I would like, if I may, to talk over something which seems to me extraordinarily important. I think a community or a society that has not understood the problem of time, death, and love will obviously be very superficial; and a society or a community that is superficial must inevitably deteriorate. I mean by that word superficial merely to be contented with outward phenomena, with outward success, with prosperity, having a good time, and demanding entertainment. And, such a society, or human beings who are part of that society, must inevitably deteriorate, whether they go to a church or to a football (game) are just the same because they need to be entertained, stimulated.

And, unless we human beings resolve these fundamental questions, inevitably the mind will deteriorate. And the problem is: Is it possible to stop this continuous wave of deterioration, not only of the mind and the heart, but also the deterioration which takes place when there is not earnestness, an urgency, a passion? And when we are going to talk over together this question of time, death and so on, I think it is important to bear in mind that the word, the explanation is not the fact. And most of us are so easily satisfied with explanations: we think we have understood it. If we are clever enough to explain anything away, as most of us are who have read a great deal or who have experimented with many things—we can give explanation to almost anything, and the explanation seems to satisfy most of us. But when we are going to discuss something very seriously, mere satisfaction of verbal explanation seems to me so utterly futile, so immature.

And so, if I may go over it again a little briefly, it is very important how one listens, because most of us do not listen at all—we listen either with pleasure, or with distaste, or with a formula of ideas, a philosophy which we have cultivated or have learned. Through these screens we listen, interpreting, translating, putting aside what we like and what we don't like—keeping what we like, rather—and so, the act of listening never takes place.

I do not know if you have ever observed, if you are listening to somebody whom you have known for many years, fairly intimate, you hardly listen, you already know what they are going to say. Your mind is already made up, you’ve already certain conclusions, certain images, which prevent actual listening. And to listen is an extraordinarily important act, because I feel if one could listen not only to what is being said from the speaker, but also listen to everything about our life everyday, listen to all the various noises, listen to the incessant chatter of one’s friend, or one’s wife or husband, or the rumblings of one’s own mind, the soliloquy that goes on—neither condemning, nor justifying, but actually listening. Then that listening brings about in itself an action, an action which is totally different from the action of a very calculated, drilled thought.

So, perhaps this evening, we could so listen, which doesn't mean that you must agree or disagree. On the contrary, the mind must be—to listen, must be—extraordinarily sensitive, must be eager, critical, aware of its own functioning, which means it is in a state of attention and, therefore, of passion. It’s only such a mind that can listen actually and go beyond the verbal images and conclusions, hopes, fears, and all the rest of it. Then only is there communication between two people, which is actually what is—if I may use that word which is so heavily laden and spoiled—love.

And I hope we can establish that relationship between the speaker and yourselves, so that we can discuss informally this question of time and of death. I do not know if you have ever gone into this question of death. Most of us are afraid of this thing called death which is unknown. On the contrary, we avoid it, we put it away, or we have come to certain conclusion, rationalize death, and are satisfied to live the allotted time. But to understand something of which we don't know, there must be, obviously, the end of fear. And, to understand fear, not the explanation of fear, not all the psychological structure of fear, (but) the nature of fear, which, if we have time this evening, we can go into briefly. Unless this question is totally resolved, neither suppressing nor escaping from it, we cannot possibly understand the nature of death.

So, our first concern, it seems to me, when we are dealing with deep subjects, deep realities, we must approach it with a fresh mind, with a mind that is neither hoping nor in despair, a mind that is capable of observing, facing fact without any sense of tremor, fear, anxiety. So, one has, I think, to totally understand this problem of fear, whether the mind can be completely free of fear, entirely, because a mind that is afraid, that is in despair, or has the fantasy of hope, which is always looking to the future, such a mind is a clouded mind, is a confused mind, is incapable of thinking clearly, except along its trained, drilled, technological knowledge—it will function mechanically there. But a mind that’s afraid lives in darkness; a mind that's confused, in despair, in anxiety, cannot resolve anything apart from the mechanical process of existence. And I'm afraid most of us are satisfied to live mechanically: we rather not deal with deeper subjects, deeper issues, deeper challenges.

So, is it possible to be free in the whole area of the mind—what is called the unconscious, as well as in the conscious? As we said the other day, there is no such thing as the unconscious; there is only this field of consciousness. One can be aware of a particular area of the field, and not be aware of the rest of it. If you are not aware of the rest of it, then you don't understand this whole area. Unfortunately it has been divided into the conscious and the unconscious; and we play this game between the conscious and the unconscious all the time. And it becomes the fashion to inquire into the unconscious, whereas if one is at all aware of the whole field, there is no need for the unconscious at all and therefore there is no need for dreams. It’s only the mind that is aware of a particular corner of the field and totally unaware of the rest, then it begins to dream; and there are all the interpretations of dreams, and all that stuff.

Whereas if one (is) aware during the entire day of every thought, every feeling, every motive, every response—aware: not interpreting it, not condemning it, not justifying it, but just to be aware of the whole process—then you will see there is no need for dreams at all, then the mind becomes highly sensitive, active, not made dull.

And, when we inquire into this question of fear, when we examine it—and I hope we'll do it together this evening—we have to cover the whole area, the whole field, not one particular form of fear, not your particular, favourite fear, or the fear which you are avoiding. Fear, surely, exists only in relationship to something, it doesn't exist by itself. I'm afraid of you, I'm afraid of an idea, I'm afraid my belief will be shattered because of a new idea, and so on. It's in relation to something, it doesn't exist per se, by itself. And, to understand the total fear, one must look at it non-fragmentarily, not as a particular, neurotic fear that one has. One must look at it as we look at the total map of the world, then you can go to the particular, then you can take in detail and look at the particular road, the particular village you're going to, and so on and so on and so on. One must have the total comprehension, and that is somewhat arduous, because we always think in terms of the particular, in terms . . . we think in fragments.

So, to come into contact (with) fear, the total fear, requires total attention. I mean by that word attention not concentration—concentration is the easiest thing to do—but to attend demands your complete energy: to attend, to give your complete attention; your body, your mind, your heart, your nerves—everything must be at its highest point, and then there is only attention then. Then you can give that attention, you can look at fear. Then in that attention there is no fragmentary, broken concentration on a particular subject; you see the whole of it. And it’s only when one sees the totality of fear, with its structure, meaning, its inwardness of it, then you will see, if you go that far, you'll see fear comes totally to an end, completely, because you are not caught by the word, by the symbol, by the word fear, which creates fear also. The word creates its own fear, like the word death creates its own fear.

And, one becomes attentive when the problem is urgent, when the challenge is immediate and you feel that challenge instantly, come into contact completely with that challenge. One is never in contact with a problem, with a challenge, with an issue, because when an issue arises, we’ve already an answer for it. We already have a conclusion: a verbal, cunning mind that meets that word and that challenge, has already answered that challenge, so there is never any contact. To be in contact means to be directly in touch with something; and you cannot come into touch with something directly if there is an idea between. So, to come into contact with fear . . .

(Sound of a baby crying)

To come into contact with fear one has not only to understand the word which stimulates fear and therefore understand how the mind is caught in words—which is, all our thinking is formulated in words, in symbols—and so to come directly into contact with fear, the verbal structure which the brain, the mind has created, one must be free of the structure. If I want to come into contact with that, I have to touch it. But the touch is not the word, is not a conclusion, it's an actual fact. And the more one is cunning, clever, erudite, full of knowledge and intellection, then you don’t touch at all, these ideas touch that, there is no direct contact with it. So, if one listens to what is being said in that direct sense, then you will discover the total area of the mind, because it’s understood the nature of the word, how the word creates the feeling; (how) the image foreshadows what it is afraid of, and so on and so on and so on. So, the verbal, the symbolic, the process of thinking in terms of word has come to an end, and therefore you are able to come directly into contact with that thing which one calls fear.

You see, as we were saying the other day, we are never in contact with any other human being, your wife or with your husband, or your children or with whoever it is, because we have images of the husband, or the wife, or the boss, and so on. These images have relationships between each other, and so actually there is no relationship at all. And these images are everlastingly in battle with each other. And so we have images about fear, about death, about love, and so all the deeper issues of life.

And, to understand the question of time is very important. I am using the word understand in the sense: come directly into contact with some things which the mind through thought cannot possibly comprehend. You cannot comprehend love through words, through ideas, through your experiences which you had. So, to go into this question of time is important because to understand death you must understand time; and to understand death and time is to understand what love is. And without understanding these three things—fundamental issues of life—life has very little meaning. You may go to the office, have plenty of money, and, you know all that stuff, it has very little meaning actually. And hence, when life loses its deep significance, then you are satisfied with superficial activity which leads to more confusion and to more sorrow. And that's what is actually taking place in the world, not only in this country, but the whole of Europe, India and so on.

So these questions, as a human being, must be solved, because a human being is part of society, a human being is not separate from society; he is part of, he is conditioned by society, which he has created. And to create a new society or a new community, the fundamental issues of life must be solved.

When we’re talking about time, we do not mean the chronological time, time by the watch—that time exists, must exist. If you want to catch a bus, if you want to get to a train, or so on, or an appointment, you must have time, tomorrow. But is there a tomorrow psychologically, which is the time of the mind? Is there psychologically tomorrow, actually, or the tomorrow is created by thought, because thought sees the impossibility of change, directly, immediately, and invents this process of gradualness? That is, I see for myself, as a human being, it’s terribly important to bring about a radical revolution in my way of life, thinking, feeling, in my action. And, I say to myself, “I take time over it,”—time being: what I am today, I'll be different tomorrow, or a month's time, and so on and so on. That is the time we are talking about: the psychological structure of time, of tomorrow, or the future, and in that time we live. Time is the past, the present, and the future—not by the watch—I was yesterday; yesterday operates through today, creates the future. That's a fairly simple thing. I have had an experience a year ago that has left an imprint on my mind, and the present I translate according to that experience, knowledge, tradition, conditioning, and I create the tomorrow. So I'm caught in this circle. This is what we call living, what we call time.

Please, I hope you are observing your own minds and not listening merely to the speaker. And, in this process of time, memory is very important: memory of a happy childhood, memory of some deep experience, memory of a pleasure which I've stored up, which I want to repeat tomorrow; and the repetition of that pleasure tomorrow is continued through thought. So, thought is time—isn’t it?—because if I didn’t think psychologically of tomorrow, there is no tomorrow. Please, it is not oversimplification. To understand something very complex, that needs deep examination and penetration, you must begin very, very simply; and it is the first step that matters, not the last step.

So, thought, which is you, with all its memories, conditioning, ideas, hopes, despair, the utter loneliness of existence—all that is this time. The brain is the result of time chronologically: two million years and more. It has its own reactions of greed, envy, ambition, jealousy, anxiety. And, to understand a timeless state, when time has come to a stop, one must inquire whether the mind can be free totally of all experience, which is of time.

All right, can I go on? I hope I’m not making it complicated, am I? Explanations are complicated, but not the actual fact; and if one is aware, however little bit attentive, one sees this process. Life is a continuous process of challenge and response; and every response is conditioned by its past responses, memories. And every challenge is new, otherwise it is not a challenge, and we're always responding from the past, except on rare occasions which we needn't discuss even—they are so rare, it doesn't much matter. And, into this brain every challenge and response as experience is being accumulated; and from that accumulation we act, we think, we feel, we function psychologically, inwardly, inside the skin, as it were—and that is time.

So, one asks oneself whether it is possible to live so completely that there is neither yesterday, or today, or tomorrow. And to understand that and live it, not theoretically but actually, one must examine the structure of memory, of thought; one has to ask oneself what is thinking at all. What is thinking, and why should we think? I know it's the habit to think, to reason, to judge, to choose. To judge, to choose, to think at a mechanical level is absolutely necessary, otherwise we couldn't function. So, is it possible to live from day to day freed from the psychological time as yesterday, today, and tomorrow, which doesn't mean that you live in the moment—that's one of our absurd fallacies. But what matters is to live now. The now is the result of yesterday: what you have thought, what you have felt—your memories, your anxieties, hopes, fears, all that has been stored up. Unless one understands that and dissipates it, you can't live in the now, therefore there is no such thing as the now, for life is a movement, endless movement, which movement we have divided psychologically as yesterday, today, and tomorrow, and hence we have invented the gradual process of achievement, of freeing oneself.

You know, it's like a man who smokes or drinks: he'll give it up gradually, he'll take time over it. It's like a man who is violent and has the ideal of non-violence: he’s pursuing non-violence and sowing seeds of violence in the meantime. That's what we actually are doing, which is called evolution. I'm not a fundamentalist, please.

So, the mind, the brain, the whole structure can only understand the state of mind which has no time at all only when we have understood for ourselves the nature of memory and thought, then we can face, then we can begin to understand the nature of death. Because death now is something in the distance, over there: we turn our back on it, we run away from it, we have theories about it, we rationalize it, or we have hopes beyond it, which is, in Asia, in India, they believe in reincarnation, and that's a hope, which doesn't mean that one has understood the whole beauty of death. I’m not being sentimental, the speaker is not being sentimental about death when he uses the word beauty. The issue involved in a future life is that there is a permanent entity—permanent entity as the soul, as something which continues. And they have given various names to that in the East and in the West, but in essence it is the same thing: something permanent, something that has a continuity.

And, there is the death of the physical, the organism wearing itself out through strains, stresses, through various misuses, drugs, overindulgence of everything. So the mechanism gradually wears out, dies—that's an obvious fact, but hope comes in and says, “There is a continuity, it isn't the end of everything. I've lived, struggled, accumulated, learned, developed a character,”—I don't know why one develops a character, which is neither here nor there: character is merely a resistance—“and that permanent entity will continue till it becomes perfect,”—whatever that may mean.

So, is there a permanent entity at all? I know the believers, but the believers are not the speakers of truth, they are merely dogmatists, theologians, or people who are full of fanciful hope. So if you examine yourself to find out if there is a thing that is permanent, obviously there is nothing permanent, both outwardly and inwardly. Though each one of us craves for security outwardly, we are denying it by our nationalities, by wars. They are denying security, total physical security, in Vietnam, though each one of them craves for security. And is there such a thing as permanent security—except an idea about it? If there is not, and there is no such thing as there is, then what is it that continues? Memory, experiences which are dead ashes of things that have been? And if you do, as so many people believe in reincarnation in different forms, as resurrection, and all the rest of it, if you do, then it matters tremendously how you live today, what you believe today, how you act, —everything matters immensely, what you do now—because the next life you are going to pay for it.

So it’s just an avoidance of the real fact of what death is. There is the death of the physical organism; and to find out what death is beyond that, can the whole psyche, with all the tendencies, pleasures, idiosyncrasies, memories, experiences, die each day, completely, without argument, without restraint, die? Have you ever tried to die to a pleasure—something that you want tremendously, that gives you great satisfaction, delight—without any reason, without any motive, without any argument, to die to it? If you can, you know what death means—to empty the mind totally of everything of the past. And it can be done, it should, that’s the only way to live, for love is that, isn't it?

Love is not thought, love is not desire, pleasure. Pleasure, desire, continues through thought; and when thought thinks about a particular pleasure, sexual or otherwise, then it ceases to be love—it's an appetite. An appetite has its own place, but we unfortunately talk a great deal about love—the churches, the books, the cinemas. If one loved, there’d be no war; you’d educate your children entirely differently, not merely condition them to certain technological knowledge; then the whole world wouldn't be mad about this thing called sex, as though they’d discovered something totally new. And we only know love as a sexual appetite, with its lusts and demands, and frustrations and despairs, jealousies, and all the travail of human mind in what is called love. So love has nothing whatsoever to do with the formula of thought; and that comes into being only when memory as thought with all its demands and pleasures comes to an end—psychologically. Then love is something entirely different.

You cannot talk about it, cannot write everlasting books about it: love of God and love of man—this division doesn't exist. But to come to that, one must not only be free from fear, but also there must be a time-ending and, therefore, understanding life. You can only understand life when you understand death. The thing that we call living is this anxiety, this despair, this sense of guilt, the endless longing, the utter loneliness, boredom—this is what we call living: constant conflict, conflict, a battlefield. In the world of business, in our daily existence at home, in the battlefields all over the world, destroying each other, this is what we call living; and actually it is a frightful mess, a deadly affair. And when that so-called living comes to an end—and it can only come to an end when one dies to the whole of it, not partial to certain fragments of it—then one lives. So, death and living go together; and for death and life to continue together, there must be dying every day to everything. Then the mind is made fresh, young, innocent. And that innocency cannot come through any drug, through any experience, it must be beyond and above all experience. A light to itself does not need any experience. Right, sirs.

(Commotion)

K: Can we talk over together in detail by asking questions about all this? Yes, madam?

Questioner (Q): Why were we put here?

K: Comment?

Q: Why are we alive?

Several: Why are we alive?

K: Ah! Why are we alive?

Several: Why are we put here?

K: Ah! Why are we put here on this Earth? Who has put you? Surely, that is . . . Please, as we said the other day: Don't let's ask irrelevant questions. What is relevant is how to live, not why you are put here. Obviously you know how we have come into being: father-mother. But we are here, and we are dying slowly, or rapidly, deteriorating, with our prosperity, with our self-centred activities. And, is it possible to live in this world—not in a monastery, isolating oneself, or isolating oneself in some conclusions, beliefs, and dogmas, or in some nationality, or in good works—but can one live? That's the real issue: I wish we could discuss that.
Yes, sir?

Q2: How does one die each day?

K: How does one die each day? Is there a method? If there is a method, then the method produces its own end, surely. If I follow a particular method—you told me how to die every day, a method, step by step—what happens? Do I die actually, or am I practising a certain method to die? And please, this is very important to understand this. The means is the end: the two are not separate. If the means is mechanical, the end is mechanical. If the means is a way of assuring pleasure, gain, profit, and all the rest of it, then the end is also that. So the means creates its own end, and one has to completely deny that means, the total means—which is time. So there is no how to die.
You understand, this sounds rather silly. Let me . . . (Phrase in French)

Sir, look, you have a certain habit: sexual, a certain habit of drinking, smoking, talking, mannerisms, temperaments. Can you die, can you completely put it away on the instant: smoking, drinking, pleasure? I know there are the methods of how to give up smoking, little by little, one by one, you know. But that’s not . . . there is no ending to that. Ending means finishing it, completely ending it, and that does take place when death actually comes, you don't argue with it.

So, can one live so completely each day, each minute, so that there is no yesterday or tomorrow? Sir, to do this requires a great deal of meditation and inward awareness. It’s not a matter of agreeing or disagreeing, or asking how is it to be done—nobody is going to tell you whether you have or have not. So, this demands a great deal of energy and insight and understanding and awareness, and the highest quality of sensitivity—which is intelligence.

After all, the drugs, LSD, and all the rest of it, makes one—not that I have taken them—makes one sensitive in a particular corner of that vast field of life. In the rest of the field one is insensitive, dull; and because one becomes highly sensitive in a particular area, seeing colours, visions, experiences, and all the rest of it, you think that’s the whole substance of life. But to understand the totality of life, one must be totally sensitive—both physiologically and psychologically. One thinks one can be highly psychologically sensitive, but physically brutal, heavy, insensitive. Life is not to be divided into fragments, and each fragment in conflict with the other. We only know this conflict, this endless effort, till we die. In the family, in the office, in the quiet moments of our life, there is never a moment of silence, a state without effort.

Q3: The other day you said the man dying in Vietnam is you. Would you speak further on this?

K: The questioner says, “The man dying in Vietnam is you. Please go into it a little more.” Madam, nous parlons . . . We are not talking of the man dying in Vietnam, we are talking of the man living here now. The man dying in Vietnam is the result of our life. We do not want peace; we talk about it endlessly. And to have peace we must live peacefully, that means: no competition, no ambition, no division as nationalities, colour prejudice—you know what it means, what it means to live peacefully? And as we don't live peacefully, we have wars in Vietnam, in India, in Russia, you know, all the rest of it.

Really, we educate our children to die, to be killed, whether in the office, in the family, or in a battlefield—and this we call living. And we are supposed to be highly civilized, sophisticated people. Too bad! So sorrow is the lot of us, and to end sorrow, one must end time, one must understand this nature of death. And where there is love, there is no sorrow; sorrow for the neighbour, or for somebody beside you or ahead of you. Where there is love, there is an ending of sorrow, not the worshipping of sorrow.

Q4: Sir, it seems, since one cannot make any effort, so it’s all a matter of accident whether anything is understood.

K: The questioner says, if we’re not to make effort, then it’s a mere accident.

Q5: An accident if anything is understood.

K: Of anything, of course. Sir, why do we make effort? First let's understand it, not if we are not to make effort. We are making effort. From the moment we are born till we die—effort, struggle. What for, why? Again, psychologically, inwardly, which if I understand rightly, then outwardly it will have a totally different meaning, this struggle, existence. So one must understand effort, this constant striving: what for, why? There is effort when there is contradiction, isn’t there? There is effort when there is comparison: you are better than I, you are much more clever, you have a better position, you are famous, and so on and so on and so on, and I am nobody, so I must reach you. That's a fact, not a supposition, this is how we function every day of our life.

We worship success. Every magazine is filled with success, and from the moment that one goes to school till we die, we are comparing, struggling, in incessant conflict, because there is a division, a contradiction between the one who compares and that which he is compared to. Through comparison we think we understand—actually we don't. To live without comparison requires tremendous intelligence and sensitivity, because then there is no example, there is no something as should be: the ideal, the hero, the example.

One begins with what actually is, and to understand what is there is no need for comparison. And when you compare, you destroy what is, you don’t understand actually what is: it's like comparing the boy to his elder brother who is very clever, and so you destroy the younger boy, and that's what we are doing all the time. When we are struggling—struggling for what, psychologically—to end violence, to have more pleasure, to have more experiences? To end violence is to come directly into contact with it in yourself, and you cannot come into contact with it if there is an ideal, as non-violence, peace, and all the rest of it. This opposite creates the conflict. But if you can look at that violence completely, with total attention, then there is no conflict, striving; it comes to an end. It is these absurd, idiotic ideals that destroy this direct contact with reality. And one can live a life without conflict, which doesn't mean you become a vegetable; on the contrary, the mind then becomes highly aware, intelligent, full of energy, passion. And it is the man in conflict that dissipates this intelligence.

Q6: Is there any difference between love and understanding?

K: Comment, madam?

Q6: Is there any difference between love and understanding?

K: Is there any difference between love and understanding? One word will cover everything, but the danger of one word is that it becomes a jargon. You can use the word love, understanding, but it really doesn't matter which word you use, because every word is loaded, like God, death, experience, love, heavy with meaning what people have given to that word. But when one realizes the word love is not the actual state, then the word doesn't matter at all.

Q7: Technology is so advanced, and the world is so populated that I wonder: How can we exist without community and politics, and therefore participation in direction of the community?

K: How can one live in this world when it’s so overpopulated, technology is so advanced, without the help of the politician . . . ?

Q7: Without participating.

K: Without participating in politics, in communal activities, and so on and so on and so on. There is only one political problem, only one, which is the unity of mankind. And you cannot have the unity of mankind if there are nationalities, if there are armies, if there is not one government—neither Democratic, nor Republican, nor Labour. When we are concerned with human beings, whether they live in Russia, or in India, or in China or here; we have the means of feeding, sheltering, clothing peoples now, but we don't do it, because—you know all the reasons—our nationalities, our religious prejudices, all the rest of it. So . . .

Q8: Is not technical knowledge and psychological knowledge tied together? Can they be separated?

K: Yes sir, we said that. But sir, just a minute; you see, you . . . Sir, this is a tremendously important point, isn’t it? How is a human being, living in this utter chaos, how can he live supremely intelligently, so that he is both a good citizen—not in a particular community; I’m talking of in the world? The world is not America or Russia or India. How can he live in this world, with such chaos and misery around him? That is the issue. Should he join the Communist Party, the Democratic Party, or some other party? Because all . . . there must be action. How shall we act together? Which end shall we begin: from the technological end, or from a totally different end, from an end which is not of time, which is not of class, which is not of any experience? If we can come to grips with that, then we shall solve all our problems.

Q9: What’s the name?

K: What?

Q9: What is the name?

K: What is the . . . ?

Q9: What is the name? Give us the name.

K: What is the name of the other? Is that it?

Q9: Yes.

K: Do you think, sir, a name will be really satisfactory? Call it X, call it God, call it love—any name: the name is not the real. Will that naming it be sufficient? Thousands of people have named it.

Q9: Give us the formula.

(Laughter)

K: He wants a formula. (Continued laughter) Nom de un chien! We have talked about formulas, an ideology. A community based on an ideology is no longer a community: they battle each other for position, prestige in that community. We are talking of something entirely different: we said a new mind is necessary—not a new technique, a new method, a new philosophy, a new drug—a new mind. And that new mind cannot come into being unless there is a dying to the old completely, emptying the mind totally of the past. Then you don't want a name, then you are living it, then you know what bliss is. It is only the innocent mind, living in this world with all the chaos round it—it is only the innocent mind that can answer these problems, not the complicated mind.