we  do not really unclerstand 
and cannot actually define. In general, however, 
human beings have ceased to  develop the 
instruments of the body. More ancl more  we try to 
effect an adaptation to life by means of ex• tema! gadgets, and attempt to solve our problems by  
conscious thinking ralher than unconscious 
"know - how." This is much less to our 
advantage than we like to suppose. There are, for instance, "primitive" women 
who  can deliver thcmsclves of a child while 
working out  in the fields, and, after doing the few 
things necessary  to see that the baby is safe, 
warm, and comfortable,  resume  their  work  as 
before. On the other  hand,  the civilized woman 
has to be moved to a complicated  hospital, and 
lhere, surrounded by doclors, nurses,  and 
innumerable gaclgets, force the poor lhing into  
the world with prolonged contortions and 
excruciat - ing pains. It is true that antiseptic 
conditions pre- vent rnany  mothers and babies 
from dying, but why  can 't we have  the antiseptic  
conditions and the nat- ural,  easy  way  of birth? The answer to lhis, and many similar 
queslions, is  that we have been taughl to 
neglcct, despise, and  violate our bodies, and lO 
put all faith  in our brains. Indeed, the special 
discase of civilized man might be  described  as a 
block  or schism  belween  his brain  (spe - 
57 THE  WISDOM  OF INSECURJTY  
cifically, the cortex) and the rest of his body. This  
corrcsponds to lhe split bctwecn "l" and "me," man  
and naturc, and to the confusion of Ouroboros, the 
mixed -up snake,  who <loes nol know thal his tail  
belongs with his head. Happily, lhcrc havc, in recenl  
years, been al lcast lwo scientists who have callcd at - 
tencion to this schism, namely Lancelot Law Whyte  
and Trigant  Burrow. 1 Whytc  calls  this disease  the 
"European dissociation," not because it is peculiar to  
Europcan -Amcrican  civilizalion,  bul because it  is 
specially  charactcristic  of it. BOlh Whyte and Burrow have givcn a clinical de- 
scriplion or diagnosis of thc schism, lhe details of  
which necd not detain us herc. ll is simply saying in 
"medica!'' Janguagc that we have allowed brain think - 
ing to develop and dominate our lives out of ali pro - 
ponion to "instinctual ,visclom," which wc are allow - 
ing to slump  imo alrophy. As a conscquence,  we are  
al war wilhin ourselvcs -thc brain dcsiring lhings  
which the body docs not want, and the body desiring  
lhings which the brain clacs not allow; the brain giv- 
ing directions  which  the body  will not follow,  and  
1Of L.  L. \Vhy1c's  books,  The Ncxt  Deut:lopmcnt  in  Man  
(Henry 1 -1011, Ncw York, 19.13) i quite rcadablc and dccply  in1cr - 
c11ing. whilc '/'he U11itnry l'rinriplc in Phy sics nnd Diology (1 lcnry  l-
loll. Ncw York, 19,19) is s1ric1.ly for 1hc sci<:ntific rcadcr. Burrow's  
Socio/ IJn.sis of C1mscio11sness  (London,  1927) and Tite Structure  
of lnsanity  (Londou,  19, 2)  are  unhappily out of print, bu1  mos1  
oí 1hc material is containcd in his Neurosis of Man (Routledge,  
London, 19,¡8). Thcre are prob bly  01her scicntis1s "·orking on the 
same  li11cs,  hui I :un not awarc  of thcm. THE  WISDOM  OF THE  BODY  
the body giving impulses which the brain cannot 
un- derstand. In one way or another civilizcd  man  agrees 
with  St. Francis  in thinking of the body as 
Brother Ass. But even theologians have 
rccognizeci that the source  of evil and stupidity 
lies not in the physical organism  as a whole, but in 
the cut -off, dissociated brain which  they  term  the 
"will." 'When we compare human with animal desire 
we find  many  extraordinary  differences. The  
animal  tends to cat with his sLOmach, and the 
man with his  brain. Whcn the animal's sLOmach is 
full, he stops  eating, but the man is never sure 
whcn to stop. When  he has eaten as much as his 
belly can  cake, he still  feels empty, he still fecls an 
urge for further gratifica - tion. This is largely 
dueto anxicty, to the knowledge  that a constant 
supply of food  is uncenain. There - fore eat as 
much as you can whilc you can. lt is due,  also,  to 
the knowlcdgc  that,  in an insecure world,  pleasure  
is uncertain. Therefore  the immcdiate  pleasure of 
eating must be cxploited to  the full, even  though  it 
<loes  violence  to the digestion. Human desirc tencls to be insatiable. We are so 
anxious for pleasurc that wc can ncvcr get enough 
of it. Vi/e stimulate our scnse organs until thcy 
bccome  insensitive,  so that  if pleasure  is to 
continue  they  must have stronger anc.l stronger 
stimulants. In self - defense  the body  gets  ill from  
the strain,  but the brain  wants  to go on and on. The  brain  is in pursuit  
59 THE  WISDOM  OF INSECURITY  
of happiness, and because the brain is much more  
concerned about che futurc than the present, it 
con- ceives happiness as the guaramee of an  
indefinitely  long future of pleasures. Yct the brain  
also  knows  that il does not have an indefinitely 
long future, so that, to be happy, it must try Lo 
crowd ali the pleas - ures of Paradise and eternity 
into thc span of a few  ycars. This is why modern civilization is in almost 
every  respect  a vicious circle. lt is insatiabl y 
hungry  be- cause its way of life condemns it 
LOperpetuar frustra - cion. As we have secn, che 
root of this frustration is that we live for Lhc 
future, and the future is an ab- straction, a rational 
inference from experience, which  exists only for 
thc brain. The "primary conscious - ness," thc 
basic mind which knows reality rather than  ideas 
about it, does not know che futurc. lt lives com•  
plctcly  in the prcsent, and  perccivcs  nothing more  
than what is at this momcnt. Thc ingcnious brain,  
howcver,  look s at thaL  part  o[ present  experience  
called memory, and by studying it is able to  make  
predicLions. Thesc predictions are, relatively, so 
ac- curate  and rcliablc  (e.g.,  "cvcryone  will die")  
that  the future assumes a high clcgrce  of reality -so 
high  that  che prcsenL  loses  its value. But thc future  is still not here,  and cannot  
become  
a part  of experienced  realiLy  until  it is present. Since  what  we know  of the future  is made  up of 
pun:ly  .1bsLract  .ind logi<.al  clcmcnts -
inferences,  
60 THE  WJSDOM  OF THE  SODY  
guesses, deductions -it cannot be eaten, felt, 
smelled,  seen, heard, or ochenvise enjoyed. To 
pursuc it is to  pursuc a conslantly retreating 
phantom,  and  thc faster you chasc it, thc  faster 
it runs ahcad. This is  why all the affairs of 
civilization are rushcd, why  hardly anyone 
enjoys what he has, and is forever  seeking more 
and more. Happincss, then, will con - sist, not of 
solid and substantial realities, but of such  
abstract and superficial things as promises, 
hopes,  and assurances. Thus thc  "brainy"  economy  desi gn ed to  produce  
this happiness is a fantastic vicious circlc which 
must  either manufacture more and more 
pleasures or col - lapse -providing a constant  
titillation  of the ears,  eyes, and nerve ends with 
incessant streams of almost  inescapablc noise and 
visual distractions. The per - fect "subject" for 
the aims of this economy is the  person who 
continuously itches his ears with thc  radio, 
preferably using the ponable kind which can  go 
with him at all hours and in all places. His cyes  
Ait without rcst from television scrcen, to 
newspaper,  to magazine, keeping him in a son of 
orgasm -with - out-release through a series of 
teasing glimpse s of  shiny automobiles, shiny 
female bodies, ancl other  sensuous surfaces, 
interspersed wilh such restorers of sensitivity -
shock  trcacments -as "human  intcrest'"  shots of 
criminals, mangled  bodies, wrecked air- planes, 
prize fights, and burning buildings. The lit - 
erature or discourse  that goes  along  with  this is 
sim- 
61 THE  WJSDOM  OF INSECURITY  
ilarly  manufactured  to tease without satisfaction,  
to replace  every  partía! gratification  with  a new  
desire. For this stream  of stimulants  is designed  
to pro- duce cravings for more and more of the 
same, though  loudcr  and faster,  and thesc  
cravings  drive  us to do work  which  is of no 
intercst  save  Cor thc moncy  it pays -to buy more 
lavish  radios,  sleeker  automobiles,  glossier  
magazines,  and bctter  television  sets,  ali of 
which  will somehow  conspire  to persuade  us that  
happiness  lies just arouncl  the comer  if we will 
buy 
one more. Despite the immense hubbub and ncrvous 
strain,  wc are convinccd  that  sleep  is a waste  of 
valuable  time and concinue to chase  chese 
fantasies far into  thc night. Animals spend much of 
their time dozing  and iclling  pleasantly,  but, 
bccause  lifc is short,  human beings muse cram 
into the years the highest  possiblc  amount  of 
consciousness,  alcrcness,  and chronic insomnia so 
as to be sure not to miss che last fragmenc  of 
srartling  pleasure. le isn't that the people who submit to chis kind 
of thing are immoral. It isn't that the people who 
pro- vide it are wicked exploitcrs; mos t of them 
are of the  same mind as thc exploited, if only on a 
more expen - sive horse in chis sorry -go-round. The real trouble is  chat they are ali cotally 
frustrated, for trying to please  che brain is like 
trying to drink through your ears. Thus  they  are 
increasingly  incapable  of real  plcasure,  
62 THE  WISUOM  OF THE  BODY  
insensitive to the most acute and subtle joys of 
life which  are in fact excremely  common  and 
simple. The vague, ncbulous, and insatiable character 
of brainy desire makes it particularly hard to 
come  clown to eanh -to be material and real. Generally  speaking, the civilized man <loes not 
know what he  wants. He works  for success,  fame,  a 
happy  marriage,  fun, to help other pcople, or to 
be a "real person." But thcse are not real wants 
because they are not ac - tual things. They  are the 
by-products,  the flavors  an d atmosphcres of real 
things -shadows which havc no existence apart 
frorn  some substance. Money is the  perfect  
symbol  of ali such  desires,  being  a mere  s y m- bol of 
real wealth, and to make it one's goal is thc 
most blatant example of confusing 
measurcments  with  reality. lt is thcrcforc  far (rom  correct  10 say that modern  
civilization  is materialistic,  that  is, i( a 
materialist  is 
a person  who  loves  matter. The  brainy  modern  
loves  not matter but measures, no solids but 
surfaces. He  drinks for the percentage of alcohol 
("spirit") and not for the "body" and taste of the 
liquid. He builds  to put up an impressive  " front" 
rather  than  to pro- vide  a spacc  for living. Thercfore  he tends  to put up structures which 
appear from the outside to be ba - ronial 
mansions but are inwardly warrens. Thc in - 
dividual living -units in these wanens are 
designed  less  for living  as for creating  an 
impression. The  THE  WISDOM  OF INSECURITY  
main space is devoted to a "living room" of 
propor - tions suitablc  to a large house, while such 
essential  spaccs  for living  (rather  than  mere  
"entertaining'')  as the kitchcn are reduced to small 
closets where one can hardly  move -much  less 
cook. Consequently  these  wretchcd  little  galleys  
provide  fare  which  is chieAy  gaseous -cocktails  
and "appetizers"  rather  than honcst meals. Because we ali want to be "ladies  and gentlemen"  
and look as if we  had servants,  we do not soil our 
hands with growing and cooking real  food. Instcad 
we buy products dcsigned for "front"  and 
appe arancc  rathcr  than  content -immensc  and 
tasteless fruit, bread which is little more than a 
light  froth,  wine  faked  with  chemicals,  and 
vegetables  flavored with the arid concoctions of test 
tu bes which  render  them  so much  impressive  
pulp. One might suppose Lhat Lhe most outright 
example  of civilizcd  man's  beastliness  and 
animality  is his passion for sex, but in fact there is 
almost nothing  beastly or animal about it. Animals 
have sexual in - tercourse  when they feel like it, 
which is usually in  sorne  sort  of rhythmic  pattern. Between  whiles  it does not intercst them. But of 
ali pleasures sex is the  one which the civilizcd man 
pursucs with the great - est anxicy. That  the 
craving  is brainy  rather  than  bodily is shown  by 
the common  impotence  of the  male when he 
comes to the act, his brain pursuing  what ·his 
genes do not at  the moment desire. This  confuses  
him  hopelessly,  bccause  he simply  cannot  
64  THE  WISDOM  OF THE  BODY  
understand  not wanting  the great  delicacy  of sex 
when it is available. He has becn hankering after it  
for hours and days on end, but when the realily ap•  
pears  bis body  will not co-operatc. As in eating his "eyes are biggcr than his stomach,"  
so in love he judges woman by standards that are  
largely visual and cerebraÍ ·ráther than sexual and 
visceral. He is attracted to his partner by the surface  
gloss, by the film on the skin rather than  the real  
body. He wants somelhing with abone structure  likc 
a boy's which  is supposed to support  the exterior  
curves and smooth undulations of femininity -not a  
woman but an inflated rubber <lream. The function  
of sex itself remains, however, so much  in che domain  
of "instinctual wisdom" that liule  can be done to in - 
crease its already intense pleasure, to make it faster,  
fancicr, and more frcquent. The only means of ex - 
ploiting it is through cerebral fantasy, through sur - 
rounding it with coquetterie and suggestions of un - 
specified delights to come -as if a more ecstatic em - 
brace could always be arranged through surface al - 
terations. A particularly significant example of brain against  
body, or measures against  matter,  is urban  man's  
total slavcry to clocks. A dock is a convenicnt device  
for arranging to meet a friend, or for helping people  
to do things together, although  things of this kind  
happened  long  befare  they  were  invented. Clocks  
should  not be smashed;  they  should  simply  be kept  
65 THE  WISDOM  OF INSECURITY  
in their  place. And  they are very  much  out of 
place  when  we try to adapt  our biological  
rhyLhms  of eal- ing, sleeping,  evacualion,  
working, and relaxing to their  uniform  circular  
rotation. Our slavery  to thesc  mcchanical  drill  
masters  has gone  so far and our whole  culture  
is so involved  with  it that  reform  is a forlorn 
hope;  without  them civilization  would col- lapse 
entirely. A less brainy culture would learn  to 
synchronize  its body rhythms rather than  its 
clocks. The capacity of the brain to foresee the 
future has  much  to do with  the fear  of death. Onc  knows  of 
many  pcople  who  would  have  said  with  
Slevenson,  
Under the  wide  and  starry  sky 
Dig me a grave  and let me 
líe; 
Glad  did I  live and gladly die,  
And  l laid  me down  with  a 
will. For when thc body is worn out and thc brain is 
tired,  the whole organism welcomes death. But it 
is diffi - cult to understand how death can be 
welcome when  you are young and strong, so that 
you come to regard  itas a dread and lerrible 
event. For the brain, in its immalerial way, looks 
imo Lhe future and conceivcs  it a good  to go on 
and on and  on forever -not realiz - ing that its own  
material woqJd  at last  find  the process 
intolerably tiresome. Not taking this into ac- 
count, the brain fails to see that, being itself 
material  and subject to change, its desires will 
change, and a  time  will come  when  death  will be 
good. On a bright  
66 THE  WISDOM  OF THE  BODY  
morning, afcer a good night's rest, you do noc want 
to go to sleep. But after a hard  day's work  the 
scnsation  of dropping  into  unconsciousness  is 
extraordinarily  pleasant. Unfonunately,  not very  many  of us die peace - 
Eully . We die through accidents and painEul 
diseases,  and il  is cragic indeed  when  a person  
whose  "mind"  is still young  and alert  struggles  
usclessly with  a dy - ing body. J am surc, however, 
that the body dies be - cause it wants to. ll finds it 
beyond  its power to resist  the disease or to mend  
thc injury,  and so, tired  out with the struggle, turns 
to death. If the consciousness  were  more  scnsitive  to 
the feelings  and impulses  of the whole organism,  it 
would  share  this desire,  and,  indeed, sometimes does 
so. We come close  to it when,  in serious sickness, 
we would justas soon die, though  sometimes  wc 
survive,  either  because  medical  treat - ment 
reinvigorates che body, or beca use therc are still  
unconscious forces in the organism which are abl e to 
heal. Accustomed,  as it is, to think  of man  as a 
dualism  
of mind and body, and to regard the former as "sen - 
sible"  and the latter as a "dumb" animal,  our 
culture  is an affront  to the wisdom of nature and a 
ruinous  exploitation of the human  organism  as a 
wholc. Wc are perpetually frustrated because che 
verbal and ab - stract thinking of the  brain  gives  che 
false  impression  of being  able  to cut loose  from  
ali finite  limitations. lt forgets  that  an infinity  of 
anything  is not a reality  
67  THE  WISDOM  OF INSECURITY  
but an abstract concept, and persuades us that we 
de- sire this fantasy  as a real  goal  of living. The externalized symbol of this way of thinking 
is that  almost  entirely  rational  and inorganic  
object,  the rnachine, which gives  us the scnse of 
being able  to approach infinity. For the machine 
can submit to  strains far beyond the capacity of 
the body, and to  monotonous rhythms which the 
human being could  never stand. Useful as it would 
be as a tool anda serv - ant, we worship its 
rationality, its efficiency, and its power to abolish 
limitations of time and space, and thus pcrmit  it to 
regulare our lives. Thus  the work - ing inhabitantS 
of a modern city are people who live inside a 
machine to be batted aroun d by its wheels. They 
spend their days in activities which largely boil  
clown  to counting and  measuring,  living in a 
world  of rationalized abstraction  which  has little  
relation  to or harmony with the great biological 
rhythms and  processes. As a matter of fact,  mental activities of this kind  
can now be done far more efficiently by  machines  
than by men -so much so  that in a not  too distant  
future thc human brain may be an obsolete 
mecha - nism for logical calculation. Already the 
human com - puter  is widely  displaced  by 
mechanical  and elec - trical computers of far 
greater speed and  efficiency. If, then, man's 
principal asset and value is his brain  and his 
ability to calculate, he will become an unsale - able  
commodity  in an era when  the mechanical  op- 
68 Tll.E  WISDOM  OF THE  BODY  
eration of rcasoning can be done more cffectively by 
machincs. 1 
Already man uses innumerable gadgets to displace  
thc work done by bodily organs  in thc animals, and  
it wo11ld surely be in linc  with this tcndcncy to cx - 
ternali1.c  thc reasoning íunctions of the brain -and 
chus han<l over the government  of life  to elcctro - 
magnctic monsters. In other words, thc intereses and  
goals oí rationality are not those of man as a wholc  
organism. I( we are Lo cominue to livc for the future,  
and Lo rnakc thc chie( work o( thc mine! precliction  
ami calculation, man must cvcntually become a para - 
sitie  appcndage  to a mass  of clockwork. Thcre  is, indeed,  a viewpoint  from  which  this 
"rationalization" of Iife is not rational. The brain is  
clcvcr enough Lo scc thc vicious circlc which it has  
madc for itself. llut it can do nothing abom it. Sccing  
that iL is unrcasonaule to \l"OtT)' does not stop worry - 
ing; rathcr,  you worry  thc more  al bcing  unrcason - 
1 I takc my fact, on this maucr  írom  Norbcn  Wicncr·s  rcmark - 
able book  Cy bern etics  (New  York  &: Paris. 19 ¡8). Dr. Wiener  is 
onc of thc mathcm:llicia11s chiefly rcsponsible for thc dcvclopmcnt  
oí the more  elaboratc  clectrical  computcrs. l laving  likcwisc  an 
adva11,ccl knowledgc of 11c11rolo6y,  he i, well :1blc 10 ju<lgc thc 
cxtcnt  10 which  1hc1c  invcntions  c;rn n:produrc  thc work  of thc 
human organi>m. 1lis book contaim thc following pcnincnt ob - 
scrvation: "lt  is intcresting w note th,11 wc m:,y he facing onc of  
those limi1:1tions of nature. in whirh highly spcciali1ed organs  
n:ach :, leve! o[ dcclining cfücicnry. and  ullimatcly lcad  to the  
cxtinc1ion  of che specics. Thc human  brnin   may be  as far along  
on its road to this dcstructivc spcciali1.a1ion  as the great nose  
horns  of thc last of thc litanmhcrc<." (p. 1So.) G9 THE  WJSOOM  OF INSECURITY  
able. It is unreasonable to wage a modern war,  in 
which everybody loses. Neither side actually 
wants a  war, and yet, because we livc in a vicious 
circle, we  start the war to prevent the other side 
from starting  first. We arm ourselves knowing 
that  if we do not,  the other  side  will-which  is 
quite  true,  because  if we do not arm the ocher 
side will do so to gain its  advantage  without  
actually  fighting. From this rational point of view we find 
ourselves  in the dilemma of St. Paul -"To will is 
present with  me; but how to perform that which  
is good I find  not. For the good that I would l do 
not." But this is  not, as St.  Paul  supposed,  because  
the will or the "spirit" is rcasonable and the flesh 
perverse. le is be - cause "a house divided against 
itself cannot stand." The whole organism is 
perverse bccause the brain i s split from the bclly 
and the head unconscious of its  union  with  the 
tail. There are few grounds for hoping that, in any 
im- mediatc future, there will be any recovery of 
social  sanity. lt would seem that the vicious circle 
muse be - come yet more intolerable, more 
blatantly and des - perately circular beforc any 
large numbers of human  beings awaken to the 
tragic trick which they are play - ing on thernselves. Bu Lfor those  who sce  clcarl y thac  it is a circle and 
why ir  is a circle, there is no altema - tive bue to 
stop circling. For as soon as you see the  whole  
circle,  the illusion  that  che head is separate  from  
che tail disappears. THE WISDOM  OF THE BODY  
And then, when experience stops oscillating 
and writhing, it can again become sensitive  to the 
wis- dom of thc body, to the hidden depths of its 
own sub - stance. Becausc I speak of the wisdom of thc bod y and 
of the necessity for recognizing that we are 
material,  this is not to be taken as a philosophy of 
"material - ism" in thc accepted sense. I am not 
asserting that the  ultimatc rcality is matter. Maller 
is a word, a noise,  which rcfers  to the forms and  
patterns  taken by a  process. We do not know  what  
this process  is, because  it is nota "what" -that is, a 
thing definablc by sorne  fixed concept or mcasure. If we wam to keep the old  language,  still using 
such  terms  as ''spiritual"  and "material,"  the 
spiritual  must  mean  "the  indefin - able,"  that  
which,  because  it is living,  must  evcr  escape thc 
[ramework of any fixcd form. Matter is  spirit  
namcd. Aftcr  ali Lhis,  thc brain  dcscrvcs  a word  for 
itselfl  
For thc brain, including its reasoning and calculat•  
ing centers, is a pan and product of che body. It is 
as natural as the heart and stomach, and, rightly 
used, is  anything  but an enemy  of man. Ilut to be 
used  rightly it must be put in its place, for the 
brain  is made forman, not man for his brain. In 
other words,  the function of thc brain is to serve 
che prcsent and the real,  not to send  man  chasing 
wildly after  thc phantom  of the futurc. Furthcrmore,  in our habitual  state  of mental  
ten- THE  WISOOM  OF INSECURJTY  
sion lhe  brain does not work properly, and this is one  
reason why its abstractions seem LO have so great a  
realily. Whcn the hcan is out of ordcr, wc are clearly  
conscious of  its beating;  it bccomes  a distraction,  
pounding within lhc breast. lt scems most probable  
that our preoccupation with thinking and planning,  
togethcr with  the sense of mental  fatigue,  is a sign  
of sorne disorder of the brain. The brain should, and  
in sorne cases <loes, calculate and reason with the un• 
conscious case o( che  other bodily organs. After all,  
the brain is nota muscle, and is thus not dcsigned for  
effon  and strain. But whcn people try to think or concentrate, thcy  
behave as if they were trying to push  their brains  
around. They screw up their faces, knit thcir brows,  
and approach mental problems as if they wcre some - 
thing likc  heaving bricks. Yet you do not have  to 
grind  and strain  LO digcst  íood,  and still lcss to scc, 
hear,  a11CI reccivc  other  ncural  imprcssions. Thc  
"lightning  calculator"  wfio can sum  a long  column  
of figures ata glance, the intellcctual gcnius who can  
comprchcnd a wholc page of rcading in  a few scc - 
onds, and the musical prodigy, such as  lozart,  who  
seems to grasp harmony and countcrpoint from baby - 
hood, are examplcs of che propcr use oí man's most  
marvclous  instrumcnc. Those o( us who are not geniuses know something  
of thc same ability. Take for cxample thc anagram  
l'OCATEJ.0JMC. You  can work  ovcr  thcse  lcuers  for 
72 THE  WISDOM  OF THE  BODY  
hours,  trying system  after system  of rearrangement  
in order  to discover  tbe scrambled  word. Try,  in- 
stead,  just looking  at the anagram  with  a relaxed  
mind,  and in a very short space  of time  your  brain  
will deliver  the answer  without  tbe sligbtest  effort. 1 
We rightly  mistrust  the ··snap"  answers of strained  
and wandering  minds,  but che rapid,  cffortless,  and 
almost  unconscious  solution  of logical  problems  is 
what  the brain  is supposed  to <leliver. Working rightly, tbe brain is thc highest form of  
"instinctual wisdom." Thus il should work like the  
homing instinct of pigeons and thc forrnalion of the  
foetus in the womb -,vithout verbalizing the process  
or knowing  "how"  it <loes  it. The  self-conscious  
brain, like the self -conscious heart, is a disorder, and  
manifests itself in the acute fecling of separation be - 
twcen "I" and my experience. The brain can only as - 
sume its proper behavior when consciousness is doing  
what it is designed for: not writhing and whirling to  
get out of present experience, but being effortlessly  
aware  of it. 1 If you don't  succecd  within  one minute,  read  onl Otherwisc  
you will  begin to be annoycd cither with yoursclf, or with  me, and  
thc consequcnt  strain  will intcrícrc  with  thc process. 73  
 
V. ON B E I N G  A W A R E   
 
T H E QUESTION  "WMAT  SHALL  WE  DO  ABOUT  IT?" IS 
only asked by those who do not understand the 
prob - lem. If a problem can be solved at all, to 
undersrand  it and to know what to do about it are 
the same thing. On the other hand, doing 
something about a prob - lem which you do not 
understand is Iike trying to  clear away darkness 
by thrusting it aside with your  hands. When light 
is brought, thc darkncss vanishes  at once. This applies particularly to che problem now 
be- fore us. How are we to heal che split 
between 'T' and "me," the brain and the body, 
man and nature,  and bring all  the vicious circles 
which  ic produces  to an end? How are we to 
expcrience  life as something  other than a honey 
trap in which we are the strug - gling flies? How 
are we to find security and peace of mind in a 
world whose very nature is insecurity, im- 
permanence, and unceasing change? Ali these 
ques - tions demand a method and a course of 
action. At  the same time, all of them show that the 
problem has not been understood. We do not 
need action -yet. We need  more  light. Light,  here,  meaos  awareness -to be aware  of 
life,  
of experience  as it is at this  moment,  without  
any judgments  or ideas  about  it. In other  
words,  you  
75 THE  WlSOOi \l OF INSl:'.CURITY  
have  to sec and  feel what you are experiencing as 
it is, and notas it is named. This very simple 
"opening  of the cyes"  brings  about  the most  
extraorclinary  transformation  of undcrstanding  
and living,  and shows that rnany of our mase 
batlling problcrns are  pure illusion. This may 
sound like an over -simplifica - tion because most 
people imagine themselves to be  fully enough 
aware of che present already,  but we  shall  sec that  
this is far from  true. 1 
Because awareness is a vicw of reality  free  from  
ideas and judgments, it is clearly impossible to 
define  an<l writc clown what it reveals. Anything 
which can  be described is an idea, and I cannot 
makc a positive  statement about something -the 
real world -which is notan idea. I shall therefore 
havc to be content with  talking about thc false 
imprcssions ,,vhich awareness  removes, rather 
than che truth which it reveals . The  latter can 
only be symbolized with words which mean  littlc  
or nothing  to those without  a direct  under - 
standing  of the truth  in question. What  is true  and positive  is roo real  and too 
living  
to be described, and ro try to describe it is like 
put- ting red paint on a red rose. Therefore most 
of what  follows will havc to havc a rathcr negative 
quality. The truth  is revealed by removing things 
that stand  in its light, an art not unlike sculpturc, 
in which the anist  creares,  not by building,  but 
by hacking  away. 1Thc word ":iwarencss"  is used in the sense givcn  10 it by J.  
Krishnamurti, whose writings discuss this thcme with 
cxtraordi - nary  pcrception. ON BEINC  AWARE  
We saw that the questions about finding security  
and peace of mind in an impermanent world showed  
that the problem had not becn understood. Before  
going any funher, it must be clcar LhaL the kind of  
securily we are talking about is primarily spiritual  
and psychological. To exist  at ali, human  beings  
musl havc a minim um livelihood in terms of food,  
drink,  and clothing -,vith  the understanding,  how - 
ever, that it cannot last indefinitely. But if the as - 
surance  of a mínimum  livelihood  for sixLy  years  
would even  begin  LO saLisfy the heart of man, human  
problems would amounc to vcry liule. Incleed, thc  
very reason why we do not have this assurance is that  
we want so much more than the mínimum neces - 
sities. It musl be obvious, from the start, that there is a  
contradiclion in wanting to be perfectly sccure in a  
univcrsc whosc vcry naturc is momentariness and 
íluidity. I3uL  thc contradicLion  lies a liulc  decper  
than the mere conflict between thc desire for security  
and the /acl of change. If I want tO be secure, that is,  
protecte <l from the flux of life, I am wanting to be  
separate from life. Yet it is t.his very scnse o[ scparate - 
ness  wh ich  makcs  me fcel insecure. To be sccure  
means to isolale and fonify Lhc "!," but it is jusL the  
fecling of bcing an isolatecl "1" which makcs me feel  
loncly and afraid. In Olher words,  Lhe more security  
I can get, thc more  I shall  want. To put it still more  plainly:  Lhe desirc  for sewriLy  
77 TIIE  WlSDOM  OF JNSECURITY  
ánd the fecling  of insecurity are the same thing. To hold your  breath  is to lose  your  breath. A 
society  based  on the qucst  for security  is nothing  
but a breath -retention contest in which everyonc 
is as taut  as a drum  and as purple  as a bcct. We look Cor this sccurity by fonifying and 
enclos - ing ourselves  in innumerable  ways. Vve 
want  the protection of being  "exclusive"  and 
"special,"  seek - ing to belong to the safest church,  
the best nation,  the highest class, the right set, 
and the "nice" peoplc. Thesc dcfenscs lcad to 
divisions bcL1vccn us, and so to more  insecurity  
dcmanding  more  dcfenses. Of course it is all clone 
in the sincere belief that we are  trying to do che 
rigln things and livc in the best way;  but this,  too, 
is a contradiction. 1can  only  think  seriously  of trying  to livc up 
toan  
ideal, to improve mysel(, if I am split in two picccs. Thcre  must  be a good  .. 1.. who  is going  to improvc  
thc bad  "me." "I," who has the bcst  intcntions, 
will go to work on wayward ··me," an<l the tusslc 
betwccn  the two will very much stress the 
differencc between  them. Consequcntly "!" will 
fcel more separate than  evcr, ancl so mcrcly 
increasc thc lonely ancl cut -off feelings  which  
rnakc  "me"  bchavc  so badly. Wc can hardly  bcgin  10 considcr  this problem  
un- 
lcss it is clear that thc craving for sccurity is itself 
a pain and a contradiction, and that thc more we 
pur- sue it, the more painful it becomes. This is 
true in  whatcvcr  form  sccurity  may  be conccivcd. ON BEING  AWARE  
You want to be happy, to forget yourself, and 
yét the more you try to forget yourself, the more 
you remembcr the self you wam to forget. You 
want to escape from  pain, but thc more you 
struggle to  escape, the more you inflame the 
agony. You are  afraid and wam ro be brave, but 
thc efTort to be brave is fcar trying to run away 
from itself. You want  peace of mind, but the 
auempt to pacify it is like trying to calm  the 
waves  with  a flat-iron. We are all familiar with this kind of vicious 
circle  in the form of worry. We know that 
worrying is  futile, but we go on doing it bccause 
calling it futilc  does not stop ir. \Ve worry 
because we feel unsafc,  and want to be safe. Yet 
it is perfectly useless to say  that we should not 
want to be safe. Calling a desirc  bad names 
doesn't get rid of it. What we have to dis - cover is 
that therc is no safety, that seeking it is pain - ful, 
and that when we imagine that  we havc found it, 
we don't like it. In othcr words, if wc can really 
un- derstand what we are looking for -that safery 
is isola - tion,  and what  we do to ourselves  when  
we look  for it 
-we shall see that we do not want it at all. No 
one has to tell you that you sho11ld not hold your 
breath  for ten minutes. You know that you can't 
do it, and  that  the attempt  is most  
uncomfortable. Thc principal thing is to understand that therc 
is no safcty or security. One of thc  worst vicious 
circlcs  is the problem of the alcoholic. In very many 
cases he  knows  quite  clearly  that  he is 
destroying  himself,  
79 THE  WISD01 \I  OF  INSl:'.CURITY  
that, for him, liquor is poison, that he actually 
hatcs  being drunk, and cven dislikes the taste of 
liquor. And yet he drinks. For, dislike itas he 
may, the ex - pericncc of not drinking is worse. 1t givcs him thc  '"horrors," for he stands face to 
facc with the un - vcilccl,  basic  insecurity  of the 
world. Herein lies thc crux of the matter. To stand 
face  to face with insecurity is still not to 
understand it. To understand  il, ) ' O U must  not  face 
it but be  it. It is likc the Pcrsian story of thc sagc 
who carne to thc  door oíl lcavcn  and knocked. From withi11 thc voicc  o( God askcd, '"\\lho is 
thcrc" and rhe sagc answcrcd,  "lt is  J." "In this l 
lousc," replied  the voicc,  "there  is no room for 
thce and me." So the sage went away,  and spem 
many ycars pondcring over this answer in  deep 
mcclitation. Rcturning a second time, the voicc  
asked thc same question, and again the sage an - 
swercd, "Jt is l." The door remained closed. After  some ycars he rcLUrncd for thc third time, 
and, at his  knocking, the voicc once more 
demanded, '"Who is there?" Ancl tlie sage cried, 
"lt is thysel(!" The <loor  was  openccl. To undcrstand  that  thcre  is no security  is far 
more  
than 1.0 agrce with thc thcory that ali things 
change. more cvcn than 10 observe 1hc  
transiLOrincss of life. Thc notion of sccurity is 
bascd on thc fccling that  thcrc is something 
within us which is pcrmancnt,  somcthing "·hich 
endures through ali thc days and  changes  of 
life. \Ve are struggling  to make  sure  of 
Ro ON BEING  AWARE  
Lhe permanence, concinuity, and safety of this 
endur - ing core,  this center and soul  of our being 
which  we call "l." For this  we think  to be che real 
man -the thinker  of our thoughts,  the feeler  of 
our feelings,  and the knower  of our knowledge. \Ve 
do not ac- tually  understand  that  thcre  is no 
security  until  we realize  that  this "I" <loes  not 
exist. Understanding comes  through  awareness. Can 
we, then,  approach  our expericnce -our  sensations,  
feel- ings,  and thoughts -quite simply,  as if wc  had 
never  known  them  before,  and,  without  prcjudice,  
look  at what  is going on? You  may  ask, "Which  
experiences,  which  sensations  and feelings,  shall  
we look  at?" I will answer,  "Which  ones  can you 
look  at?" The an- swer  is that  you must  look  at the 
ones  you have  now. That  is surely  rather  obvious. Bue  very  obvious  things  are often  overlookcd. If a 
feeling  is not pres - cnt, you are not awarc  of it. There  is no expcrience  but present  expcrience. What  you know,  what  you are actually  aware  of, 
is just what  is happening  at this 
moment,  and no more. 13ut  what  about  mcmories? Surely  by 
remember - ing 1 can also know what  is pase? Very 
well,  remem - bcr something. Remember  the 
incident  of secing  a fricnd walking down  the strcet. What  are you  aware  of? You are not  acLUally  
watching  the veritable  evenc  of your fricnd walking 
clown  che strcct. You can't go  up and shakc hands 
with hirn, or get an answer to a  question  you forgot  
to ask hirn  at the pase  time  you 
81 TIIE  WISDOM  OF INSECURITY  
are remembering. In other words, you are not 
look - ing at the actual past at ali. You are looking 
at a present  trace  of the past. lt is likc seeing the tracks of a bird on the 
sand. I see the prcsent tracks. I do not, at thc sarne 
time, see  the bird making those tracks an hour 
befare. The  bird  has flown,  and I am not aware  of 
hirn. From  the tracks I infer that a bird was there. From memories  you infer that there have been 
past events. But you  are not aware of any past 
events. You know the past  only  in thc prcscm  
ancl  as parto(  thc present. Wc are seeing, then, that our expericnce is 
alto - gethcr momentary. From one point of 
view, each  momcnc is so elusive and so brief that 
we cannot even  think about it befare it has gane. From another point  of view, this rnoment is 
always here, since we know  no other moment 
than the present moment. lt is al - ways dying, 
always becoming pase more rapidly than  
imagination can conceive. Yct at the same time it 
is always being born, always new, emerging just 
as rapidly from that complete unknown which 
we call  the futurc. Thinking about it almost  
makes you  breathless. To say that experience is momentary is rcally 
to say that experience and the present moment 
are the  samc ching. To say that  this momcnt  is 
always dying,  or becoming past, and always being 
born, or corning  out of the unknown, is to say the 
same thing of ex- perience. The  expericnce  you 
have  just had  has van- 
82 ON BEING  AWAR.E  
ished irretrievably, and all that remains of it is a sort  
of wake  or track  in the present,  which  we call 
memory. While you can make a guess as to what ex- 
pericnce is coming nexc, in actual  fact you do not  
know. Anything might  happcn. But the cxpcrience  
which is going on now is, as ir were, a newborn in - 
fant which vanishes be(ore it can even begin to gct  
older. While you are watching this present experience,  
are you aware of someone watching it? Can you 6nd,  
in addition to thc cxpcrience itsclf, an expericncer? Can you, at the same time,  read this scntence and  
think  about  yoursclf  reading  it? You will find  that,  to 
think about yourself reading it, you muse for a brief  
second stop reading. The first experience is reading. The second experiencc is the thought, "I  am read - 
ing." Can you find any thinker, who is thinking thc  
thought, "I am reading?" ln othcr words, when pres - 
ent cxpcriencc  is the  thought,  "l am rcading," can  
you think  about  yoursclf  thinking  this thought? Once again,  you muse stop  thinking just,  "I am 
reading." You pass to a third expcrience, ,vhich is the  
thought, "l  am thinking that  I am reading." Do not  
lct thc rapidity with which Ihcsc thoughts can change  
deceivc you in1.o tite fccling that you think thcm ali  
at once. But what has happened? Never al any time wcre  
you able  to separate  yourself  from  your  present  
thought,  or your  present  cxperience. The  first  pres - 
83 TJIE  WISDOM  OF INSEClJRITY  
ent experience was reading. When you lried to 
think  about yourself reading, the experience 
changed, ancl  the next present experience was 
the thought "l am  reading." You could not 
separate yourself from this  experience without 
passing on to another. lt was  "ring around 1.he 
rosy." When you were thinking, "I am reading this 
sentence" you were not reading it. In  other 
words, in each present experience you were  
only aware of that experience. You were never 
awarc  of bcing aware. You werc ncver able to 
separatc the  thinkcr from  thc thought,  the 
knower  from  the known. All you ever found was a 
new thought, a new  experience. To be aware, then, is to be aware of thoughts, 
feel- ings, sensations, desires, and ali other forms 
of ex - perience. Nevcr at any time are you aware 
oE any- thing which is not cxpcrience, nota 
thought or feel - ing, but instead an experiencer, 
thinker, or feelcr. lf this is so, what makes us 
think that any such thing  exists? We might  say,  for cxample,  that  the 'T' who  is 
the 
thinker is this physical body and brain. llut this 
body  is in no way separate from its thoughts and 
scnsa - tions. Whcn you have a sensation, say, of 
touch,  that sensation is pan of your body. While 
that sensation  is going on, you cannot move the 
body away from it  any more than you can walk 
away from a headache  or from your own feet. So 
long as it is present, that  sensation  is your  body  
and is you. You  can removc  ON BEING  AWARE  
the body from an uncomfortable chair, but you 
can- not move  it from  the sensation  of a chair. The nolion  of a separate  thinker,  of an "l" dis- 
tinct from the experience, comes from mcmory 
and from the rapidity with which thought changcs. lt is  like whírling  a burning stick to give the 
illusion of a  continuous circle of ti.re. If you 
imagine that memory  is a direcc knowledge of che 
pase rather chan a present  experience, you get the 
illusion of knowing the past  and the prescnt at the 
same time. This suggests t hat there is something 
in you dislinct from both the past  and che present 
experiences. You  reason,  "I know  chis present 
experience, and it is different from that  past 
experience. If 1 can compare the two, and notice  
that experience  has changed,  I muse  be something  
constant  and apart." But,  as a matter  of fact,  you cannot  compare  this 
present experience with a pase experience. You 
can only compare it with a memory of the past, 
which is a  parl of lhe presenl experience. When you 
see clearly  chat memory is a form of present 
experience,  it will  be obvious that trying to 
separate yourself from this  experience  is as 
impossible as trying to make your  teeth  bite 
themselves. There  is simply  experience. There is 
not something or someone experiencing ex - 
perience! You do not fccl feelings, think thoughts, 
or sense sensations any more than you hear 
hearing, see  sight,  or smell smelling. "I feel fine"  
means  that a fine feeling  is present. It does  not 
mean  that  there  is 
85 THE  WISDOM  OF INSECURITY  
one thing called an  "I" and another separate  thing  
called a feeling,  so that  when  you bring  them  to- 
gether this 'T' feels  the fine feeling. There  are no 
fcelings but present feelings, and whatever feeling 
is prescnt is "I.'' No onc  ever found an 'T' apart 
from  sorne present experience, or sorne 
experience apart  from an "I"-which is only to say 
that the two are the  same  thing. As a mere  philosophical  argument  this is a waste  
of 
time. We are not trying to have an ''intellectual 
dis- cussion." We are being awarc of the Cace that 
any separate  'T' who  thinks  thoughts  and 
experiences  expcricnce  is an  illusion. To 
undcrstand  this is  to realize that life is entirely 
momentary, that there is  neither permanence nor 
security,  and that  there  is no 'T' which  can be 
prote  ted. There  is a Chinese  story  o[ onc who  came  to a 
great sagc, saying, ·•¡ havc no peace of mind. Please  pacify  my mind." The sage  answered,  
"Bring  out your mind (your T) bcfore me, and I 
will pacify it." ''These many years,"  he replied,  "I 
have sought my  mind, but I cannot find it." "There," concluded the sage,  "it is pacified!" The real rcason why human life can be so 
utterly  exasperating and frustrating is not beca  use 
therc are  faces  called  dcath,  pain,  fear,  or 
hunger. The mad - 
ness of the thing is that when such facts are 
present,  we circle, buzz, writhe, and whirl,  trying 
to get  the "I" out of the experience. We pretend  
thac  we are 
86 ON BEING  AWARE  
amoebas, and try to protect ourselves from life by  
splitting in  nvo. Sanily, wholeness, and  integration  
líe in the realization that wc are not clividcd, that  
man and his presem cxpcricncc are onc, and that no  
separa  te "l" or mind  can  be  found. While the notion that I am scparate from my ex- 
perience  remains,  there  is confusion  and turmoil. Because of this, therc is ncither awarencss nor under - 
standing oE experience, and thus no real possibility  
of assimilating it. To understand this momcnt l must  
not try to be divided from it; I must be aware of it  
with  my whole  being. This,  like rcfraining  from  
holding my breath for ten minutes,  is not something  
I should do. In reality, it is che only thing 1 can do. Everything else is the insanity of attempting the im - 
possible. To understand music, you must listen to it. But so  
long  as you are thinking,  " [ am listcning  to this 
music," you are not listening. To understand joy or  
fear, you  must be wholly and  undividedly aware of  
it. So long as you are calling it  na mes and  saying,  "I 
am happy," or "l am afraid," you are not being aware  
of it. Fcar, pain, sorrow, and boredom must remain  
problems if we do not understand thcm, but under - 
standing rcquires a single and unclividccl mine!. This,  
surely, is the meaning of that strange saying, "If chine  
eyc be single,  thy whole  body  shall  be full of light." VI. T H E  MARVELOUS  MOMENT   
 
You  ARE  LISTENING  TO A SONG. SUDOENLY  I ASK,  " A T   
this moment,   who  are you?" How  will you 
answer  this question immediately and 
spontaneously, with - out stopping  to find words? If the question  does  n o t shock  you out of listening,  
you will answer  by hum- ming che song. If the 
question surprised you, you will answer,  "At this 
moment,  who  are you?" But if you stop  to think,  
you will  try to tell me,  not about  this moment,  but 
about  the past. I shall  get informa - tion about  your  
name  and address,  your  business  a n d personal  
history. But I asked  who  you are,  not w h o you 
were. For to be aware of reality, of the living  
present,  is to discover  that at each  moment  the ex- 
perience is all. There is nothing else besidc it-
no experience  of .. you"  expericncing  the  
cxperiencc. Even  in our most  apparendy  self-conscious  mo- 
ments,  the "self"  of which  we are conscious  is 
always  sorne particular feeling or sensation -of 
muscular  tensions,  of warmth  or cold,  of pain  or 
irritation,  of breath  or of pulsing  blood. There   is 
nevcr  a s e n s a - tion of what  scnses  sensations,  just 
as thcrc  is no meaning  or possibility  in thc notion  of 
smelling  one's  nose  or kissing  onc's  own  lips. In times  of happiness  and  pleasure,   we are  
u s u- ally ready  enough  to be awarc  of the 
moment,  and to 
89 THE  WISDOM  OF INSECURlTY  
let the experience be ali. In such moments we 
"for- get ourselvcs," and the mind makes no 
attempt to di- vide itself from itself, to be separate 
from experience. But with  thc arrival  of pain,  
whether  physical  or cmotional,  whether acLUal  or 
anticipated,  the split  begins  and che circle  goes  
round  and round. As soon as it becomes clear that 'T' cannot pos - 
sibly escape  from  the reality of che present, since  
'T' is nothing other than what l know now,  this 
inner  turmoil musl stop. No possibility remains 
but to be  aware of pain,  fear,  boredom, or grie[  in 
the same  complete  way  that  one is aware  of 
plcasure. The  human organism has the most 
wonderful powers of  adaptation to both physical 
and psychological pain. But these can only come 
into full play when che pain  is not being constantly  
restimulated  by this  inner  effort to geL away from 
it, to separate the  "I" from  Lhe feeling. The effort 
creares a state of tension in  whic h the pain thrivcs. But when the tension ceases,  mind and body begin 
to absorb che pain as }Vater re - acts  to a blow  or 
cut. There  is another  story  of a Chinese  sage  who  
was  
asked, "How shall wc escape thc heat?" -meaning, 
of course, thc heat of suffering. He answered, "Go 
right  into the middle of che firc." ·'But how, then, 
shall we  escape che scorching flame?" "No further 
pain will  trouble you!" We do not need to go as far 
as China. The  same  idea  comes  in The Divine  
Comedy,  where  
 
90 THE  MARVELOUS  MOMENT  
Dante  and Virgil  find  that  the way  out of Hell  lies 
at its very  center. In moments of great joy we do not, as a rule, 
stop  to think, "I am happy," or, "This is joy." Ordinarily,  we do not pause to think thoughts of 
this kind until  the joy is past its peak, or unless 
there is sorne anxiety  that it will go away. At such 
times we are so aware of the moment that no 
attempt is made to compare its  experience with 
other expericnces. For this reason  wc do not 
name it, for names which are not mere ex- 
clamations are bascd on comparisons. "Joy" is 
dis- tinguishecl from "sorrow" by contrast, by 
comparing  one state of mincl wich the other. Had we ncver  knovm joy, it would be impossible 
to identify sorrow  as sorrow. But in reality  wc cannot  compare  joy with  
sorrow. Comparison is possible only by thc very rapid 
alter - nation of two statcs of mind, ancl you 
cannot switch  back and fonh bctween thc 
gcnuinc feclings of joy  and sorrow as you can 
shift your eycs bctween a cat and a dog. Sorrow 
can only be compared wich che  memory of joy, 
which is not at all thc samc ching as joy itself. Like words,  mcmorics nevcr  renlly succccd in 
"catching" n:ality. , \lcmorics are somewhat 
abstract,  being a knowledgc aboul  1hings rathcr 
than of chings. Memory nevcr caplllres the 
esscnce, the present in - tensity,  the concrete  
reality  of an experience. lt is, as TJIE  WISOOM  OF INSECURITY  
it were, the corpse of an experience, from which 
the life has vanished. What  we know  by memory,  
we know only al secondhand. Memories  are dead  
be- cause  fixed. The memory  of your deceased 
grand - mother can only repeat what your 
grandmother was. But thc  real,  present 
grandmother could always  do or say someLhing 
new, and you ,vere never absolutely  sure  what  she 
would  do next. There  are, Lhen,  two ways  of understanding  an 
ex- 
perience. The firsl is to compare it with the 
memories  of ocher expcriences, and so lO name 
and define il. This  is to imcrpret it in accordance 
wilh  che dead  and the pase. The second is  lO be 
aware  of it as it  is, as when, in the intensity of joy, 
we forget past and  future, let the present be all, 
and thus do not even  stop  to Lhink,  "I am 
happy." Both  ways  of understanding  have  their  uses. fiul Lhey corrcspond to the difference  between  
knowing  a thing  by words  and knowing  it 
immec \iately. A menu  is very useful. but it is no 
substicute  for the dinner. A guidebook  is an 
admirable  tool,  but_ it is hardly LObe compared 
with  the country  it describes. Thc point,  then,  is 
that whcn wc try to understand  the prescm  by 
comparing  ic with  mernories,  we do nol 
u11derstand  itas deeply  as whcn  we are aware  of 
it withoul  comparison. This,  however,  is usually  
the way  in which  we approach  unpleasant  
expcriences. Instead  o( being  aware  of them  as 
Lhey  are, wc try to dcal  ,·:ith  Lhcm  in tcrms  of thc 
pase. Thc frightenec1  THE  MARVELOUS  MOMENT  
or lonely person begins at once to think, 'Tm 
afraid,"  or, 'Tm  so loncly." This is, of course, an auempt to avoid thc 
experi - cnce. We don't want to be awarc o{ this 
prcscnt. But  as we cannot get out of the present, 
our only escape is  into mcmories. Here we feel on 
safe ground, far the  past is the fixed and the 
known -but also, of course,  thc dead. Thus to try 
to get out of, say, fear we en - deavor at once to 
be separate from it and to "fix" it  by interprcting 
it in terms of mcmory, in tcrms of  what is 
already fixed ancl known. In ocher words, wc  try 
to adapt ourselves to the mystcrious prcscnt by  
comparing it with the (remembered) past, by 
naming  and  "identifying"  it. This  would  be all very  well  if you  were  trying  
to 
get away from something from which you can 
get away. lt is a useful process for knowing whcn to 
come  in out of the rain. Bue it does not tell you 
how to live  with things from which you cannot 
get away, which  are already pare of yourself. Your body does not  eliminate  poisons  by 
knowing  their  names. To try to control fear or 
depression or boredom by calling  them names 
is to resort to superstition of trust in curses  and  
invocations. lt is so casy to see why this does not work. Ob- viously, wc try to know, name, and define 
fear in  order to make it "objective," that is, 
separate from  "l." Bue  why  are we trying  to be 
separate  from  fear? Because  we are afraid. In 
other  words,  fear  is trying  
93 TME  WISDOM  OF INSECURITY  
to separate itself from fear, as if one could fight 
fire with  fire. And this is not ali. The more we accustorn our - 
selves  LO understanding  the present  in terms  of 
memory,  the unknown by the known,  the living 
by the dead,  the more  desiccatcd  and embalrned,  
thc more  joyless  and frustrated  life bccomes. So 
pro- tected  from life, man becomes a sort of 
mollusc en - crusted in a hard shell of "tradition," 
so that when at last reality  breaks  through,  as it 
must,  che tide of  pent -up {ear  runs  wild. If, on the other hand, you are aware of fear, you  
realizc  that,  becausc  this feeling  is now  yourself,  
escape  is impossible. You  see that  calling  it "fear"  
tells you little or nothing about it, far the compari - 
son and the naming is bascd, not on past 
experience,  but on memory. You have then no 
choice bue to be  awarc of it with your whole bcing 
asan entircly new  expericnce. lndeed, every 
expcrience is in this sense  new, and at every 
moment of our lives we are in the midst of the 
new and  the únknown. At this point  you receive  
the experience  without  resisting  it or naming it, 
and the whole sense of conAict  between  'T' and 
the present  rcality  vanishes. Far most  of us this conAict  is ever  gnawing 
within  
us because our lives are one long effort to resist 
the unknown, the real present in which we live, 
which is the unknown in the midst of coming into 
being. Liv - ing thus,  we never  really  leam  to 
live with  it. At 
94 THE  .MARVELOUS  MOMENT  
every moment we are cautious, hesitant, and on 
the defensivc. And all to no avail, for life thrusts 
us into  the unknown willy -nilly, and resistance is 
as futilc  and exasperaling as trying to swim 
against a roaring  torrent. Thc art of living in chis "predicament" is 
neicher  careless drifting on the one hand  nor 
fearful cling - ing to che past and che known on 
the ocher. le con - sists in being completely 
sensitive to each moment,  in regarding itas 
utterly ncw and unique, in having  the mind  
open  and wholly  rcccptive. This is not a philosophical theory but an 
experi - ment. One  has to make  the cxperiment  
to under - 
stand that it brings into play altogether new 
powers  of adaptation to life, of literally 
absorbing pain and  insecurity. le is as hard to 
describe how this absorp•  tion works as to 
explain the beating of one's heart or  the formation 
of genes. The "open" mind does this as  mosL of us 
breathe: withom l>eing able to explain it at all. The principie  of Lhe thing  is clearly  something  
like jiido, tbe gentle (j1t) way (do) of mastering an 
op- posing  force  by giving  in to it. The natural world gives us many examplcs of 
che great cfiectiveness of this way. The Chinese 
philoso - phy of which judo itself is an 
expression -Taoism - drew auention to che power 
of water to overcome al! obstaeles by its 
gentleness and pliability. It showed  how the 
supple willow survives the tough pine in a  
snowstorm,  for whereas  the unyielding  
branches  of 
95 THE  WJSDOM  OF INSECURITY  
the pine  accumulate  snow  until  they  crack,  the 
springy boughs of the willow bend under its 
weight,  drop  the snow,  and jump  back  again. If, whcn swimming, you are caught in a strong  
current, it is fatal to resise. You must swim with 
it and g radually edge to che side. One who falls from 
a hcight with stiff limbs will break them, but if 
he relaxes like a cat he will fall sa[ely. A building 
with - out "give"  in ils structure  will easily  
collapse  in storm or earthquake, and a car 
without the cushion - ing of tires and springs will 
soon come apart on the  road. The mind has just che same powers, for it has 
give  and can absorb shocks like water or a 
cushion. But chis giving way toan opposing force 
is not at all the  same thing as running away. A 
body of ,vater <loes  not run away when you 
push it;  it simply gives at  thc poin  t of che push  
and endoses  yo ur hand. A shock  absorber does not 
fall clown likc a bowling -pin when  struck; it gives, 
and yet stays in the same place. To run away is  
the only defense  of something rigid  against an 
ovenvhelming force. Therefore the good  shock 
absorber has not only "give," but also stability  or 
"weight." This  weight  is likewise  a function  of the mind,  
and 
appears in the much -misunderstood phenomenon 
of laziness. Significantly enough, nervous and 
frustrated  people are always busy, even in being 
idle, such idle - ness  being  the "laziness"  of fear,  
not of rest. But the 
96 TIIE  MARVELOUS  MOMENT  
mind -body  is a system  which  conserves and accumu - 
lates energy. '\Nhilc doing this it is propcrly 
lazy. When the energy is stored, it is justas happy to 
move,  and yet to move skillfully -along the line of 
least re - sistancc. Thus it is not only necessity, 
bue also lazi - ness, which is the mothcr of 
invention. One may ob - serve the unhurried, 
"heavy" movcmcms of a skillful  laborer at some 
hard task, and even in going against  gravity the 
good rnountaincer uses gravity, taking  slow, 
hcavy stridcs. He seems to tack up the slope,  like 
a sailboat  against  thc wincl. In the light of these principies, how <loes the 
mind  absorb suffering? It discovers  that 
resistance and escape -the ''J'' process -is a false 
move. The pain is inescapable, and resistance as a 
defense only makes it  worse; the whole systern is 
jarred by thc shock. Sce- ing the impossibility of 
this course, it muse act ac- cording to  its nature -
remain  stable  and absorb. To remain stablc  is to refrain from trying to 
sepa - rare yourself from a pain because you know 
that you  cannot. Running away from  fear is  fear,  
fighting pain  is pain,  trying  to be brave   is being  sea 
red. If the mind  is in pain, the mind is pain. The 
thinker has no othcr  form than bis thought. There is no escape. But so long as you are not 
aware of the inseparability of  thinkcr  and 
thought,  you will try to escape. From this follows, quite naturally, absorption. It is no effort; the mind does it by itself. Seeing 
that  there  is no escape  from  the pain,  the mind  
yields  to 
97 THE  WISDOM  OF JNSECURITY  
it, absorbs it, and becomes conscious of just 
pain  without any "I" fecling it or resisting it. It 
cxperi - ences pain in the same complete,  
unselfconscious way  in which it cxpcriences 
plcasure. Pain is the nature  of this present 
moment, and J can only live in this moment. Sometimes, when resistance ceases, the pain 
simply  goes away or dwindles toan easily 
tolerable ache. At other times it remains, but the 
absence of any resist - ancc brings about  a way of 
fccling pain  so unfamiliar  as to be hard to 
describe. Thc pain is no longer  problernatic. I 
fecl it, bue  there is no urge to get rid  of it, for  1 
have   cliscovered   that  pain  and  the effort  to be 
separa  te frorn   it are the same   thing. Wanting  to gel 
out of pain is the pain; it is not thc "reaction" of 
an "I" distinct from the pain.
The-Wisdom-of-Insecurity_by_Alan_Watts.txt
Summarize the following text section accurately and concisely. Maintain specific details and numerical information, and use anti-repetition mechanisms:

        They also indicatc that this vision is a rcstoration of  
something which we once had, and "losl" becausc we  
did not or could  not appreciate  it. This  vision  is, 
then, the unclouded awareness of this undefinable  
"something" which we call life, present reality, the  
great stream, che eternal now -an awareness without  
the sense  of separation  from  it. The  momenl  I name  it, it is no longer  God;  it is 
man, tree, green, black, red, soft, hard, long, short,  
atom, univcrse. Onc would  rcadily agrec  with  any 
theologian  who  deplores  panthcism  that  these  deni - 
53 THE  WISDOM  OF INSECURITY  
zens of the world of verbiage and convention, these  
sundry "things" conceived as fixed and distinct en - 
titics, are not God. If you ask me to show you God, I  
will point to thc sun, ora cree, ora worm. But if you  
say, "You mean, then, that God is the sun, the tree,  
the worm, and all other things. " -I shall have to say 
that  you have  missed  the point  entirely. 54  
 
IV. T H E  W I S D O M  OF  T H E   B O D Y   
 
WHAT  IS EXPER. ENCE. WHAT  IS L. FE. WHAT. S MOT. ON. What is reality. To ali such questions we must give  
St. Augustine's answer to the quescion,  "What  is 
time. " -". knmv, but whcn you ask me I don't. " Ex - 
perience, life, motion, and reality are so many noises  
used to symbolize the sum of sensations,  llioughts,  
feelings, and dcsires. And if you ask, "What are sensa - 
tions,  et cerera. " 1 can only   answcr,   "Don \  be  silly. You know very well what they are. We can't go on  
defining things indefinitely without going round in  
circles. To define means to fix, and, whcn you get  
clown  tO it, real li fe isn 'l fixecl. " lt was suggestcd at the end of the last chapter that  
this ultimate somcthing which cannot be dcfined or 
fixed can be represented by the word God. If chis be 
true, we know Gocl all Lhe time -but when wc begin  
to think about it we don't. For whcn we begin to  
think about experience we try to fix it in rigid forros  
and ideas. lt  is the old problem of trying to tie up 
water in parcels, or attcmpting to shut the win<l in a 
box. Yct it has always  becn  taught  in rcligion  that  
·'God" is somcthing from which one can expcct wis - 
dom and guidance. vVe have become accustomed to 
thc idea  that wisdom -that is, knowledge,  a<lvice,  and 
55 THE  WISDOM  OF INSECURITY  
information -can be expressed in verbal 
statements  consisting of specific directions. If 
chis be true, it is hard to sec how any wisdom can 
be extracted from  something  impossible  to 
define. Bue  in fact the kind  of wisdom  which  can be 
pul in the form  of specific  directions  amounts  
to very  little,  and most  of the wisdom  which  we 
employ  in everyday life never carne to us as 
verbal informalion. lt was  not through  
statements  that  we learned  how  lO brealhc,  
swallow,  sec, circula  te the blood,  digest  food,  or 
rcsist  diseascs. Yet thcse  things  are performed  by 
the mosl  complex  ancl  marvelous  processcs  which  
no amount  of book -learning  ancl  technical  skill  
can reproduce. This is real wisdom -buc our 
brains have  little to do with it. This is the kind of 
wisdom which  we need  in solving the real,  
practica. problems  of human  lifc. Il has done  
wonders  for us already,  and therc  is no rcason  
why  it should  not do much  more. Without any  
rechnical  apparatus or  calculations  for 
prediction, homing -pigeons  can rcturn  to thcir  
roosts  from  long  distances  away,  migrant  birds  
can revisit  che same  locations  year after  year,  
and plants  can "devise"  wonderful  comraptions  
for distribttting  thcir  seeds  on the wind. They  do 
not,  of course,  do these  things  ''on purpose,"  
which  is only  to say that  thcy  do nol plan  and  
think  them  out. lf they  could  talk,  they  could  
no more  explain  how  it is done  than  the 
average  man  can explain  how  his heart  
beats. THE  WISDOM  OF THE  BODY  
The "instruments" which achieve these feáts 
are, indeed, organs and processes of lhe body -
lhat is to  say, of a myslerious pattern of 
movement which we  do not really unclerstand 
and cannot actually define. In general, however, 
human beings have ceased to  develop the 
instruments of the body. More ancl more  we try to 
effect an adaptation to life by means of ex• tema. gadgets, and attempt to solve our problems by  
conscious thinking ralher than unconscious 
"know - how. " This is much less to our 
advantage than we like to suppose. There are, for instance, "primitive" women 
who  can deliver thcmsclves of a child while 
working out  in the fields, and, after doing the few 
things necessary  to see that the baby is safe, 
warm, and comfortable,  resume  their  work  as 
before. On the other  hand,  the civilized woman 
has to be moved to a complicated  hospital, and 
lhere, surrounded by doclors, nurses,  and 
innumerable gaclgets, force the poor lhing into  
the world with prolonged contortions and 
excruciat - ing pains. It is true that antiseptic 
conditions pre- vent rnany  mothers and babies 
from dying, but why  can 't we have  the antiseptic  
conditions and the nat- ural,  easy  way  of birth. The answer to lhis, and many similar 
queslions, is  that we have been taughl to 
neglcct, despise, and  violate our bodies, and lO 
put all faith  in our brains. Indeed, the special 
discase of civilized man might be  described  as a 
block  or schism  belween  his brain  (spe - 
57 THE  WISDOM  OF INSECURJTY  
cifically, the cortex) and the rest of his body. This  
corrcsponds to lhe split bctwecn "l" and "me," man  
and naturc, and to the confusion of Ouroboros, the 
mixed -up snake,  who <loes nol know thal his tail  
belongs with his head. Happily, lhcrc havc, in recenl  
years, been al lcast lwo scientists who have callcd at - 
tencion to this schism, namely Lancelot Law Whyte  
and Trigant  Burrow. 1 Whytc  calls  this disease  the 
"European dissociation," not because it is peculiar to  
Europcan -Amcrican  civilizalion,  bul because it  is 
specially  charactcristic  of it. BOlh Whyte and Burrow have givcn a clinical de- 
scriplion or diagnosis of thc schism, lhe details of  
which necd not detain us herc. ll is simply saying in 
"medica. '' Janguagc that we have allowed brain think - 
ing to develop and dominate our lives out of ali pro - 
ponion to "instinctual,visclom," which wc are allow - 
ing to slump  imo alrophy. As a conscquence,  we are  
al war wilhin ourselvcs -thc brain dcsiring lhings  
which the body docs not want, and the body desiring  
lhings which the brain clacs not allow; the brain giv- 
ing directions  which  the body  will not follow,  and  
1Of L. L. \Vhy1c's  books,  The Ncxt  Deut:lopmcnt  in  Man  
(Henry 1 -1011, Ncw York, 19. 13) i quite rcadablc and dccply  in1cr - 
c11ing. whilc '/'he U11itnry l'rinriplc in Phy sics nnd Diology (1 lcnry  l-
loll. Ncw York, 19,19) is s1ric1. ly for 1hc sci<:ntific rcadcr. Burrow's  
Socio/ IJn. sis of C1mscio11sness  (London,  1927) and Tite Structure  
of lnsanity  (Londou,  19, 2)  are  unhappily out of print, bu1  mos1  
oí 1hc material is containcd in his Neurosis of Man (Routledge,  
London, 19,¡8). Thcre are prob bly  01her scicntis1s "·orking on the 
same  li11cs,  hui I :un not awarc  of thcm. THE  WISDOM  OF THE  BODY  
the body giving impulses which the brain cannot 
un- derstand. In one way or another civilizcd  man  agrees 
with  St. Francis  in thinking of the body as 
Brother Ass. But even theologians have 
rccognizeci that the source  of evil and stupidity 
lies not in the physical organism  as a whole, but in 
the cut -off, dissociated brain which  they  term  the 
"will. " 'When we compare human with animal desire 
we find  many  extraordinary  differences. The  
animal  tends to cat with his sLOmach, and the 
man with his  brain. Whcn the animal's sLOmach is 
full, he stops  eating, but the man is never sure 
whcn to stop. When  he has eaten as much as his 
belly can  cake, he still  feels empty, he still fecls an 
urge for further gratifica - tion. This is largely 
dueto anxicty, to the knowledge  that a constant 
supply of food  is uncenain. There - fore eat as 
much as you can whilc you can. lt is due,  also,  to 
the knowlcdgc  that,  in an insecure world,  pleasure  
is uncertain. Therefore  the immcdiate  pleasure of 
eating must be cxploited to  the full, even  though  it 
<loes  violence  to the digestion. Human desirc tencls to be insatiable. We are so 
anxious for pleasurc that wc can ncvcr get enough 
of it. Vi/e stimulate our scnse organs until thcy 
bccome  insensitive,  so that  if pleasure  is to 
continue  they  must have stronger anc. l stronger 
stimulants. In self - defense  the body  gets  ill from  
the strain,  but the brain  wants  to go on and on. The  brain  is in pursuit  
59 THE  WISDOM  OF INSECURITY  
of happiness, and because the brain is much more  
concerned about che futurc than the present, it 
con- ceives happiness as the guaramee of an  
indefinitely  long future of pleasures. Yct the brain  
also  knows  that il does not have an indefinitely 
long future, so that, to be happy, it must try Lo 
crowd ali the pleas - ures of Paradise and eternity 
into thc span of a few  ycars. This is why modern civilization is in almost 
every  respect  a vicious circle. lt is insatiabl y 
hungry  be- cause its way of life condemns it 
LOperpetuar frustra - cion. As we have secn, che 
root of this frustration is that we live for Lhc 
future, and the future is an ab- straction, a rational 
inference from experience, which  exists only for 
thc brain. The "primary conscious - ness," thc 
basic mind which knows reality rather than  ideas 
about it, does not know che futurc. lt lives com•  
plctcly  in the prcsent, and  perccivcs  nothing more  
than what is at this momcnt. Thc ingcnious brain,  
howcver,  look s at thaL  part  o[ present  experience  
called memory, and by studying it is able to  make  
predicLions. Thesc predictions are, relatively, so 
ac- curate  and rcliablc  (e. g. ,  "cvcryone  will die")  
that  the future assumes a high clcgrce  of reality -so 
high  that  che prcsenL  loses  its value. But thc future  is still not here,  and cannot  
become  
a part  of experienced  realiLy  until  it is present. Since  what  we know  of the future  is made  up of 
pun:ly. 1bsLract. ind logi<. al  clcmcnts -
inferences,  
60 THE  WJSDOM  OF THE  SODY  
guesses, deductions -it cannot be eaten, felt, 
smelled,  seen, heard, or ochenvise enjoyed. To 
pursuc it is to  pursuc a conslantly retreating 
phantom,  and  thc faster you chasc it, thc  faster 
it runs ahcad. This is  why all the affairs of 
civilization are rushcd, why  hardly anyone 
enjoys what he has, and is forever  seeking more 
and more. Happincss, then, will con - sist, not of 
solid and substantial realities, but of such  
abstract and superficial things as promises, 
hopes,  and assurances. Thus thc  "brainy"  economy  desi gn ed to  produce  
this happiness is a fantastic vicious circlc which 
must  either manufacture more and more 
pleasures or col - lapse -providing a constant  
titillation  of the ears,  eyes, and nerve ends with 
incessant streams of almost  inescapablc noise and 
visual distractions. The per - fect "subject" for 
the aims of this economy is the  person who 
continuously itches his ears with thc  radio, 
preferably using the ponable kind which can  go 
with him at all hours and in all places. His cyes  
Ait without rcst from television scrcen, to 
newspaper,  to magazine, keeping him in a son of 
orgasm -with - out-release through a series of 
teasing glimpse s of  shiny automobiles, shiny 
female bodies, ancl other  sensuous surfaces, 
interspersed wilh such restorers of sensitivity -
shock  trcacments -as "human  intcrest'"  shots of 
criminals, mangled  bodies, wrecked air- planes, 
prize fights, and burning buildings. The lit - 
erature or discourse  that goes  along  with  this is 
sim- 
61 THE  WJSDOM  OF INSECURITY  
ilarly  manufactured  to tease without satisfaction,  
to replace  every  partía. gratification  with  a new  
desire. For this stream  of stimulants  is designed  
to pro- duce cravings for more and more of the 
same, though  loudcr  and faster,  and thesc  
cravings  drive  us to do work  which  is of no 
intercst  save  Cor thc moncy  it pays -to buy more 
lavish  radios,  sleeker  automobiles,  glossier  
magazines,  and bctter  television  sets,  ali of 
which  will somehow  conspire  to persuade  us that  
happiness  lies just arouncl  the comer  if we will 
buy 
one more. Despite the immense hubbub and ncrvous 
strain,  wc are convinccd  that  sleep  is a waste  of 
valuable  time and concinue to chase  chese 
fantasies far into  thc night. Animals spend much of 
their time dozing  and iclling  pleasantly,  but, 
bccause  lifc is short,  human beings muse cram 
into the years the highest  possiblc  amount  of 
consciousness,  alcrcness,  and chronic insomnia so 
as to be sure not to miss che last fragmenc  of 
srartling  pleasure. le isn't that the people who submit to chis kind 
of thing are immoral. It isn't that the people who 
pro- vide it are wicked exploitcrs; mos t of them 
are of the  same mind as thc exploited, if only on a 
more expen - sive horse in chis sorry -go-round. The real trouble is  chat they are ali cotally 
frustrated, for trying to please  che brain is like 
trying to drink through your ears. Thus  they  are 
increasingly  incapable  of real  plcasure,  
62 THE  WISUOM  OF THE  BODY  
insensitive to the most acute and subtle joys of 
life which  are in fact excremely  common  and 
simple. The vague, ncbulous, and insatiable character 
of brainy desire makes it particularly hard to 
come  clown to eanh -to be material and real. Generally  speaking, the civilized man <loes not 
know what he  wants. He works  for success,  fame,  a 
happy  marriage,  fun, to help other pcople, or to 
be a "real person. " But thcse are not real wants 
because they are not ac - tual things. They  are the 
by-products,  the flavors  an d atmosphcres of real 
things -shadows which havc no existence apart 
frorn  some substance. Money is the  perfect  
symbol  of ali such  desires,  being  a mere  s y m- bol of 
real wealth, and to make it one's goal is thc 
most blatant example of confusing 
measurcments  with  reality. lt is thcrcforc  far (rom  correct  10 say that modern  
civilization  is materialistic,  that  is, i( a 
materialist  is 
a person  who  loves  matter. The  brainy  modern  
loves  not matter but measures, no solids but 
surfaces. He  drinks for the percentage of alcohol 
("spirit") and not for the "body" and taste of the 
liquid. He builds  to put up an impressive  " front" 
rather  than  to pro- vide  a spacc  for living. Thercfore  he tends  to put up structures which 
appear from the outside to be ba - ronial 
mansions but are inwardly warrens. Thc in - 
dividual living -units in these wanens are 
designed  less  for living  as for creating  an 
impression. The  THE  WISDOM  OF INSECURITY  
main space is devoted to a "living room" of 
propor - tions suitablc  to a large house, while such 
essential  spaccs  for living  (rather  than  mere  
"entertaining'')  as the kitchcn are reduced to small 
closets where one can hardly  move -much  less 
cook. Consequently  these  wretchcd  little  galleys  
provide  fare  which  is chieAy  gaseous -cocktails  
and "appetizers"  rather  than honcst meals. Because we ali want to be "ladies  and gentlemen"  
and look as if we  had servants,  we do not soil our 
hands with growing and cooking real  food. Instcad 
we buy products dcsigned for "front"  and 
appe arancc  rathcr  than  content -immensc  and 
tasteless fruit, bread which is little more than a 
light  froth,  wine  faked  with  chemicals,  and 
vegetables  flavored with the arid concoctions of test 
tu bes which  render  them  so much  impressive  
pulp. One might suppose Lhat Lhe most outright 
example  of civilizcd  man's  beastliness  and 
animality  is his passion for sex, but in fact there is 
almost nothing  beastly or animal about it. Animals 
have sexual in - tercourse  when they feel like it, 
which is usually in  sorne  sort  of rhythmic  pattern. Between  whiles  it does not intercst them. But of 
ali pleasures sex is the  one which the civilizcd man 
pursucs with the great - est anxicy. That  the 
craving  is brainy  rather  than  bodily is shown  by 
the common  impotence  of the  male when he 
comes to the act, his brain pursuing  what ·his 
genes do not at  the moment desire. This  confuses  
him  hopelessly,  bccause  he simply  cannot  
64  THE  WISDOM  OF THE  BODY  
understand  not wanting  the great  delicacy  of sex 
when it is available. He has becn hankering after it  
for hours and days on end, but when the realily ap•  
pears  bis body  will not co-operatc. As in eating his "eyes are biggcr than his stomach,"  
so in love he judges woman by standards that are  
largely visual and cerebraÍ ·ráther than sexual and 
visceral. He is attracted to his partner by the surface  
gloss, by the film on the skin rather than  the real  
body. He wants somelhing with abone structure  likc 
a boy's which  is supposed to support  the exterior  
curves and smooth undulations of femininity -not a  
woman but an inflated rubber <lream. The function  
of sex itself remains, however, so much  in che domain  
of "instinctual wisdom" that liule  can be done to in - 
crease its already intense pleasure, to make it faster,  
fancicr, and more frcquent. The only means of ex - 
ploiting it is through cerebral fantasy, through sur - 
rounding it with coquetterie and suggestions of un - 
specified delights to come -as if a more ecstatic em - 
brace could always be arranged through surface al - 
terations. A particularly significant example of brain against  
body, or measures against  matter,  is urban  man's  
total slavcry to clocks. A dock is a convenicnt device  
for arranging to meet a friend, or for helping people  
to do things together, although  things of this kind  
happened  long  befare  they  were  invented. Clocks  
should  not be smashed;  they  should  simply  be kept  
65 THE  WISDOM  OF INSECURITY  
in their  place. And  they are very  much  out of 
place  when  we try to adapt  our biological  
rhyLhms  of eal- ing, sleeping,  evacualion,  
working, and relaxing to their  uniform  circular  
rotation. Our slavery  to thesc  mcchanical  drill  
masters  has gone  so far and our whole  culture  
is so involved  with  it that  reform  is a forlorn 
hope;  without  them civilization  would col- lapse 
entirely. A less brainy culture would learn  to 
synchronize  its body rhythms rather than  its 
clocks. The capacity of the brain to foresee the 
future has  much  to do with  the fear  of death. Onc  knows  of 
many  pcople  who  would  have  said  with  
Slevenson,  
Under the  wide  and  starry  sky 
Dig me a grave  and let me 
líe; 
Glad  did I  live and gladly die,  
And  l laid  me down  with  a 
will. For when thc body is worn out and thc brain is 
tired,  the whole organism welcomes death. But it 
is diffi - cult to understand how death can be 
welcome when  you are young and strong, so that 
you come to regard  itas a dread and lerrible 
event. For the brain, in its immalerial way, looks 
imo Lhe future and conceivcs  it a good  to go on 
and on and  on forever -not realiz - ing that its own  
material woqJd  at last  find  the process 
intolerably tiresome. Not taking this into ac- 
count, the brain fails to see that, being itself 
material  and subject to change, its desires will 
change, and a  time  will come  when  death  will be 
good. On a bright  
66 THE  WISDOM  OF THE  BODY  
morning, afcer a good night's rest, you do noc want 
to go to sleep. But after a hard  day's work  the 
scnsation  of dropping  into  unconsciousness  is 
extraordinarily  pleasant. Unfonunately,  not very  many  of us die peace - 
Eully. We die through accidents and painEul 
diseases,  and il  is cragic indeed  when  a person  
whose  "mind"  is still young  and alert  struggles  
usclessly with  a dy - ing body. J am surc, however, 
that the body dies be - cause it wants to. ll finds it 
beyond  its power to resist  the disease or to mend  
thc injury,  and so, tired  out with the struggle, turns 
to death. If the consciousness  were  more  scnsitive  to 
the feelings  and impulses  of the whole organism,  it 
would  share  this desire,  and,  indeed, sometimes does 
so. We come close  to it when,  in serious sickness, 
we would justas soon die, though  sometimes  wc 
survive,  either  because  medical  treat - ment 
reinvigorates che body, or beca use therc are still  
unconscious forces in the organism which are abl e to 
heal. Accustomed,  as it is, to think  of man  as a 
dualism  
of mind and body, and to regard the former as "sen - 
sible"  and the latter as a "dumb" animal,  our 
culture  is an affront  to the wisdom of nature and a 
ruinous  exploitation of the human  organism  as a 
wholc. Wc are perpetually frustrated because che 
verbal and ab - stract thinking of the  brain  gives  che 
false  impression  of being  able  to cut loose  from  
ali finite  limitations. lt forgets  that  an infinity  of 
anything  is not a reality  
67  THE  WISDOM  OF INSECURITY  
but an abstract concept, and persuades us that we 
de- sire this fantasy  as a real  goal  of living. The externalized symbol of this way of thinking 
is that  almost  entirely  rational  and inorganic  
object,  the rnachine, which gives  us the scnse of 
being able  to approach infinity. For the machine 
can submit to  strains far beyond the capacity of 
the body, and to  monotonous rhythms which the 
human being could  never stand. Useful as it would 
be as a tool anda serv - ant, we worship its 
rationality, its efficiency, and its power to abolish 
limitations of time and space, and thus pcrmit  it to 
regulare our lives. Thus  the work - ing inhabitantS 
of a modern city are people who live inside a 
machine to be batted aroun d by its wheels. They 
spend their days in activities which largely boil  
clown  to counting and  measuring,  living in a 
world  of rationalized abstraction  which  has little  
relation  to or harmony with the great biological 
rhythms and  processes. As a matter of fact,  mental activities of this kind  
can now be done far more efficiently by  machines  
than by men -so much so  that in a not  too distant  
future thc human brain may be an obsolete 
mecha - nism for logical calculation. Already the 
human com - puter  is widely  displaced  by 
mechanical  and elec - trical computers of far 
greater speed and  efficiency. If, then, man's 
principal asset and value is his brain  and his 
ability to calculate, he will become an unsale - able  
commodity  in an era when  the mechanical  op- 
68 Tll. E  WISDOM  OF THE  BODY  
eration of rcasoning can be done more cffectively by 
machincs. 1 
Already man uses innumerable gadgets to displace  
thc work done by bodily organs  in thc animals, and  
it wo11ld surely be in linc  with this tcndcncy to cx - 
ternali1. c  thc reasoning íunctions of the brain -and 
chus han<l over the government  of life  to elcctro - 
magnctic monsters. In other words, thc intereses and  
goals oí rationality are not those of man as a wholc  
organism. I( we are Lo cominue to livc for the future,  
and Lo rnakc thc chie( work o( thc mine. precliction  
ami calculation, man must cvcntually become a para - 
sitie  appcndage  to a mass  of clockwork. Thcre  is, indeed,  a viewpoint  from  which  this 
"rationalization" of Iife is not rational. The brain is  
clcvcr enough Lo scc thc vicious circlc which it has  
madc for itself. llut it can do nothing abom it. Sccing  
that iL is unrcasonaule to \l"OtT)' does not stop worry - 
ing; rathcr,  you worry  thc more  al bcing  unrcason - 
1 I takc my fact, on this maucr  írom  Norbcn  Wicncr·s  rcmark - 
able book  Cy bern etics  (New  York  &: Paris. 19 ¡8). Dr. Wiener  is 
onc of thc mathcm:llicia11s chiefly rcsponsible for thc dcvclopmcnt  
oí the more  elaboratc  clectrical  computcrs. l laving  likcwisc  an 
adva11,ccl knowledgc of 11c11rolo6y,  he i, well :1blc 10 ju<lgc thc 
cxtcnt  10 which  1hc1c  invcntions  c;rn n:produrc  thc work  of thc 
human organi>m. 1lis book contaim thc following pcnincnt ob - 
scrvation: "lt  is intcresting w note th,11 wc m:,y he facing onc of  
those limi1:1tions of nature. in whirh highly spcciali1ed organs  
n:ach :, leve. o[ dcclining cfücicnry. and  ullimatcly lcad  to the  
cxtinc1ion  of che specics. Thc human  brnin   may be  as far along  
on its road to this dcstructivc spcciali1. a1ion  as the great nose  
horns  of thc last of thc litanmhcrc<. " (p. 1So. ) G9 THE  WJSOOM  OF INSECURITY  
able. It is unreasonable to wage a modern war,  in 
which everybody loses. Neither side actually 
wants a  war, and yet, because we livc in a vicious 
circle, we  start the war to prevent the other side 
from starting  first. We arm ourselves knowing 
that  if we do not,  the other  side  will-which  is 
quite  true,  because  if we do not arm the ocher 
side will do so to gain its  advantage  without  
actually  fighting. From this rational point of view we find 
ourselves  in the dilemma of St. Paul -"To will is 
present with  me; but how to perform that which  
is good I find  not. For the good that I would l do 
not. " But this is  not, as St. Paul  supposed,  because  
the will or the "spirit" is rcasonable and the flesh 
perverse. le is be - cause "a house divided against 
itself cannot stand. " The whole organism is 
perverse bccause the brain i s split from the bclly 
and the head unconscious of its  union  with  the 
tail. There are few grounds for hoping that, in any 
im- mediatc future, there will be any recovery of 
social  sanity. lt would seem that the vicious circle 
muse be - come yet more intolerable, more 
blatantly and des - perately circular beforc any 
large numbers of human  beings awaken to the 
tragic trick which they are play - ing on thernselves. Bu Lfor those  who sce  clcarl y thac  it is a circle and 
why ir  is a circle, there is no altema - tive bue to 
stop circling. For as soon as you see the  whole  
circle,  the illusion  that  che head is separate  from  
che tail disappears. THE WISDOM  OF THE BODY  
And then, when experience stops oscillating 
and writhing, it can again become sensitive  to the 
wis- dom of thc body, to the hidden depths of its 
own sub - stance. Becausc I speak of the wisdom of thc bod y and 
of the necessity for recognizing that we are 
material,  this is not to be taken as a philosophy of 
"material - ism" in thc accepted sense. I am not 
asserting that the  ultimatc rcality is matter. Maller 
is a word, a noise,  which rcfers  to the forms and  
patterns  taken by a  process. We do not know  what  
this process  is, because  it is nota "what" -that is, a 
thing definablc by sorne  fixed concept or mcasure. If we wam to keep the old  language,  still using 
such  terms  as ''spiritual"  and "material,"  the 
spiritual  must  mean  "the  indefin - able,"  that  
which,  because  it is living,  must  evcr  escape thc 
[ramework of any fixcd form. Matter is  spirit  
namcd. Aftcr  ali Lhis,  thc brain  dcscrvcs  a word  for 
itselfl  
For thc brain, including its reasoning and calculat•  
ing centers, is a pan and product of che body. It is 
as natural as the heart and stomach, and, rightly 
used, is  anything  but an enemy  of man. Ilut to be 
used  rightly it must be put in its place, for the 
brain  is made forman, not man for his brain. In 
other words,  the function of thc brain is to serve 
che prcsent and the real,  not to send  man  chasing 
wildly after  thc phantom  of the futurc. Furthcrmore,  in our habitual  state  of mental  
ten- THE  WISOOM  OF INSECURJTY  
sion lhe  brain does not work properly, and this is one  
reason why its abstractions seem LO have so great a  
realily. Whcn the hcan is out of ordcr, wc are clearly  
conscious of  its beating;  it bccomes  a distraction,  
pounding within lhc breast. lt scems most probable  
that our preoccupation with thinking and planning,  
togethcr with  the sense of mental  fatigue,  is a sign  
of sorne disorder of the brain. The brain should, and  
in sorne cases <loes, calculate and reason with the un• 
conscious case o( che  other bodily organs. After all,  
the brain is nota muscle, and is thus not dcsigned for  
effon  and strain. But whcn people try to think or concentrate, thcy  
behave as if they were trying to push  their brains  
around. They screw up their faces, knit thcir brows,  
and approach mental problems as if they wcre some - 
thing likc  heaving bricks. Yet you do not have  to 
grind  and strain  LO digcst  íood,  and still lcss to scc, 
hear,  a11CI reccivc  other  ncural  imprcssions. Thc  
"lightning  calculator"  wfio can sum  a long  column  
of figures ata glance, the intellcctual gcnius who can  
comprchcnd a wholc page of rcading in  a few scc - 
onds, and the musical prodigy, such as  lozart,  who  
seems to grasp harmony and countcrpoint from baby - 
hood, are examplcs of che propcr use oí man's most  
marvclous  instrumcnc. Those o( us who are not geniuses know something  
of thc same ability. Take for cxample thc anagram  
l'OCATEJ. 0JMC. You  can work  ovcr  thcse  lcuers  for 
72 THE  WISDOM  OF THE  BODY  
hours,  trying system  after system  of rearrangement  
in order  to discover  tbe scrambled  word. Try,  in- 
stead,  just looking  at the anagram  with  a relaxed  
mind,  and in a very short space  of time  your  brain  
will deliver  the answer  without  tbe sligbtest  effort. 1 
We rightly  mistrust  the ··snap"  answers of strained  
and wandering  minds,  but che rapid,  cffortless,  and 
almost  unconscious  solution  of logical  problems  is 
what  the brain  is supposed  to <leliver. Working rightly, tbe brain is thc highest form of  
"instinctual wisdom. " Thus il should work like the  
homing instinct of pigeons and thc forrnalion of the  
foetus in the womb -,vithout verbalizing the process  
or knowing  "how"  it <loes  it. The  self-conscious  
brain, like the self -conscious heart, is a disorder, and  
manifests itself in the acute fecling of separation be - 
twcen "I" and my experience. The brain can only as - 
sume its proper behavior when consciousness is doing  
what it is designed for: not writhing and whirling to  
get out of present experience, but being effortlessly  
aware  of it. 1 If you don't  succecd  within  one minute,  read  onl Otherwisc  
you will  begin to be annoycd cither with yoursclf, or with  me, and  
thc consequcnt  strain  will intcrícrc  with  thc process. 73  
 
V. ON B E I N G  A W A R E   
 
T H E QUESTION  "WMAT  SHALL  WE  DO  ABOUT  IT. " IS 
only asked by those who do not understand the 
prob - lem. If a problem can be solved at all, to 
undersrand  it and to know what to do about it are 
the same thing. On the other hand, doing 
something about a prob - lem which you do not 
understand is Iike trying to  clear away darkness 
by thrusting it aside with your  hands. When light 
is brought, thc darkncss vanishes  at once. This applies particularly to che problem now 
be- fore us. How are we to heal che split 
between 'T' and "me," the brain and the body, 
man and nature,  and bring all  the vicious circles 
which  ic produces  to an end. How are we to 
expcrience  life as something  other than a honey 
trap in which we are the strug - gling flies. How 
are we to find security and peace of mind in a 
world whose very nature is insecurity, im- 
permanence, and unceasing change. Ali these 
ques - tions demand a method and a course of 
action. At  the same time, all of them show that the 
problem has not been understood. We do not 
need action -yet. We need  more  light. Light,  here,  meaos  awareness -to be aware  of 
life,  
of experience  as it is at this  moment,  without  
any judgments  or ideas  about  it. In other  
words,  you  
75 THE  WlSOOi \l OF INSl:'. CURITY  
have  to sec and  feel what you are experiencing as 
it is, and notas it is named. This very simple 
"opening  of the cyes"  brings  about  the most  
extraorclinary  transformation  of undcrstanding  
and living,  and shows that rnany of our mase 
batlling problcrns are  pure illusion. This may 
sound like an over -simplifica - tion because most 
people imagine themselves to be  fully enough 
aware of che present already,  but we  shall  sec that  
this is far from  true. 1 
Because awareness is a vicw of reality  free  from  
ideas and judgments, it is clearly impossible to 
define  an<l writc clown what it reveals. Anything 
which can  be described is an idea, and I cannot 
makc a positive  statement about something -the 
real world -which is notan idea. I shall therefore 
havc to be content with  talking about thc false 
imprcssions,,vhich awareness  removes, rather 
than che truth which it reveals. The  latter can 
only be symbolized with words which mean  littlc  
or nothing  to those without  a direct  under - 
standing  of the truth  in question. What  is true  and positive  is roo real  and too 
living  
to be described, and ro try to describe it is like 
put- ting red paint on a red rose. Therefore most 
of what  follows will havc to havc a rathcr negative 
quality. The truth  is revealed by removing things 
that stand  in its light, an art not unlike sculpturc, 
in which the anist  creares,  not by building,  but 
by hacking  away. 1Thc word ":iwarencss"  is used in the sense givcn  10 it by J. Krishnamurti, whose writings discuss this thcme with 
cxtraordi - nary  pcrception. ON BEINC  AWARE  
We saw that the questions about finding security  
and peace of mind in an impermanent world showed  
that the problem had not becn understood. Before  
going any funher, it must be clcar LhaL the kind of  
securily we are talking about is primarily spiritual  
and psychological. To exist  at ali, human  beings  
musl havc a minim um livelihood in terms of food,  
drink,  and clothing -,vith  the understanding,  how - 
ever, that it cannot last indefinitely. But if the as - 
surance  of a mínimum  livelihood  for sixLy  years  
would even  begin  LO saLisfy the heart of man, human  
problems would amounc to vcry liule. Incleed, thc  
very reason why we do not have this assurance is that  
we want so much more than the mínimum neces - 
sities. It musl be obvious, from the start, that there is a  
contradiclion in wanting to be perfectly sccure in a  
univcrsc whosc vcry naturc is momentariness and 
íluidity. I3uL  thc contradicLion  lies a liulc  decper  
than the mere conflict between thc desire for security  
and the /acl of change. If I want tO be secure, that is,  
protecte <l from the flux of life, I am wanting to be  
separate from life. Yet it is t. his very scnse o[ scparate - 
ness  wh ich  makcs  me fcel insecure. To be sccure  
means to isolale and fonify Lhc ". ," but it is jusL the  
fecling of bcing an isolatecl "1" which makcs me feel  
loncly and afraid. In Olher words,  Lhe more security  
I can get, thc more  I shall  want. To put it still more  plainly:  Lhe desirc  for sewriLy  
77 TIIE  WlSDOM  OF JNSECURITY  
ánd the fecling  of insecurity are the same thing. To hold your  breath  is to lose  your  breath. A 
society  based  on the qucst  for security  is nothing  
but a breath -retention contest in which everyonc 
is as taut  as a drum  and as purple  as a bcct. We look Cor this sccurity by fonifying and 
enclos - ing ourselves  in innumerable  ways. Vve 
want  the protection of being  "exclusive"  and 
"special,"  seek - ing to belong to the safest church,  
the best nation,  the highest class, the right set, 
and the "nice" peoplc. Thesc dcfenscs lcad to 
divisions bcL1vccn us, and so to more  insecurity  
dcmanding  more  dcfenses. Of course it is all clone 
in the sincere belief that we are  trying to do che 
rigln things and livc in the best way;  but this,  too, 
is a contradiction. 1can  only  think  seriously  of trying  to livc up 
toan  
ideal, to improve mysel(, if I am split in two picccs. Thcre  must  be a good. 1. who  is going  to improvc  
thc bad  "me. " "I," who has the bcst  intcntions, 
will go to work on wayward ··me," an<l the tusslc 
betwccn  the two will very much stress the 
differencc between  them. Consequcntly ". " will 
fcel more separate than  evcr, ancl so mcrcly 
increasc thc lonely ancl cut -off feelings  which  
rnakc  "me"  bchavc  so badly. Wc can hardly  bcgin  10 considcr  this problem  
un- 
lcss it is clear that thc craving for sccurity is itself 
a pain and a contradiction, and that thc more we 
pur- sue it, the more painful it becomes. This is 
true in  whatcvcr  form  sccurity  may  be conccivcd. ON BEING  AWARE  
You want to be happy, to forget yourself, and 
yét the more you try to forget yourself, the more 
you remembcr the self you wam to forget. You 
want to escape from  pain, but thc more you 
struggle to  escape, the more you inflame the 
agony. You are  afraid and wam ro be brave, but 
thc efTort to be brave is fcar trying to run away 
from itself. You want  peace of mind, but the 
auempt to pacify it is like trying to calm  the 
waves  with  a flat-iron. We are all familiar with this kind of vicious 
circle  in the form of worry. We know that 
worrying is  futile, but we go on doing it bccause 
calling it futilc  does not stop ir. \Ve worry 
because we feel unsafc,  and want to be safe. Yet 
it is perfectly useless to say  that we should not 
want to be safe. Calling a desirc  bad names 
doesn't get rid of it. What we have to dis - cover is 
that therc is no safety, that seeking it is pain - ful, 
and that when we imagine that  we havc found it, 
we don't like it. In othcr words, if wc can really 
un- derstand what we are looking for -that safery 
is isola - tion,  and what  we do to ourselves  when  
we look  for it 
-we shall see that we do not want it at all. No 
one has to tell you that you sho11ld not hold your 
breath  for ten minutes. You know that you can't 
do it, and  that  the attempt  is most  
uncomfortable. Thc principal thing is to understand that therc 
is no safcty or security. One of thc  worst vicious 
circlcs  is the problem of the alcoholic. In very many 
cases he  knows  quite  clearly  that  he is 
destroying  himself,  
79 THE  WISD01 \I  OF  INSl:'. CURITY  
that, for him, liquor is poison, that he actually 
hatcs  being drunk, and cven dislikes the taste of 
liquor. And yet he drinks. For, dislike itas he 
may, the ex - pericncc of not drinking is worse. 1t givcs him thc  '"horrors," for he stands face to 
facc with the un - vcilccl,  basic  insecurity  of the 
world. Herein lies thc crux of the matter. To stand 
face  to face with insecurity is still not to 
understand it. To understand  il, )'O U must  not  face 
it but be  it. It is likc the Pcrsian story of thc sagc 
who carne to thc  door oíl lcavcn  and knocked. From withi11 thc voicc  o( God askcd, '"\\lho is 
thcrc" and rhe sagc answcrcd,  "lt is  J. " "In this l 
lousc," replied  the voicc,  "there  is no room for 
thce and me. " So the sage went away,  and spem 
many ycars pondcring over this answer in  deep 
mcclitation. Rcturning a second time, the voicc  
asked thc same question, and again the sage an - 
swercd, "Jt is l. " The door remained closed. After  some ycars he rcLUrncd for thc third time, 
and, at his  knocking, the voicc once more 
demanded, '"Who is there. " Ancl tlie sage cried, 
"lt is thysel(. " The <loor  was  openccl. To undcrstand  that  thcre  is no security  is far 
more  
than 1. 0 agrce with thc thcory that ali things 
change. more cvcn than 10 observe 1hc  
transiLOrincss of life. Thc notion of sccurity is 
bascd on thc fccling that  thcrc is something 
within us which is pcrmancnt,  somcthing "·hich 
endures through ali thc days and  changes  of 
life. \Ve are struggling  to make  sure  of 
Ro ON BEING  AWARE  
Lhe permanence, concinuity, and safety of this 
endur - ing core,  this center and soul  of our being 
which  we call "l. " For this  we think  to be che real 
man -the thinker  of our thoughts,  the feeler  of 
our feelings,  and the knower  of our knowledge. \Ve 
do not ac- tually  understand  that  thcre  is no 
security  until  we realize  that  this "I" <loes  not 
exist. Understanding comes  through  awareness. Can 
we, then,  approach  our expericnce -our  sensations,  
feel- ings,  and thoughts -quite simply,  as if wc  had 
never  known  them  before,  and,  without  prcjudice,  
look  at what  is going on. You  may  ask, "Which  
experiences,  which  sensations  and feelings,  shall  
we look  at. " I will answer,  "Which  ones  can you 
look  at. " The an- swer  is that  you must  look  at the 
ones  you have  now. That  is surely  rather  obvious. Bue  very  obvious  things  are often  overlookcd. If a 
feeling  is not pres - cnt, you are not awarc  of it. There  is no expcrience  but present  expcrience. What  you know,  what  you are actually  aware  of, 
is just what  is happening  at this 
moment,  and no more. 13ut  what  about  mcmories. Surely  by 
remember - ing 1 can also know what  is pase. Very 
well,  remem - bcr something. Remember  the 
incident  of secing  a fricnd walking down  the strcet. What  are you  aware  of. You are not  acLUally  
watching  the veritable  evenc  of your fricnd walking 
clown  che strcct. You can't go  up and shakc hands 
with hirn, or get an answer to a  question  you forgot  
to ask hirn  at the pase  time  you 
81 TIIE  WISDOM  OF INSECURITY  
are remembering. In other words, you are not 
look - ing at the actual past at ali. You are looking 
at a present  trace  of the past. lt is likc seeing the tracks of a bird on the 
sand. I see the prcsent tracks. I do not, at thc sarne 
time, see  the bird making those tracks an hour 
befare. The  bird  has flown,  and I am not aware  of 
hirn. From  the tracks I infer that a bird was there. From memories  you infer that there have been 
past events. But you  are not aware of any past 
events. You know the past  only  in thc prcscm  
ancl  as parto(  thc present. Wc are seeing, then, that our expericnce is 
alto - gethcr momentary. From one point of 
view, each  momcnc is so elusive and so brief that 
we cannot even  think about it befare it has gane. From another point  of view, this rnoment is 
always here, since we know  no other moment 
than the present moment. lt is al - ways dying, 
always becoming pase more rapidly than  
imagination can conceive. Yct at the same time it 
is always being born, always new, emerging just 
as rapidly from that complete unknown which 
we call  the futurc. Thinking about it almost  
makes you  breathless. To say that experience is momentary is rcally 
to say that experience and the present moment 
are the  samc ching. To say that  this momcnt  is 
always dying,  or becoming past, and always being 
born, or corning  out of the unknown, is to say the 
same thing of ex- perience. The  expericnce  you 
have  just had  has van- 
82 ON BEING  AWAR. E  
ished irretrievably, and all that remains of it is a sort  
of wake  or track  in the present,  which  we call 
memory. While you can make a guess as to what ex- 
pericnce is coming nexc, in actual  fact you do not  
know. Anything might  happcn. But the cxpcrience  
which is going on now is, as ir were, a newborn in - 
fant which vanishes be(ore it can even begin to gct  
older. While you are watching this present experience,  
are you aware of someone watching it. Can you 6nd,  
in addition to thc cxpcrience itsclf, an expericncer. Can you, at the same time,  read this scntence and  
think  about  yoursclf  reading  it. You will find  that,  to 
think about yourself reading it, you muse for a brief  
second stop reading. The first experience is reading. The second experiencc is the thought, "I  am read - 
ing. " Can you find any thinker, who is thinking thc  
thought, "I am reading. " ln othcr words, when pres - 
ent cxpcriencc  is the  thought,  "l am rcading," can  
you think  about  yoursclf  thinking  this thought. Once again,  you muse stop  thinking just,  "I am 
reading. " You pass to a third expcrience,,vhich is the  
thought, "l  am thinking that  I am reading. " Do not  
lct thc rapidity with which Ihcsc thoughts can change  
deceivc you in1. o tite fccling that you think thcm ali  
at once. But what has happened. Never al any time wcre  
you able  to separate  yourself  from  your  present  
thought,  or your  present  cxperience. The  first  pres - 
83 TJIE  WISDOM  OF INSEClJRITY  
ent experience was reading. When you lried to 
think  about yourself reading, the experience 
changed, ancl  the next present experience was 
the thought "l am  reading. " You could not 
separate yourself from this  experience without 
passing on to another. lt was  "ring around 1. he 
rosy. " When you were thinking, "I am reading this 
sentence" you were not reading it. In  other 
words, in each present experience you were  
only aware of that experience. You were never 
awarc  of bcing aware. You werc ncver able to 
separatc the  thinkcr from  thc thought,  the 
knower  from  the known. All you ever found was a 
new thought, a new  experience. To be aware, then, is to be aware of thoughts, 
feel- ings, sensations, desires, and ali other forms 
of ex - perience. Nevcr at any time are you aware 
oE any- thing which is not cxpcrience, nota 
thought or feel - ing, but instead an experiencer, 
thinker, or feelcr. lf this is so, what makes us 
think that any such thing  exists. We might  say,  for cxample,  that  the 'T' who  is 
the 
thinker is this physical body and brain. llut this 
body  is in no way separate from its thoughts and 
scnsa - tions. Whcn you have a sensation, say, of 
touch,  that sensation is pan of your body. While 
that sensation  is going on, you cannot move the 
body away from it  any more than you can walk 
away from a headache  or from your own feet. So 
long as it is present, that  sensation  is your  body  
and is you. You  can removc  ON BEING  AWARE  
the body from an uncomfortable chair, but you 
can- not move  it from  the sensation  of a chair. The nolion  of a separate  thinker,  of an "l" dis- 
tinct from the experience, comes from mcmory 
and from the rapidity with which thought changcs. lt is  like whírling  a burning stick to give the 
illusion of a  continuous circle of ti. re. If you 
imagine that memory  is a direcc knowledge of che 
pase rather chan a present  experience, you get the 
illusion of knowing the past  and the prescnt at the 
same time. This suggests t hat there is something 
in you dislinct from both the past  and che present 
experiences. You  reason,  "I know  chis present 
experience, and it is different from that  past 
experience. If 1 can compare the two, and notice  
that experience  has changed,  I muse  be something  
constant  and apart. " But,  as a matter  of fact,  you cannot  compare  this 
present experience with a pase experience. You 
can only compare it with a memory of the past, 
which is a  parl of lhe presenl experience. When you 
see clearly  chat memory is a form of present 
experience,  it will  be obvious that trying to 
separate yourself from this  experience  is as 
impossible as trying to make your  teeth  bite 
themselves. There  is simply  experience. There is 
not something or someone experiencing ex - 
perience. You do not fccl feelings, think thoughts, 
or sense sensations any more than you hear 
hearing, see  sight,  or smell smelling. "I feel fine"  
means  that a fine feeling  is present. It does  not 
mean  that  there  is 
85 THE  WISDOM  OF INSECURITY  
one thing called an  "I" and another separate  thing  
called a feeling,  so that  when  you bring  them  to- 
gether this 'T' feels  the fine feeling. There  are no 
fcelings but present feelings, and whatever feeling 
is prescnt is "I. '' No onc  ever found an 'T' apart 
from  sorne present experience, or sorne 
experience apart  from an "I"-which is only to say 
that the two are the  same  thing. As a mere  philosophical  argument  this is a waste  
of 
time. We are not trying to have an ''intellectual 
dis- cussion. " We are being awarc of the Cace that 
any separate  'T' who  thinks  thoughts  and 
experiences  expcricnce  is an  illusion. To 
undcrstand  this is  to realize that life is entirely 
momentary, that there is  neither permanence nor 
security,  and that  there  is no 'T' which  can be 
prote  ted. There  is a Chinese  story  o[ onc who  came  to a 
great sagc, saying, ·•¡ havc no peace of mind. Please  pacify  my mind. " The sage  answered,  
"Bring  out your mind (your T) bcfore me, and I 
will pacify it. " ''These many years,"  he replied,  "I 
have sought my  mind, but I cannot find it. " "There," concluded the sage,  "it is pacified. " The real rcason why human life can be so 
utterly  exasperating and frustrating is not beca  use 
therc are  faces  called  dcath,  pain,  fear,  or 
hunger. The mad - 
ness of the thing is that when such facts are 
present,  we circle, buzz, writhe, and whirl,  trying 
to get  the "I" out of the experience. We pretend  
thac  we are 
86 ON BEING  AWARE  
amoebas, and try to protect ourselves from life by  
splitting in  nvo. Sanily, wholeness, and  integration  
líe in the realization that wc are not clividcd, that  
man and his presem cxpcricncc are onc, and that no  
separa  te "l" or mind  can  be  found. While the notion that I am scparate from my ex- 
perience  remains,  there  is confusion  and turmoil. Because of this, therc is ncither awarencss nor under - 
standing oE experience, and thus no real possibility  
of assimilating it. To understand this momcnt l must  
not try to be divided from it; I must be aware of it  
with  my whole  being. This,  like rcfraining  from  
holding my breath for ten minutes,  is not something  
I should do. In reality, it is che only thing 1 can do. Everything else is the insanity of attempting the im - 
possible. To understand music, you must listen to it. But so  
long  as you are thinking,  " [ am listcning  to this 
music," you are not listening. To understand joy or  
fear, you  must be wholly and  undividedly aware of  
it. So long as you are calling it  na mes and  saying,  "I 
am happy," or "l am afraid," you are not being aware  
of it. Fcar, pain, sorrow, and boredom must remain  
problems if we do not understand thcm, but under - 
standing rcquires a single and unclividccl mine. This,  
surely, is the meaning of that strange saying, "If chine  
eyc be single,  thy whole  body  shall  be full of light. " VI. T H E  MARVELOUS  MOMENT   
 
You  ARE  LISTENING  TO A SONG. SUDOENLY  I ASK,  " A T   
this moment,   who  are you. " How  will you 
answer  this question immediately and 
spontaneously, with - out stopping  to find words. If the question  does  n o t shock  you out of listening,  
you will answer  by hum- ming che song. If the 
question surprised you, you will answer,  "At this 
moment,  who  are you. " But if you stop  to think,  
you will  try to tell me,  not about  this moment,  but 
about  the past. I shall  get informa - tion about  your  
name  and address,  your  business  a n d personal  
history. But I asked  who  you are,  not w h o you 
were. For to be aware of reality, of the living  
present,  is to discover  that at each  moment  the ex- 
perience is all. There is nothing else besidc it-
no experience  of. you"  expericncing  the  
cxperiencc. Even  in our most  apparendy  self-conscious  mo- 
ments,  the "self"  of which  we are conscious  is 
always  sorne particular feeling or sensation -of 
muscular  tensions,  of warmth  or cold,  of pain  or 
irritation,  of breath  or of pulsing  blood. There   is 
nevcr  a s e n s a - tion of what  scnses  sensations,  just 
as thcrc  is no meaning  or possibility  in thc notion  of 
smelling  one's  nose  or kissing  onc's  own  lips. In times  of happiness  and  pleasure,   we are  
u s u- ally ready  enough  to be awarc  of the 
moment,  and to 
89 THE  WISDOM  OF INSECURlTY  
let the experience be ali. In such moments we 
"for- get ourselvcs," and the mind makes no 
attempt to di- vide itself from itself, to be separate 
from experience. But with  thc arrival  of pain,  
whether  physical  or cmotional,  whether acLUal  or 
anticipated,  the split  begins  and che circle  goes  
round  and round. As soon as it becomes clear that 'T' cannot pos - 
sibly escape  from  the reality of che present, since  
'T' is nothing other than what l know now,  this 
inner  turmoil musl stop. No possibility remains 
but to be  aware of pain,  fear,  boredom, or grie[  in 
the same  complete  way  that  one is aware  of 
plcasure. The  human organism has the most 
wonderful powers of  adaptation to both physical 
and psychological pain. But these can only come 
into full play when che pain  is not being constantly  
restimulated  by this  inner  effort to geL away from 
it, to separate the  "I" from  Lhe feeling. The effort 
creares a state of tension in  whic h the pain thrivcs. But when the tension ceases,  mind and body begin 
to absorb che pain as }Vater re - acts  to a blow  or 
cut. There  is another  story  of a Chinese  sage  who  
was  
asked, "How shall wc escape thc heat. " -meaning, 
of course, thc heat of suffering. He answered, "Go 
right  into the middle of che firc. " ·'But how, then, 
shall we  escape che scorching flame. " "No further 
pain will  trouble you. " We do not need to go as far 
as China. The  same  idea  comes  in The Divine  
Comedy,  where  
 
90 THE  MARVELOUS  MOMENT  
Dante  and Virgil  find  that  the way  out of Hell  lies 
at its very  center. In moments of great joy we do not, as a rule, 
stop  to think, "I am happy," or, "This is joy. " Ordinarily,  we do not pause to think thoughts of 
this kind until  the joy is past its peak, or unless 
there is sorne anxiety  that it will go away. At such 
times we are so aware of the moment that no 
attempt is made to compare its  experience with 
other expericnces. For this reason  wc do not 
name it, for names which are not mere ex- 
clamations are bascd on comparisons. "Joy" is 
dis- tinguishecl from "sorrow" by contrast, by 
comparing  one state of mincl wich the other. Had we ncver  knovm joy, it would be impossible 
to identify sorrow  as sorrow. But in reality  wc cannot  compare  joy with  
sorrow. Comparison is possible only by thc very rapid 
alter - nation of two statcs of mind, ancl you 
cannot switch  back and fonh bctween thc 
gcnuinc feclings of joy  and sorrow as you can 
shift your eycs bctween a cat and a dog. Sorrow 
can only be compared wich che  memory of joy, 
which is not at all thc samc ching as joy itself. Like words,  mcmorics nevcr  renlly succccd in 
"catching" n:ality. , \lcmorics are somewhat 
abstract,  being a knowledgc aboul  1hings rathcr 
than of chings. Memory nevcr caplllres the 
esscnce, the present in - tensity,  the concrete  
reality  of an experience. lt is, as TJIE  WISOOM  OF INSECURITY  
it were, the corpse of an experience, from which 
the life has vanished. What  we know  by memory,  
we know only al secondhand. Memories  are dead  
be- cause  fixed. The memory  of your deceased 
grand - mother can only repeat what your 
grandmother was. But thc  real,  present 
grandmother could always  do or say someLhing 
new, and you,vere never absolutely  sure  what  she 
would  do next. There  are, Lhen,  two ways  of understanding  an 
ex- 
perience. The firsl is to compare it with the 
memories  of ocher expcriences, and so lO name 
and define il. This  is to imcrpret it in accordance 
wilh  che dead  and the pase. The second is  lO be 
aware  of it as it  is, as when, in the intensity of joy, 
we forget past and  future, let the present be all, 
and thus do not even  stop  to Lhink,  "I am 
happy. " Both  ways  of understanding  have  their  uses. fiul Lhey corrcspond to the difference  between  
knowing  a thing  by words  and knowing  it 
immec \iately. A menu  is very useful. but it is no 
substicute  for the dinner. A guidebook  is an 
admirable  tool,  but_ it is hardly LObe compared 
with  the country  it describes. Thc point,  then,  is 
that whcn wc try to understand  the prescm  by 
comparing  ic with  mernories,  we do nol 
u11derstand  itas deeply  as whcn  we are aware  of 
it withoul  comparison. This,  however,  is usually  
the way  in which  we approach  unpleasant  
expcriences. Instead  o( being  aware  of them  as 
Lhey  are, wc try to dcal ,·:ith  Lhcm  in tcrms  of thc 
pase. Thc frightenec1  THE  MARVELOUS  MOMENT  
or lonely person begins at once to think, 'Tm 
afraid,"  or, 'Tm  so loncly. " This is, of course, an auempt to avoid thc 
experi - cnce. We don't want to be awarc o{ this 
prcscnt. But  as we cannot get out of the present, 
our only escape is  into mcmories. Here we feel on 
safe ground, far the  past is the fixed and the 
known -but also, of course,  thc dead. Thus to try 
to get out of, say, fear we en - deavor at once to 
be separate from it and to "fix" it  by interprcting 
it in terms of mcmory, in tcrms of  what is 
already fixed ancl known. In ocher words, wc  try 
to adapt ourselves to the mystcrious prcscnt by  
comparing it with the (remembered) past, by 
naming  and  "identifying"  it. This  would  be all very  well  if you  were  trying  
to 
get away from something from which you can 
get away. lt is a useful process for knowing whcn to 
come  in out of the rain. Bue it does not tell you 
how to live  with things from which you cannot 
get away, which  are already pare of yourself. Your body does not  eliminate  poisons  by 
knowing  their  names. To try to control fear or 
depression or boredom by calling  them names 
is to resort to superstition of trust in curses  and  
invocations. lt is so casy to see why this does not work. Ob- viously, wc try to know, name, and define 
fear in  order to make it "objective," that is, 
separate from  "l. " Bue  why  are we trying  to be 
separate  from  fear. Because  we are afraid. In 
other  words,  fear  is trying  
93 TME  WISDOM  OF INSECURITY  
to separate itself from fear, as if one could fight 
fire with  fire. And this is not ali. The more we accustorn our - 
selves  LO understanding  the present  in terms  of 
memory,  the unknown by the known,  the living 
by the dead,  the more  desiccatcd  and embalrned,  
thc more  joyless  and frustrated  life bccomes. So 
pro- tected  from life, man becomes a sort of 
mollusc en - crusted in a hard shell of "tradition," 
so that when at last reality  breaks  through,  as it 
must,  che tide of  pent -up {ear  runs  wild. If, on the other hand, you are aware of fear, you  
realizc  that,  becausc  this feeling  is now  yourself,  
escape  is impossible. You  see that  calling  it "fear"  
tells you little or nothing about it, far the compari - 
son and the naming is bascd, not on past 
experience,  but on memory. You have then no 
choice bue to be  awarc of it with your whole bcing 
asan entircly new  expericnce. lndeed, every 
expcrience is in this sense  new, and at every 
moment of our lives we are in the midst of the 
new and  the únknown. At this point  you receive  
the experience  without  resisting  it or naming it, 
and the whole sense of conAict  between  'T' and 
the present  rcality  vanishes. Far most  of us this conAict  is ever  gnawing 
within  
us because our lives are one long effort to resist 
the unknown, the real present in which we live, 
which is the unknown in the midst of coming into 
being. Liv - ing thus,  we never  really  leam  to 
live with  it. At 
94 THE. MARVELOUS  MOMENT  
every moment we are cautious, hesitant, and on 
the defensivc. And all to no avail, for life thrusts 
us into  the unknown willy -nilly, and resistance is 
as futilc  and exasperaling as trying to swim 
against a roaring  torrent. Thc art of living in chis "predicament" is 
neicher  careless drifting on the one hand  nor 
fearful cling - ing to che past and che known on 
the ocher. le con - sists in being completely 
sensitive to each moment,  in regarding itas 
utterly ncw and unique, in having  the mind  
open  and wholly  rcccptive. This is not a philosophical theory but an 
experi - ment. One  has to make  the cxperiment  
to under - 
stand that it brings into play altogether new 
powers  of adaptation to life, of literally 
absorbing pain and  insecurity. le is as hard to 
describe how this absorp•  tion works as to 
explain the beating of one's heart or  the formation 
of genes. The "open" mind does this as  mosL of us 
breathe: withom l>eing able to explain it at all. The principie  of Lhe thing  is clearly  something  
like jiido, tbe gentle (j1t) way (do) of mastering an 
op- posing  force  by giving  in to it. The natural world gives us many examplcs of 
che great cfiectiveness of this way. The Chinese 
philoso - phy of which judo itself is an 
expression -Taoism - drew auention to che power 
of water to overcome al. obstaeles by its 
gentleness and pliability. It showed  how the 
supple willow survives the tough pine in a  
snowstorm,  for whereas  the unyielding  
branches  of 
95 THE  WJSDOM  OF INSECURITY  
the pine  accumulate  snow  until  they  crack,  the 
springy boughs of the willow bend under its 
weight,  drop  the snow,  and jump  back  again. If, whcn swimming, you are caught in a strong  
current, it is fatal to resise. You must swim with 
it and g radually edge to che side. One who falls from 
a hcight with stiff limbs will break them, but if 
he relaxes like a cat he will fall sa[ely. A building 
with - out "give"  in ils structure  will easily  
collapse  in storm or earthquake, and a car 
without the cushion - ing of tires and springs will 
soon come apart on the  road. The mind has just che same powers, for it has 
give  and can absorb shocks like water or a 
cushion. But chis giving way toan opposing force 
is not at all the  same thing as running away. A 
body of,vater <loes  not run away when you 
push it;  it simply gives at  thc poin  t of che push  
and endoses  yo ur hand. A shock  absorber does not 
fall clown likc a bowling -pin when  struck; it gives, 
and yet stays in the same place. To run away is  
the only defense  of something rigid  against an 
ovenvhelming force. Therefore the good  shock 
absorber has not only "give," but also stability  or 
"weight. " This  weight  is likewise  a function  of the mind,  
and 
appears in the much -misunderstood phenomenon 
of laziness. Significantly enough, nervous and 
frustrated  people are always busy, even in being 
idle, such idle - ness  being  the "laziness"  of fear,  
not of rest. But the 
96 TIIE  MARVELOUS  MOMENT  
mind -body  is a system  which  conserves and accumu - 
lates energy. '\Nhilc doing this it is propcrly 
lazy. When the energy is stored, it is justas happy to 
move,  and yet to move skillfully -along the line of 
least re - sistancc. Thus it is not only necessity, 
bue also lazi - ness, which is the mothcr of 
invention. One may ob - serve the unhurried, 
"heavy" movcmcms of a skillful  laborer at some 
hard task, and even in going against  gravity the 
good rnountaincer uses gravity, taking  slow, 
hcavy stridcs. He seems to tack up the slope,  like 
a sailboat  against  thc wincl. In the light of these principies, how <loes the 
mind  absorb suffering. It discovers  that 
resistance and escape -the ''J'' process -is a false 
move. The pain is inescapable, and resistance as a 
defense only makes it  worse; the whole systern is 
jarred by thc shock. Sce- ing the impossibility of 
this course, it muse act ac- cording to  its nature -
remain  stable  and absorb. To remain stablc  is to refrain from trying to 
sepa - rare yourself from a pain because you know 
that you  cannot. Running away from  fear is  fear,  
fighting pain  is pain,  trying  to be brave   is being  sea 
red. If the mind  is in pain, the mind is pain. The 
thinker has no othcr  form than bis thought. There is no escape. But so long as you are not 
aware of the inseparability of  thinkcr  and 
thought,  you will try to escape. From this follows, quite naturally, absorption. It is no effort; the mind does it by itself. Seeing 
that  there  is no escape  from  the pain,  the mind  
yields  to 
97 THE  WISDOM  OF JNSECURITY  
it, absorbs it, and becomes conscious of just 
pain  without any "I" fecling it or resisting it. It 
cxperi - ences pain in the same complete,  
unselfconscious way  in which it cxpcriences 
plcasure. Pain is the nature  of this present 
moment, and J can only live in this moment. Sometimes, when resistance ceases, the pain 
simply  goes away or dwindles toan easily 
tolerable ache. At other times it remains, but the 
absence of any resist - ancc brings about  a way of 
fccling pain  so unfamiliar  as to be hard to 
describe. Thc pain is no longer  problernatic. I 
fecl it, bue  there is no urge to get rid  of it, for  1 
have   cliscovered   that  pain  and  the effort  to be 
separa  te frorn   it are the same   thing. Wanting  to gel 
out of pain is the pain; it is not thc "reaction" of 
an "I" distinct from the pain. Section summary: 

* Author argues that humans lack genuine insight/wisdom concerning fundamental aspects
    * Emphasizes importance of embracing uncertainty/future. *
     Discusses consequences:
       • Civilizations led astray,
         + Cultivation & growth stunted

=====



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Last paragraphs focus mainly on explaining crucial notions relating directly;

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Author discusses multiple themes pertaining to perception/relation, highlighting potential flaws/mistrusting attempts
Final Thoughts:



From the original article, summarized notes provided provide concise insights. Original context emphasizes certain topics mentioned briefly later chapters XIV/XIX. ]





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The text suggests that the brain's rational thinking is actually counterproductive, leading to frustration and unhappiness. The author argues that the brain's function is to serve the body, not the other way around.
According to the text, what is the ultimate goal of the brain's rational thinking?
The author does not advocate for materialism, but rather argues that the emphasis on material possessions and desires is a source of unhappiness and insecurity.
What is the author's view on the concept of materialism?
The author suggests that it is impossible to define or understand experience, as it is constantly changing and cannot be captured by language or concepts. He argues that our attempts to define and understand it lead to frustration and unhappiness.
What is the author's stance on the idea of defining and understanding experience?
The author argues that there is no "I" or self, but rather, the experience is the only reality. He claims that the idea of a separate "I" is an illusion and that we must abandon this notion to find true peace and understanding.
What is the author's view on the concept of the "I" or the self?
The author argues that trying to escape or resist pain, fear, or other unpleasant experiences only leads to more pain and suffering. He suggests that instead, one must learn to absorb and accept the present moment, rather than trying to flee from it.
What is the author's stance on the concept of escape and resistance?