Unconsciousness is a product of living life based on extrapolations of the past. It is a combination of not seeing, not feeling, not perceiving, not being. It is a product of thinking, imagining, reminiscing, forecasting, judging and often coming up with a solution out of a fixed set of outcomes. This is a moment. I am buying coffee. I will ask for a grande coffee, room for milk. I will pay the guy behind the counter 1 dollar and 55 cents, leave 20 cents in his tip jar, pocket the quarter, thank him with blank, unseeing eyes, head on over the cream counter, dump some coffee out, pour some whole milk, stir, sip, close the lid, wipe the counter, pocket a napkin and walk out. Now, that is indeed a moment that has happened in my life many, many, many times in the past. There is nothing unique about it. In fact, it’s a completely predictable moment. It’s happened before, it’ll happen again and again and again. There is no need to change it, no need to analyze it or think about it. Very true. But there is a need to experience it as what each such incident is. Different than any other and happening in a very unique time-space-consciousness continuum. I have only to drop my mind, find the truth of the moment and experience the joy in that moment. It will happen, because it is there. The uniqueness of this moment can never be reproduced, bastardized, predicted or duplicated. Never. Know this. Realize this. Don’t think about it nor question or analyze nor glorify it. This is the way life is supposed to happen. The birds and the trees and the fish and the dogs don’t question it. They live it with full acceptance. Babies and the madmen don’t question it – they too live with full acceptance of the situation. But then one starts accumulating knowledge, ideas, theories and compulsive ways of needing to explain everything. That is when the magic begins to disappear from life. There is then the need to neatly file and compile every instance as it surfaces. To find the reason behind every situation. That is when the mind takes me over, and I resort to unconscious behavior. That is when the past and the future assign me my identity. That is when I die to my life. And that is what is sorrow. That is what is hell.