It is a cultural habit, particularly in the Western world, to look for a change of mood so that every event in your life is a surprise. In England, even though you know that you are going to have four o’clock tea, when the maid actually comes with the tea, everybody says, “Ah, there comes the maid with the tea! Let’s have tea! Please help yourselves to the cake!” When dinner comes, “It’s dinnertime!” It is as if the unfinished or badly handled part of your late-afternoon life has been cheered up by having dinner, so life is worth living once more. Then it’s bedtime. “You should get some sleep! You could have cocoa or hot milk, if you like! Have pleasant dreams!” And in the morning, when you wake up, they say, “Did you have a good night? Here is breakfast! Have some fruit juice!” There is always another shift of gear, a constant attempt to please, the pathetic gesture of trying to cheer oneself up each moment. It is like climbing a staircase: when you come down the staircase, you have to climb back up, then you come down again and climb back up and come back down. In this approach, you never face life. Not only is it pathetic, it drives people mad.
As far as we are concerned, life is a big blanket. It covers everything, and although there may be occasional bumps, it is still a blanket. Awareness is a big blanket, too. It is good and healthy all the way, so we do not have to scale down and then cheer ourselves up, back and forth. In our approach, drinking a cup of tea in the late afternoon is not a lifesaver, it’s just drinking a cup of tea in the afternoon. Having dinner is a slightly bigger deal, I must admit, but it is still just eating dinner, not a particularly extraordinary event. We have lost the meaning of celebration and ceremony by holding those little ceremonies, which are not real ceremonies, but simply attempts to cheer ourselves up.