The terrors of ego. How great they are? Yet how small is the cell in which we live with it? The word I, the sense of possessiveness, the righteous anger against incursions on it, the illusions of power and the realities of incapacity and weakness that it conceives; the anger on this weakness, the frustration, the channeling of this anger into something destructive and anti-life, the incapacity to do it, the incapacity to do anything, the depression. The word I, the sense of weakness and inability, the determination to change it, the herculean task of changing determination into fruitful action, the failures, the success and then failures again and then success or failure, but always the competition, the comparison, the sadness of being left behind, the euphoria followed by loneliness and depression of leaving all the precious things in life behind. The word I. How small is this word? Yet how big is the difference that it makes in our lives?
The word I. Is there no life besides this word? No pleasure? No gain? No success? No achievement? No... peace? Is that all there is to life; this small cell? This anxiety and frustration, this depression and loneliness? No wonder life looks meaningless from this small cell. No wonder it looks like the Myth of Sisyphus.
Let's open this cell. The door is already unlocked. You just have to give it a little push. Will you die outside of this cell? Will you never be able to come back to this cell again? Is this your fear? Why do you love this cell so much? What is in there in that cell to love about? Your freedom? (laughter) Is THIS freedom? This anxiety and depression? This helpless anger? This...pain? If this is freedom then slavery cannot be worse than it. No. It is worse than slavery. At least the slave satisfies his master. Where is your satisfaction? Where is the satisfaction of this I? Has it ever been satisfied? This I? No. It is never satisfied. It always craves and craves and craves until it is nothing but craving. The more satisfaction you give to it the more thirsty it becomes. The more you give into it the more it asks until there is nothing left of you. Is this freedom?
Open the door. Come outside. The world is vast. There is beauty in it. There are people. You can talk to them. You can be one with them. You can be one with nature. You can be one with any and everything you want. Everything is looking for you. Everything wants to give itself to you. You can experience it all. You can experience the reality of life as it should be. And as it really is. Come out of this cell. Open the door. Come out of your I. Your ego.