"Out of Your Mind" by Alan Watts, is a collection of his talks and seminars exploring Eastern philosophies, particularly Buddhism and Hinduism, and contrasting them with Western thought and conventional understanding. Watts aims to challenge common assumptions about consciousness, reality, and the self, offering alternative perspectives for a more fulfilling experience of life. Here's a detailed summary: Preface by Mark Watts: Mark Watts, Alan Watts's son, introduces the "Out of Your Mind" audio collection, which comprises recordings from six of his father's seminars in the late sixties and early seventies. These talks resonated with audiences by examining Asian wisdom through the lenses of Western psychology and emerging scientific understanding. Alan Watts often framed Buddhism as a form of psychotherapy rather than a Western-style religion, linking ecological awareness and mystical experience as similar forms of awakened experience. The talks challenged outdated Western common sense, demonstrating how "everyday reality" had become disconnected from contemporary knowledge. Watts offered psychological and cosmological solutions drawn from a Buddhist worldview, presenting a universe where humans are inseparable and welcome participants. The collection gained popularity, attracting a younger audience and inspiring social media content, showing the continued relevance of these ideas. Part One: The Nature of Consciousness - Chapter 1: Cosmological Models of the World: Watts introduces the concept of "myths" as powerful images we use to make sense of the world, arguing that Western common sense is influenced by two inadequate models. - The Ceramic Model: Originating from Genesis, this model views the world as an artifact created by a divine maker, much like a potter shapes clay. God is seen as an external intelligence imposing will upon primordial matter. This leads to the idea of humans as "made" things, distinct from their creator. This model arose from monarchical cultures, where the creator is king, and humans are subjects. Watts finds it odd that a democracy like the U.S. still holds to this monarchical view of the universe. Church architecture, both Catholic (basilica, house of the king) and Protestant (courthouse, reflecting a judge), often reflects this autocratic view. This model posits a spirit/matter split, but physics now describes matter in terms of behavior, form, and pattern, not fundamental "stuff". - The Fully Automatic Model: As Western thought evolved, the ceramic model was questioned. Eighteenth-century intellectuals doubted the necessity of a creator for universal laws, keeping the idea of law but discarding the lawmaker. This led to the view of the universe as a machine operating on clocklike, mechanical principles, with reality as blind, unintelligent energy. In this view, humans are flukes, and life is a struggle against a hostile nature. Watts argues that humans are not separate from nature but are an aspect or symptom of it, growing out of the physical universe like an apple from a tree. The feeling of being separate entities inside our skin is a superstition. He proposes that if there was a Big Bang, we are not just a result of it but are the process itself, the original force of the universe. The idea of separate things and events is an illusion; the physical world is "wiggly," and we use "nets" (like language and measurement) to try and grasp it, breaking it into bits that don't inherently exist separately. We are continuous with the universe, like a wave with the ocean. The feeling of alienation and unhappiness stems from these inadequate myths. Watts critiques the "prickly" (logical, analytical) versus "goo" (vague, idealistic) philosophical divide, stating life is both. He concludes that the fully automatic model is as much a myth as the ceramic one and that intelligence, love, and beauty in humans are symptomatic of the universe itself. We are interdependent systems; our skin is a bridge, not a barrier, and the world flows through us like water through a whirlpool. We urgently need to feel identical with the universe to avoid self-destruction. - Chapter 2: The Dramatic Model: Watts proposes an alternative to the ceramic and fully automatic models: The Dramatic Model, where the world is viewed as a drama. The fundamental game of this drama is hide-and-seek, a game understood even by babies who are recent incarnations of God and know it's the basic game. We are taught conflict (black versus white) instead of polarity (opposites that go together, like magnetic poles or self and other). In a Hindu context, realizing one is God isn't seen as insanity but as an awakening, because the Hindu idea of God is not autocratic. Humans demonstrate omnipotence in their bodily functions (growing hair, beating hearts, digestion) without conscious thought. Our culture overvalues what can be put into words or recorded, leading to a disconnect from actual experience. The evolution of self-consciousness led humans to stop trusting instincts and to worry excessively, as all variables in decisions are incalculable. We often value symbols (like money) more than reality (like the goods purchased). Awakening involves understanding that opposites imply each other (black/white, self/other, life/death) and feeling one's existence as fundamental—the fabric of existence itself. Hindu mythology sees the world as God's drama (Lila), where God (Satchitananda: being, consciousness, bliss) plays at not being God, abandoning and losing himself to experience being an individual. If one could dream any dream, after fulfilling all wishes, one would eventually seek surprise and adventure, ultimately dreaming the current life. The "person" (from persona, a mask) has come to mean who you genuinely are, forgetting it's a role in the drama. Watts encourages playing with the idea that the life you're living is what you've put yourself into, an optimal hypothesis for experiencing bliss through non-bliss. The central self (God) plays all parts in a game of hide-and-seek, eventually waking up. A guru is a teacher who helps you "wake up" by seeing through your pretense. Guilt and anxiety are ways of keeping the game going; spiritual paths often involve "paying a price" because we won't wake up until we feel we deserve it or the journey has been arduous enough. The fundamental question is whether you see yourself as a victim or as the world. - Chapter 3: The Eternal Transaction: In the dramatic myth, life is an act by the player, the Self (Atman), which is you, deliberately forgetting your true nature. The distinction between voluntary and involuntary actions is arbitrary; we don't fully know how we "decide" to make even a voluntary action like opening a hand, nor do we consciously control breathing all the time. When you realize you are all your bodily processes (circulation, etc.), you discover you are one with the universe; your circulation is continuous with the shining stars. Omnipotence is simply doing everything, not knowing how it's done in language. Consciousness is a specialized form of awareness; we see far more than we consciously notice. The fear of everlasting nonexistence after death is unfounded, as one cannot experience "nothing". The only experience possible after death is the same as what happened at birth; other beings born are "you," experienced one at a time. The ego is merely the focus of conscious attention, a troubleshooter; identifying with it means living in perpetual anxiety. When you cease identifying with the ego and realize you are the whole harmonious organism, even apparent discords (like microbes fighting in your bloodstream) are seen as harmony at a higher level. The ordinary, everyday consciousness is the brilliant light of the cosmos; an old paper cup is as bright as ten thousand suns in this realization. Light is evoked by the eye; hardness by soft skin; sound by the eardrum – we call the universe into being through our sensory apparatus. The human organism is how the universe realizes its own presence. Spiritual practices like yoga or meditation, if done to "achieve" this state, show a misunderstanding that it already is so. Trying to give up desire only leads to desiring not to desire. Gurus use tasks like "abandon your ego" to lead you to reductio ad absurdum, making you see the futility of such efforts by the "ego". When you look for your separate mind/ego hard enough, you find it isn't there. The idea that "this moment is eternity" is key; you don't need to do anything to change it. Zen shock treatments aim to bring you "here," as there's no road to where you already are. The desire to attain nirvana prevents its achievement because you already have it. When the distinction between voluntary and involuntary disappears, you realize you are "making" everything happen, but not in a crude, literal omnipotent sense. The external world is a neurological experience, but your skull is also in the external world; it's a transactional relationship, like buying and selling. The environment grows the organism, and the organism creates the environment; it's one process. Awakening involves re-examining common sense; it will become obvious that you are continuous with the universe, just as it's now common sense that the Earth is globular. Part Two: The Web of Life - Chapter 4: Levels of Perception: Human consciousness is selective, leaving out more than it takes in, including knowledge that could allay anxieties. The "lowdown" is that everyone is a manifestation of the entire cosmos (God, Brahman, Tao) but pretends not to be. Living on two levels at once—as an ordinary ego playing a role while understanding the "lowdown"—makes one a "really swinging human being". Otherwise, life becomes a drag of mere survival. Nature is spontaneous ("of itself so"); it doesn't need to be forced. We are apertures through which the cosmos experiences life, but we play the game of forgetting this and identifying only with the "little me" or ego. Holding both perspectives (individual and universal) brings joy and exuberance, seeing life's serious predicaments as a game. Perception of order and randomness alternates with levels of magnification, like viewing embroidery. Order and chaos, like on/off or life/death, constitute existence; they are interdependent. Death is an interval, an aspect of the wave; sound is sound/silence. The intervals between notes make music significant. Existence is a function of relationship; motion requires a frame of reference. Sound requires an eardrum; light requires an object to illuminate and an eye to see. The yin-yang symbol represents interdependence: two that are secretly one. Understanding interdependence requires a "flip" in common sense, as unfamiliar ideas are hard to assimilate. The Japanese image of dew drops on a spiderweb, each reflecting all others, illustrates this interdependence. Words have meaning only in context; an individual's existence is in relation to their complex environment. Explicit (outside appearance) and implicit (underlying reality) are poles of the same magnet; underneath opposition is unity. The universe's intelligence crystallizes in brains, but it's the intelligence of the entire field we interdepend with. - Chapter 5: The Web as Trap: Watts revisits the theme of the web of life, first noting how selective attention creates "isolates," making us feel disconnected by ignoring fundamental connections. Second, the analogy of weaving shows hidden, "unconscious" connections where opposites, though explicitly different, are implicitly one. Now, he considers the web as a trap, like a spiderweb for flies. Some view life as hateful, with kindness and love as mere fronts for selfish drives (eating and procreating). This is partly true; biology involves a system of beings eating each other, with humans as the most successful predators, often obscuring the killing from their sight. Watts suggests contemplating death and the idea of being entirely selfish. Exploring extreme selfishness reveals that the "self" one loves is known only in terms of the "other" (the universe). Jung's concept of the "shadow" is introduced: the unacknowledged, outcast part of oneself that is also the source of creation and generation. Holiness means wholeness, reconciling opposites; holy people are often troublemakers and healers simultaneously, like an ocean that can be calm or terrifying. Penetrating one's depths with honesty is key, though complete honesty is impossible and perhaps not sane. Humor, especially about oneself, arises from the difference between outer appearance and inner reality (like the messy back of an embroidery). Everyone takes shortcuts and has duplicity; nature itself is full of deception (camouflage, mimicry). Exploring oneself for a genuine core is like peeling an onion: layer after layer, but no central pit. When feeling trapped, Watts advises going deeper into the feeling (e.g., extreme selfishness) rather than backing away, as confusion often results from not following feelings or ideas to their depths. - Chapter 6: The Web as Play: Our senses and consciousness are selective, picking out significant things according to game rules, primarily the survival game, which is complicated by the rule that the game must be serious. This selective listening misses background patterns; the universe is patterning, and we are patterning organisms. Patterns are the universe at play, even our bodies are constantly "dancing". Watts questions if we can accept the web as playful, contrasting it with Western cultural upbringing where the universe is presided over by a serious entity, unlike Hindu gods like Shiva who dance. The notion that existence is guilt is challenged; you can't make people appreciative by making them feel guilty. The "guilt game" from parents is dishonest. It's important to admit that everyday life is a game and that truly humane people see themselves as rascals and tricksters. Music isn't "about" anything except beautiful sound patterns; existence is similar, with ups and downs, dark and light. Van Eyck's "Last Judgment" painting, Watts suggests, shows more artistic delight in depicting hell than heaven, similar to Bosch and Bruegel. The web is also a veil hiding the face of God, creating mystery, like a striptease always implying something more. Watts aims to share a playful attitude towards life, urging enjoyment rather than dis-enjoyment. To spread joy, one must have joy; interesting people are interested. Enriching oneself by trying to "be" a certain way (e.g., spiritual, influential) doesn't work. We long for the gap, the break, the rhythm created by silences and surprises, not monotony. Exploring one's nature reveals rhythms within rhythms, vibrations without a visible musician who disappears when looked for—this is the situation of life. Part Three: Inevitable Ecstasy - Chapter 7: Attachment and Control: As babies, we experience undifferentiated awareness, but as we grow, we learn distinctions and forget this foundational unity. Words are for distinctions, so there's no word for non-distinction, though it can be felt. "Attachment" (klesha) is better translated as "hang-up"—getting stuck or blocked. Major hang-ups include the self/other distinction and the voluntary/involuntary action distinction, leading to confusion when children are commanded to perform spontaneous actions (e.g., "go to sleep," "love your parents"). The ego is an abstract concept, a social convention, an image of ourselves that is inaccurate and incomplete, like a caricature. The feeling of ego is often a chronic muscular strain from trying to control spontaneous activities. Transcending the ego is realizing it was never truly there. Watts suggests an exercise: be like a baby again, aware of bodily and mental happenings without naming or effort, noticing that everything runs on by itself, illustrating the illusory nature of a separate "you". The idea of "control" is questioned; processes can be self-controlling. You are an aperture through which the universe looks at itself, leading to a hide-and-seek game. Asserting a "knower" for "knowing" is imposing grammar on nature. Gurus trick you into seeing that you can't "do" anything to find the Self because you already are it; struggle reinforces the feeling of absence. When nothing works to "find it," you are left with the "happening" that goes on despite your efforts. This isn't determinism, as there's no one "being determined"; the present comes from the present, not the past. Realizing "you are the happening" leads to a synthesis of doing and happening. Pain's energy is often derived from resistance to it, amplified by anxiety and social taboos (e.g., against screaming in hospitals). Vomiting, an experience of release, is learned to be "nasty". Death is natural; a person dying makes room for others. Children are our survival; prolonging life indefinitely isn't the point, as new eyes appreciate the world afresh, continuing nature's game of self-awareness. Cultural resistance to death (e.g., lying to the dying, medicalizing death) deprives individuals of a profound spiritual opportunity. Karlfried von Dürckheim found people experienced "natural satori" when accepting imminent death during wartime bombings. Letting go at death reveals life's meaning. Panic in the face of death is another opportunity if not resisted. Fear (heebie-jeebies) is valuable if not suppressed; extreme experiences like terror or pain share physiological processes with orgasm, and this abandonment can lead to a feeling of unity. Ecstasy is inevitable; it's the nature of existence. - Chapter 8: Hypnosis and Habituation: The baby's undifferentiated awareness is needed as a basis for the adult's selective view, to avoid taking adult games too seriously. A Buddha's view encompasses both. Regaining a child's view happens by realizing you can't "do" anything about it, not even "do nothing," as long as the "I" is felt as separate. The valuation system (good/bad, etc.) is also maya (illusion, play). The hypnosis of social conditioning makes these rules seem sacrosanct. Blaming the past is futile; the present creates the meaning of the past (like forgiveness changing past events, or a sentence's verb at the end defining its meaning). Telling yourself you "can't" obtain undifferentiated seeing is a way of postponing realization. Buddhism isn't urgent about "saving" unless you think so. Teachers saying realization takes a long time can kill interest; a more encouraging attitude is better. Realizing the ego is fictitious leads to a silence where one watches what happens, which is "watching itself". The idea that habituation makes change difficult is only true if you believe it. Zen emphasizes immediate action without premeditation. Calling your value system into question can be done immediately, like choosing a different sandwich. All experiences are vibrations; values placed on them are arbitrary, known only by contrast (red vs. green, loud vs. soft). This is "nonsense" in the way music or a child's fascination with a "boing" sound is—delight in meaningless but fascinating vibrations. Each vibration implies all others; the whole universe can be seen in "boing". The craving for risky activities is seeking interesting vibrations. Repeating a mantra until it's just sound can reveal its fantastic nature, not "just noise". The world is energy at play, a kaleidoscope of jazz. Seeing the world as "that" (tathata, suchness) beyond categories like organic/mechanical allows one to engage with life more fully, knowing it's a game of vibrations. Enlightened people can still enjoy and suffer emotions; detachment isn't indifference but freedom from fear of involvement. Meditation is not about daily expectation of improvement but just doing it; eventually, you see the world, where nothing is more important than anything else, and wasting time is its purpose. - Chapter 9: Harmonious Dissolution: The universe is a transitory system, like a bubble. Contemplating this dissolution often brings fear of the unknown, especially what might be beyond death. Governments use this fear to rule, as mystics who don't fear death (understanding you need nothing to have something) can't be scared. Going to sleep and never waking up isn't like darkness, as a blind-from-birth person doesn't know darkness. The "blankness" of death is like what's behind your eyes—inconceivable. If life is a sudden experience, nothing before and nothing after, who is there to feel sorrow when it ends?. Conversely, endless life with repeated sorrow and misery is also depressing. A compromise is life disappearing and restarting, feeling new each time, like the Hindu cycles of kalpas (4,320,000 years of manifestation then vanishing, then restarting). Moksha is liberation from this cycle. The Buddha taught that nirvana (liberation) and samsara (wheel of birth and death) go together; they are the same thing. Every incarnation, however strange, feels "normal" to the one experiencing it, like being human feels to us. Every life form perceives itself in the middle of extremes (large/small, past/future). Life implies death; knowing it ends makes it poignant and lively. Nothingness is essential for somethingness, like background for form. The saying "When you're dead, you're dead" is a tool of those who want to rule by fear, ignoring that all this comes from nothingness. Huineng (6th Zen Patriarch) taught that the mind's essence is pure (clear, void), and emptiness is abundantly full, containing the whole universe. Fear of nothingness is hocus-pocus; it's what you were before birth and is the secret to the whole thing. Exploring nothingness brings energy and creativity. "The Cloud of Unknowing" and Dionysius the Areopagite describe God in negatives, as infinite and beyond conception. Insisting on a tangible God is cheating oneself of the full benefit of exploring true emptiness. Part Four: The World as Just So - Chapter 10: The Koan of Zen: Lectures on Zen are a hoax because Zen deals with ineffable experience, like poetry trying to say what can't be said. Zen is a "finger pointing at the moon"; it concerns "that" (Brahman, ultimate reality) which you are, in disguise. Zen is characterized by: direct transmission (beyond scriptures), being beyond language, forthright pointing to the mind, and realizing one's nature to become Buddha (awakened). Zen's appeal to Westerners lies in its humor (unlike most serious religions), lack of doctrines/moralizing, and its presentation by scholars like D.T. Suzuki as Ch'an Buddhism (China, 700-1000 CE), which differs from modern Japanese Zen's fetish of sitting meditation (zazen). Zen encompasses walking, standing, sitting, and lying (e.g., sleeping thoroughly). A Zen master summarized Buddhism as "Don't act, but act" (misheard by Paul Reps as "Don't act bad act"), reflecting the Taoist wu wei principle. Zen offers sudden insight, unlike paths promising results after long years. Zen dialogues (mondo) are fascinatingly incomprehensible and often end with the student "getting the point" spontaneously, like getting a joke. Examples: "Wash your bowl" leading to awakening; a cook kicking over a picture to answer a koan. The progression "mountains are mountains -> mountains are no longer mountains -> mountains are mountains" illustrates seeing beyond separation. "No mind" (mushin) means not being fooled by thoughts/images. Bodhidharma told Emperor Wu his good deeds had "no merit whatsoever" and the holy dharma was "vast emptiness and nothing holy," responding "I don't know" when asked who he was. Nobody "knows" Zen or who they truly are. Zen is obvious, like an unnoticed balloon on the ceiling. "Your everyday mind is the way," but "when you try to accord, you deviate". Zen is a Mahayana subdivision, aiming to realize Buddha Nature in this world, not by renouncing life. The Bodhisattva returns to help all beings. Zen is Indian Mahayana Buddhism influenced by Chinese Taoism and Confucianism. Key figures: Kumarajiva (promoted sudden enlightenment), Bodhidharma, Eka, Sosan, Doshin, Konin, and Huineng (Eno), the "real founder" of Chinese Zen who synthesized it with Chinese ways and wrote the Platform Sutra. Huineng taught against just sitting still to attain Buddhahood, as that makes a "stone Buddha"; the real mind is imperturbable and not "sticky," flowing with life. Satori (wu, hoi ng) is awakening to being the whole universe, a sudden shock turning common sense inside out. - Chapter 11: Nonduality in Action: "Going straight ahead" in Zen refers to detachment, a mind that isn't sticky, fumbling, or hesitant, answering immediately without premeditation. This is difficult due to the ingrained belief in a dual self (animal/civilized, lower/higher) where the better self must control the lower. The problem is knowing if the "higher self" isn't the "lower self" in disguise. You create the authorities you accept. Zen doesn't present this duality; believing in a higher self is a trick of the lower. Fighting an "ego" to get rid of it strengthens the delusion of its existence. This split thinking (rider/horse, soul/body) aggravates the problem, leading to unresolvable interior conflict. If you know the true self, the lower self ceases to be a problem, like walking through a mirage. Split-mindedness causes dithering (higher/lower self? God/Devil?). Overcoming it requires being surprised into it. Laughter, a non-deliberate response, can be a Buddha mind response. A spontaneous response isn't necessarily quick; silence without embarrassment is also spontaneous. When free to feel stuck or not stuck, you're unstuck. Thoughts rise and fall; connecting them creates the illusion of a separate thinker. This thinker is just another thought in the stream. This creates split-mindedness and an inability to truly control thoughts. Simultaneously acting and commenting on the action (wobbling) causes confusion, like trying to hit a nail while wondering if it's the right spot. This is klesha, disturbing confusion, particular to humans due to language. The idea of memory as an engraving on a stable "stuff" relates to the ceramic model's stuff/form duality, but shapeless stuff and stuffless shape don't exist; there's only process. Experience doesn't happen to an experiencer; it's all one process. Finding the "thinker" is key. Zen masters use shouting or impossible demands (e.g., "sound of one hand clapping") to unstick students from ordinary discourse and the "valuation game" (better/worse, etc.). The secret is: you cannot make a mistake, which is hard to grasp due to childhood conditioning about doing the "right thing" and playing status games (top/middle/bottom people). A Zen student stops playing the status game; being "better" is meaningless. Quitting the game is natural growth, not becoming "superior". Seeing polarities instead of conflicts arises from leaving the competitive game. Zen masters initially appear authoritarian to screen people out, then become like affectionate siblings, with the authoritarian trappings being a joke understood internally. - Chapter 12: A Great Doubt: A typical Zen institution (sodo: sangha hall) has a central hall with platforms for monks to sleep and meditate on assigned mats. An image of Manjushri (bodhisattva of wisdom) is in the center. The kansho is the administrative head, while the roshi (old teacher) guides spiritual development and is often feared. Entering a monastery is made difficult; prospective students wait outside, meditate all night, and are tested for endurance. In the initial interview (sanzen), the roshi asks "What do you want?" or "Why are you here?" often responding that Zen teaches nothing, as "not anything" is the void (shunyata). The roshi might drop a koan (a case/precedent, often a paradoxical question or story) like "Why is my hand so much like the Buddha’s hand?" or the basic "Who are you?" demanding a non-verbal, genuine answer. Monks meditate (zazen) with eyes open, counting breaths, then focusing on their koan. They present answers to the roshi daily; unsatisfactory answers lead to dismissal or further puzzling. This process, especially during intense sesshin periods (meditating all day, little sleep), leads to desperation and the "great doubt". Eventually, the student sees the problem was self-created, an illusion of needing to "beat the game" of life. Working on a koan is like "a mosquito biting an iron bull". There are five classes of koans; passing the first (Hinayana, for reaching nirvana) leads to Mahayana koans (bringing nirvana into the world). The system is homeopathic, using the "hair of the dog that bit you". Delusion can't be talked out; folly is pursued further until wisdom arises. This method suits those satisfied by nothing else and is dangerous without a good advisor. Modern Zen often has fixed, traditional ways, with prescribed answers to koans, losing dynamism. There's a need for modernization, as archaic language and allusions don't fit today's world. Bankei (17th century) offered a different Zen (fu-sho: "unborn mind"), asserting everyone has an immortal Buddha mind needing no special effort or discipline like zazen to realize. Thoughts arise from shallow parts of the mind and naturally pass if not clung to. Bankei taught a Zen of no methods, saying meditating to become enlightened is like polishing a brick to make a mirror. Part Five: The World as Self - Chapter 13: Hindu Cosmology: The Upanishads distill Hindu thought, centered on "Atman" (Self in the vastest sense, totality of being). Logically, one can't speak about "everything" as classification requires an inside/outside, which "everything" transcends. The Self is real despite being beyond logical categories, like a speaker's diaphragm making music possible but not being "about" the music. Each being is an "eye" looking out of one central Self; we are all "the works". This Self is consciousness, largely unconscious to our everyday awareness, like how we don't consciously beat our hearts but are "doing" it. The Self doesn't need to look at itself. Moksha (liberation) is realizing you are this totality, waking from the illusion of being a "poor little me". It means seeing the everyday world as the Self, understanding the interconnectedness (relativity) where opposites go together. Time and scale are relative; worlds can exist within worlds. Perception is selective, like playing notes on a piano; the universe plays with patterns on the Self. The question "Who were you before you were born?" highlights existence's oddness; every "someone" is "I," the fundamental I-ness coming from the central I. The important "you" is indestructible; fortunes and misfortunes are mirages. The world of forms is beautiful if let go, not grasped; detachment means going with change. Maya means illusion, magic, art, measurement; inches, pounds, dollars are imaginary, like the ego-self. The real Self is useless, doesn't "matter" for a purpose, like the head of a dead cat (valuable because priceless). Seeking the Self for personal gain is misguided. The Self (Brahman) exists for fun, playing at being the world, not working at it. The Self is nondual (Advaita), beyond "one" or "many," an inclusive unity. Play is nontrivial (like Heifetz playing violin); Watts's philosophy is sincere entertainment, not "serious" in the context of tragedy. God is not serious. The world is fundamentally play, rhythm (waking/sleeping, breathing, etc.) Waves have inseparable crests/troughs; sound is sound/silence; light is light/darkness. Hindu time is in kalpas (4,320,000 years): a manvantara (manifestation, Brahman hides) then a pralaya (Brahman returns to itself). These are simultaneous from the Self's eternal viewpoint but sequential in myth. Hereafter refers to herein, a domain deeper than ego, an inward journey to eternity. Brahman, the actor, takes itself in during the play (maya). A kalpa has four yugas (krita, treta, dwapara, kali), from perfect to increasingly chaotic, symbolizing chaos being troublesome enough for order to play against but never fully defeating it. We are in the kali yuga. Brahman has three aspects: Brahma (creator), Vishnu (preserver), Shiva (destroyer/liberator). Shiva's consort Kali represents the "awful awfuls," total night, but meditating on her reveals light in darkness. Shiva's tandava dance destroys the universe, then Brahma's face appears, restarting the cycle. Western thought's linear time (from Augustine, to avoid Christ's repeated crucifixion) contrasts with Hindu cyclic time. Realizing only the present exists ends boredom and delivers one from cycles, not by their disappearance but by seeing they aren't "going" anywhere. - Chapter 14: Insiders and Outsiders: We come out of the world, not into it; we are expressions of the Self. Human history shows three culture types: hunting, agrarian, industrial. - Hunting cultures: Everyone is an expert in the whole culture; the religious figure is the shaman (magical, sensitive, self-initiated through isolation and encounters with the spirit world). - Agrarian cultures: Labor divides, people specialize; the religious figure is the priest (power from tradition/community). Communities were stockaded enclosures, often with four gates/divisions (like Hindu society's four castes: Brahmana/priests, Kshatriya/warriors, Vaishya/merchants, Sudra/laborers). Life stages within a caste: brahmacharya (student), grihastha (householder with duties of artha/citizenship and kama/sensual arts), then dharma (ritual/ethical rules). After fulfilling duties, one could enter vanaprastha ("forest dweller"), becoming a sramana (related to shaman), seeking their true self through practices like mauna (silence) under a guru. This is a social analogue of the self playing its game then realizing itself, spiraling to a higher level of self-awareness. Self-consciousness is neurological resonance, an echo; if it gets snarled (too much feedback), it becomes anxiety. Learning its limits allows spontaneous enjoyment of the echo. Vanaprasthas regain an adult "oceanic feeling" of unity, knowing societal game rules but not being defined by them. Realizing one is Brahman is a journey to where you already are. Gurus (tricksters) use sadhana (discipline/yoga) to show the inquirer they are what they seek. Yoga means "union"; a yogi realizes this union. Seeking the Self thrusts it away; practicing discipline to attain it postpones realization. The Zen story of rubbing a brick to make a mirror illustrates this. We are often afraid to feel we are the Self now, preferring to suffer and "deserve" it later. Extraordinary disciplines (e.g., yogic feats) have nothing to do with self-realization, which is about "coming off it". Gurus use skillful methods (upaya) to crack students' shells, sometimes involving complex practices until the student sees their mind is a mess and gives up, realizing they were there all along. Lack of faith/trust in life leads to forcing things. Religious/spiritual groups often claim to have an "extra essence," testing if you'll fall for it, making a "monkey" of you until you have the nerve to be the Self. Liberation happens instantly when "you get it". Contemporary society discourages "checking out" of the social game; non-joiners are seen as deadbeats or poor consumers. Insecure societies demand everyone play the game, a double bind ("you MUST play voluntarily"). Rugged individualism leads to conformism out of fear. Democracy, by interpreting equality as everyone being inferior before God (a parody of mysticism's "all are divine"), can lead to fascism due to terror of the outsider. A free society loves outsiders as they remind the government of something more important, like a court fool reminding a king of his mortality. Part Six: The World as Emptiness - Chapter 15: The Buddhist Method: Buddhism can be seen as Hinduism stripped for export, focusing on the essence of moksha (liberation) rather than the whole culture. The core is discovering that on one level you are an illusion, but on another, you are the Self playing hide-and-seek. Buddhism's key is awakening (bodhi); Buddha means "awakened one". The historic Buddha, Gautama, after extreme asceticism proved futile, realized that trying to escape the "trap" of ego was itself the trap; trap and trapped are one. The Buddha's method (dharma) is dialectic, a discourse, not fixed doctrine. The Four Noble Truths: 1. Dukkha (suffering/frustration): Arises from clinging when there's nothing to hold onto and no "you" to hang on (anatman/no-self). 2. Trishna (thirst/craving/clinging/blocking): The cause of dukkha, because we don't realize the world is anitya (impermanent) and anatman. Trying to give up desire leads to desiring not to desire. The Middle Way involves not desiring to give up more desire than you can, iteratively. 3. Nirvana (blowing out/letting go): Liberation, like moksha; not annihilation but a state of being let go, here and now. 4. Marga (path): The Eightfold Path, with three divisions (using samyak = middle-wayed/complete, not just "right"): - Drishti (understanding): Anatman applied not just to ego but also to a universal Self, making Buddhism seem atheistic. It doesn't deny a Self (Atman) but says concepts about it lead to belief over knowing. The idea of God is a finger pointing at God; Buddha "chopped off the finger" by maintaining noble silence on metaphysical questions to avoid creating idols/images. The truth is suggested via dialectic, pricking students' conceptual bubbles. Buddhism grows and develops; you go on to Buddha, not back. - Sila (conduct): The five precepts (abstain from killing, stealing, sexual exploitation, false speech, intoxicants) are practical for liberation, not moralistic commands. - Smriti/Samadhi (meditation/recollection/present-mindedness): Being self-aware. "The House that Jack Built Meditation" reveals all thoughts are in/of the present. Samadhi is the state where the illusion of a separate ego disintegrates. Buddhist scriptures are vast and often boring, with written words seen as incidental or obstacles. - Chapter 16: Impermanence by Any Name: The world is in flux; suffering arises from failing to accept impermanence and the lack of a permanent self. A person, whirlpool, or university are all changing patterns, "doings". We are whirlpools in the tide of existence; every cell and atom is in constant flux. Resistance to change is needed for form, but human awareness of time and inevitable disappearance of forms can cause sadness or rage. Whether next year's leaves are the "same" is a puzzle; the Pali phrase "nacha so, nacha anno" (not the same and yet not another) describes this. This allows for reincarnation without a fixed soul entity. We live on many rhythmic levels; high-frequency changes seem continuous (like a high note), slow ones reveal gaps (like generational change). Understanding change and not clinging allows it to become beautiful. Poetry on evanescence captures this beauty. Yugen is a Japanese term for subtle profundity, enjoying change and mystery (e.g., ships hidden behind an island, geese disappearing into clouds) without pinning it down. One-sided minds notice only peaks, not troughs (valleys). Wisdom begins by emphasizing the valley aspect, which makes us uncomfortable as it represents the unknown, like death. Space and solid are two aspects of space/solid; conscious attention often ignores intervals, but in music, intervals are key. Not being there is essential for being there. Seeking nirvana (unborn, unoriginated) as different from samsara (world of change) is seeking permanence. Mahayana Buddhism ("great vehicle") critiques Hinayana ("little vehicle") for this, proposing the bodhisattva who returns to the world, realizing nirvana isn't different from ordinary life. Nirvana is where you are, if you don't object to the flux. Willingness to die comes from understanding waves, that your disappearance is seasonal; you are the total wave (light/life and dark/death). Not resisting change (over-resisting) reveals the changing world is nirvana. Salvation is the fact you can't hang on to yourself. Gurdjieff taught the importance of realizing everyone will soon be dead. Western culture resists death, hushing it up, creating a problem where there isn't one. Watts suggests creative, celebratory approaches to dying. - Chapter 17: The Doctrine of Emptiness: Discovering there's nothing to cling to, and no one to cling, transforms perception: senses awaken, the world feels light, and the duality of ordinary world/nirvana vanishes—they are the same, differing only by viewpoint. Identifying as a stable, separate witness to the flux creates discomfort and conflict. This sense of a separate observer is an abstraction from memory, a "cue signal" or "beep" giving a sense of continuous experience. Memory itself is a dynamic system of rhythmic repetitions within the present flow. All present knowledge is memory; an instantaneous flash isn't truly experienced as it's not remembered. Memory signals have a different "cue" than present-time signals; when mixed up, déjà vu occurs. Memories are part of the present moment's flowing process; no separate witness stands aside. Accepting this and letting go of the clutched separate self makes death a great opportunity. The Buddhist doctrine of the world as void (emptiness, shunyata) emerged prominently around 100 BCE - 200 CE with Mahayana Buddhists and the Prajnaparamita literature (e.g., "Heart Sutra": "Form is emptiness, emptiness is form"). This isn't nihilism. Nagarjuna (c. 200 CE) propagated this through his Madhyamaka school ("doctrine of the Middle Way/emptiness"). Emptiness means transience, nothing to grasp, and reality escaping all concepts (e.g., "God exists" and "God doesn't exist" are both concepts). His dialectic method elicits and demolishes students' basic premises without offering alternatives, leading to fear then liberation when they realize the void. One must then "void the void" (not cling to emptiness); the void of nonvoid is the great state. What's voided are concepts used to pin down reality. "You cannot nail a peg into the sky"; being of the void means not depending on anything. This notion contrasts with rich Western imagery of God, which can be idolatrous. The true void isn't fog, darkness, or blank nothingness. Huineng taught against trying to empty the mind in meditation; the void is like space containing everything, or a mirror reflecting all colors because it has none. Meister Eckhart said the eye must be free from color to see color; an empty head allows experience. This is Mahayana's central principle. Chinese practicality reformed Indian Buddhism, allowing priests to marry and favoring stories like Vimalakirti (a layman) winning a debate on the void by saying nothing (the "thunder of silence"). Feeling heavy or life as a "drag" comes from the illusion of carrying the body/burden. When there's no one for whom it's a burden (because the separate "I" is seen as illusory), it's no longer a burden. Redundant thinking (feeler feeling feelings, thinker thinking thoughts) creates oscillation and anxiety, like telephone feedback howl. Nagarjuna's method abolishes anxiety by showing that worrying makes no difference; you'll die anyway, so let go and stop wasting energy on self-defense.