Evelina

“The system can be paralyzed in yet another way. Every feedback system needs a margin of “lag” or error. If we try to make a thermostat absolutely accurate–that is, if we bring the upper and lower limits of temperature very close together in an attempt to hold the temperature at a constant 70 degrees–the whole system will break down. For to the extent that the upper and lower limits coincide, the signals for switching off and switching on will coincide! If 70 degrees is both the lower and upper limit the “go” sign will also be the “stop” sign; “yes” will imply “no” and “no” will imply “yes.” Whereupon the mechanism will start “trembling,” going on and off, on and off, until it shakes itself to pieces. The system is too sensitive and shows symptoms which are startlingly like human anxiety. For when a human being is so self-conscious, so self-controlled that he cannot let go of himself, he dithers or wobbles between opposites. This is precisely what is meant in Zen by going round and round on “the wheel of birth-and-death,” for the Buddhist samsara is the prototype of all vicious circles. We saw that when the furnace responds too closely to the thermostat, it cannot go ahead without also trying to stop, or stop without also trying to go ahead. This is just what happens to the human being, to the mind, when the desire for certainty and security prompts identification between the mind and its own image of itself. It cannot let go of itself. It feels that it should not do what it is doing, and that it should do what it is not doing. It feels that it should not be what it is, and be what it isn’t. Furthermore, the effort to remain always “good” or “happy” is like trying to hold the thermostat to a constant 70 degrees by making the lower limit the same as the upper.”
― Alan Wilson Watts, The Way of Zen

“But when you know for sure that your separate ego is a fiction, you actually feel yourself as the whole process and pattern of life. Experience and experiencer become one experiencing, known and knower one knowing.”
― Alan Wilson Watts, The Book: On the Taboo Against Knowing Who You Are

“Aş suferi mai mult dacă aş fi respins. Iar eu vreau să înving întotdeauna. De aceea mă arăt retras, dispreţuitor. Nădăjduiesc într-un timp când munca mă va înălţa destul ca să atrag privirile. Suferinţele mele - până atunci - nu le va cunoaşte nimeni.”
― Mircea Eliade, Le Roman de l'adolescent myope

“Voiam, insa, ca-pana atunci- sa nu tradez nimic din zbuciumul, din intunecimile si flacarile sufletului meu. [...]
Voiam sa trec printre semeni neluat in seama. Sa fiu crezut un adolescent urat si plicticos- si cu toate acestea sa am cugetul si sufletul desprinse din stanca. Sa izbucnesc dintr-o data, coplesind turma taratorilor si uluind neputinta celor care m-au cunoscut si m-au dispretuit. Sa-i biciuesc si sa le necinstesc fetele si sa ma desfat simtindu-mi trupul galgaind de viata rodnica si creatoare.
Nu mi-a placut sa am prieteni. N-am vrut sa-mi descopar sufletul adolescentilor livizi si melancolici. Mandria ca port in mine o taina pe care n-o ghiceste nimeni mi-ajungea.
Si gandul ca voi infricosa candva cetele oamenilor de carne- ma imbata. Eu stiam cine sunt. Si lucrul acesta imi umplea sufletul cu o nemarginita incredere si ma silea sa-mi incordez bratele ca pentru lupta. Cu atat mai mult cu cat nimeni nu banuia cine sunt si ce voi putea ajunge.
...Dar n-a fost asa. Mi-am cautat si eu, ca toti oamenii slabi, prieteni. Mi-am descoperit si eu sufletul cersind mangaiere si sprijin. Am tradat colturi din taina mea si am lasat sa se vada ceea ce nu trebuia sa cunosc decat eu. M-am vrut neindurat. Si n-am izbutit. Am fost schimbacios si plin de compromisuri, ca orice adolescent. Am facut si eu glume, am ras si eu mai mult decat era nevoie, mi-am risipit si eu timpul in vorba cu colegi imbecili si prieteni plictisitori, am dormit si eu opt ore ca toti ceilalti, am ratacit si eu seara, pe strazi ,murmurand confesiuni[...]
Si nu numai atat. Am nesocotit cea mai frumoasa hotarare a mea: aceea de a pastra in mine, pana la desavarsire, tot ceea ce nazuiam sa impart mai tarziu celorlalti.”
― Mircea Eliade, Le Roman de l'adolescent myope