There was a joke in Punch sometime many years ago, I remember, of an army doctor interviewing
 a private, and the private says, "Every time I shake my leg like this it hurts."
 He said, "God damn it, don't shake it!"
 But you know, when one has something that hurts, there's a subtle temptation to keep
 worrying it, like if you have a filling out of a tooth, your tongue plays with the empty
 hole.
 And children will experiment with pain in this way.
 It's like a dare.
 Children are always playing the game of daring each other to do something forbidden, because
 the risk of disapproval involved, the calamity that may follow from it, it makes it so exciting.
 And why on earth do people challenge disaster the way they do, doing all sorts of wildly
 adventurous things?
 Because obviously that gives a taste, a quality, to a vibration that is extremely interesting.
 Why the craving for speed?
 So on.
 And it's only if you look very carefully at a vibration that you can see this point.
 That's why meditative exercises often involve a repetition process, "Om" or saying a phrase,
 or doing an act like a mudra, over and over and over again.
 After a while it becomes meaningless.
 You can say your own name like the Sufis do, and go on and on and on and on and on, and
 finally it doesn't mean anything at all.
 It's just a noise.
 But it isn't just a noise, you see.
 The attitude of saying that something is just a noise, or just a wiggle, is an adult attitude.
 No wiggle to the child is just a wiggle.
 To the child, the elemental thing going on is "blahhh", you know?
 I mean, it's just fantastic.
 Now do you see why this is what mystics call ineffable?
 That is to say, you can't really talk about it.
 When I try to explain what I mean by "digging" a sound, I suddenly realize that I'm not really
 saying anything.
 And yet there are states of consciousness in which you can listen to sound and realize
 that that is the whole point of being alive.
 Just to go with this particular energy manifestation that is happening right at this moment.
 To be it.
 The whole world is the energy playing at doing all this, you see, like a kaleidoscope, jazzing.
 So, if you watch that, and watch it that way, you will be accused, of course, by those who
 are guardians of the game of doing something very dangerous.
 You're going completely crazy.
 I mean, the number of theological texts I've read, which express in one way or another
 this horror of everything becoming meaningless, the meaningless life, a tale told by an idiot
 full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
 Those people, you see, have not dared to look at it.
 Now there's another way of looking at it, of course, where in states of acute depression
 people see it all as meaningless, but not really meaningless.
 They see it all as a conspiracy of horror.
 Let's imagine that everything is mechanical.
 There are no living beings at all.
 There are a lot of beings that are such good computers that you can't tell the difference
 between them and what you thought were people.
 But everything going on is simply clockwork.
 And there's nobody home, although it puts on a convincing show that there is.
 So you get the feeling that the entire world is enameled tin or patent leather or plastic
 and tasteless, hollow, vulgar, like a Wurlitzer jukebox.
 That's a very common feeling of people who get into acute depression.
 But you see there is still here evaluation.
 You are associating the world with the mechanical as distinct from the organic.
 And we have a tendency, you see, to put down the mechanical, because obviously a plastic
 flower doesn't have the scent, it doesn't have the soft feeling of a living flower.
 We'll perfume plastic flowers soon.
 But you know what it'll do.
 It'll smell vaguely like soap and it won't smell like a flower.
 So it'll be plastic smell.
 Now we know that, you see, and so we contrast it with the organic.
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