So long as we are struggling in the delusory world of happenings – as miserable toys, being played about by the whimsical fancies of the mind – at that time, to keep our balance and swim to the shore we need the help of a piece of wood floating down the river. When once we have reached safely the banks of the river, should we carry that piece of wood on our shoulders, all the way, when we are dragging ourselves home?
