Evidence of this collective, species-wide amnesia—for who we really are, and how we experience the world—is absolutely everywhere.
Including our local car park.
It’s a big one, but it’s the only free one in town, so on a busy day it fills to capacity, and you’re lucky to get a space.
The other morning, my wife and I headed in together, arriving just as the last few spaces were slipping away.
And there it was: the evidence.
Someone had parked so hastily and so sloppily that the front corner of their vehicle was a good foot into the adjacent space, thereby effectively ruling out anyone else parking there.
For a while there, I think you could describe my mood as “incandescent.”
The Giles Ego Construct 📦 could imagine someone (me, for instance) in a hurry for an appointment in town, desperate to find a space, seeing one off in the distance—a glimmer of hope; serendipity striking!—only to have those hopes dashed utterly by the thoughtless, self-ish behaviour of another.
🤬
I mean, I say “thoughtless” but it’s not, really, is it? It’s a head FULL of thought! I have no idea of the details of what was going on for that person in their life, right there and then, as they were parking (it doesn't really matter) but I know for sure what the root cause of it was: identification with the fictional narrative of thought, playing through their mind.