My mind is like a shopping mall- so many things going on, turn this way, that way, always something to see, something happening. Sit zazen, there's the shoe store, drop it... there's the bank, drop it... there's a music store- nope, can't drop it, song is stuck in there, playing over the PA.
So, I used to think I was Head of Security. Big dimly-lit office, one wall covered in monitors. Huge console of switches and buttons and keyboards, me in constant and vigilant control.
Way down at one end of the mall, behind the potted ficus, holding the empty Orange Julius cup and wiping snot on his sleeve- the homeless bum who lives inside the mall, who eats out of the trash can next to Panda Express, who follows the mall through time, helpless and confused. That's me.
The kicker is, all the cameras are fake- plastic props with clever winking light, but no wires leading to anywhere. There is no Head of Security. And all the people wandering around shopping are hallucinations , including me, and my ficus, and my cup.
ps- the janitor just stopped to dust the ficus and told me that he's by-god real enough, don't be getting any funny ideas. And he took my cup.