All this, however, is garden-variety amplification. There's also an exotic variety rarely seen outside the steamy environment of thought-watching. We've noted again and again that the very attempt to preserve thought-watching is responsible for calling these exotic types into being. The attempt to order ourselves back to thought-watching catapults us into regulation; the rescheduling of extraneous projects for a later time results in antic.i.p.ation; and so on. Similarly, we fall into an amplification when we try to reason our way back to thought-watching. For example, we may point out to ourselves that we will suffer no disadvantage from dropping the extraneous project at this time. But we can't know this to be true without a review of all the potential disadvantages. Unfortunately, there's no end of potential disadvantages to consider. And even if we could establish this premise on unshakable grounds, it wouldn't yet be enough to permit the ironclad deduction that we should get back to thought-watching. For what if we simply enjoy working on the extraneous project? Well, we're not enjoying it. We're not enjoying it, and there are no disadvantages to dropping it-that seems to be the end of the matter. But what if there's another crucial consideration that presently escapes us? What if we've made a mistake in our reasoning? We had best review the argument from the start ... being. The attempt to order ourselves back to thought-watching catapults us into regulation; the rescheduling of extraneous projects for a later time results in antic.i.p.ation; and so on. Similarly, we fall into an amplification when we try to reason our way back to thought-watching. For example, we may point out to ourselves that we will suffer no disadvantage from dropping the extraneous project at this time. But we can't know this to be true without a review of all the potential disadvantages. Unfortunately, there's no end of potential disadvantages to consider. And even if we could establish this premise on unshakable grounds, it wouldn't yet be enough to permit the ironclad deduction that we should get back to thought-watching. For what if we simply enjoy working on the extraneous project? Well, we're not enjoying it. We're not enjoying it, and there are no disadvantages to dropping it-that seems to be the end of the matter. But what if there's another crucial consideration that presently escapes us? What if we've made a mistake in our reasoning? We had best review the argument from the start ...

The last refinement of this line of thinking is reached when we realize that we have been amplifying. We then remind ourselves that amplification is a trap-but amplification is a trap-but is is it? We had best review the arguments showing that it's a trap, just to be sure. We try to escape from this new dilemma by reminding ourselves that we've it? We had best review the arguments showing that it's a trap, just to be sure. We try to escape from this new dilemma by reminding ourselves that we've already already reviewed these arguments, indeed that we've done so when we were at our keenest, so that a reconsideration at this time is entirely superfluous. We reviewed these arguments, indeed that we've done so when we were at our keenest, so that a reconsideration at this time is entirely superfluous. We know know that amplification is a trap. But do we? What if our memory is in error? that amplification is a trap. But do we? What if our memory is in error?

Division is commonly the last of three successive errors of thought-watching. We fall into a first trap by inappropriately working on some mental project-for example, we persist in the construction of a dwarf list. We fall into a second trap by making a project out of remedying the situation-for example, we try to regulate ourselves back to thought-watching. And then we fall into the third trap of division by moving back and forth between the first two traps: is commonly the last of three successive errors of thought-watching. We fall into a first trap by inappropriately working on some mental project-for example, we persist in the construction of a dwarf list. We fall into a second trap by making a project out of remedying the situation-for example, we try to regulate ourselves back to thought-watching. And then we fall into the third trap of division by moving back and forth between the first two traps: Sneezy ... Stop this nonsense! Dopey ...

Get back to thought-watching! Isn't there one that starts with an M M? No more of this!

We would do better simply to finish the dwarf-list in peace.

Naturally, a division need not be limited to two traps. We can commit any number at one sitting. The reader may find it instructive to identify the successive traps fallen into in this representative monologue (the answers are given right after the monologue): Sneezy ... Only two more names to go. But I haven't been thought-watching! I must get back to it. There's no need to work on this dwarf list. I can finish it after the session ... There-now I'm doing it. Just a few minutes more ... I'm doing it. Just a few minutes more ...

After the original persistence of "Sneezy," these thoughts are instances, respectively, of acceleration, reversion, regulation, amplification, antic.i.p.ation, formulation, and fixation. All of them together const.i.tute a rather fierce but not at all unusual division. This is what it sounds like on the inside when we first sit down to watch our thoughts.

Everything we do to get back to thought-watching seems to land us in another trap. Yet the exit is in plain sight. There's nothing mysterious here. We're simply misled by our grammatical categories. We a.s.sume that "thought-watching" is something to do because it's a verb like "eating" or "making money," and we set out to do it right. This is like a.s.suming that "Thursday" refers to a thing because it's a noun, and setting out in search of its precise geographical location. In fact, thought-watching isn't a project at all. It isn't a matter of doing, but of a.s.sume that "thought-watching" is something to do because it's a verb like "eating" or "making money," and we set out to do it right. This is like a.s.suming that "Thursday" refers to a thing because it's a noun, and setting out in search of its precise geographical location. In fact, thought-watching isn't a project at all. It isn't a matter of doing, but of ceasing ceasing to do. Thought-watching is the condition we're in when, remaining wide awake, we no longer do anything. Thus we can't to do. Thought-watching is the condition we're in when, remaining wide awake, we no longer do anything. Thus we can't do do thought-watching at all; we can only let it happen. If we try to stop an intrusive project by an act of some sort, then that act itself must inevitably become a second intrusive project. We get nowhere by cursing at ourselves, constructing good arguments, or laying down the law. The only remedy is to drop it-and thought-watching at all; we can only let it happen. If we try to stop an intrusive project by an act of some sort, then that act itself must inevitably become a second intrusive project. We get nowhere by cursing at ourselves, constructing good arguments, or laying down the law. The only remedy is to drop it-and saying saying "Drop it!" is not dropping it. "Drop it!" is not dropping it.

When we're thought-watching, we literally have nothing to do. Yet we manage to create a monumental round of ch.o.r.es and problems out of this nothing. Is it any wonder that we needlessly complicate our work when there is is something to be done? something to be done?

Primary thanks go to a succession of teachers of the art of living: Lao Tse, Gautama Buddha, G. I. Gurdjieff, Carl Jung, Krishnamurti, Aldous Huxley, Philip Kapleau, Robert Aitken, Nechung Rinpoche, Ram Da.s.s, and Kaila Kukla. For getting the book out there, however, I have to thank my agent, Robert Mackwood. What they say is true: you need a good agent. I tried and failed to get the attention of publishers for years before Robert came along and sold the book to two of them within a couple of weeks.

Having two simultaneous publishers- Doubleday in Canada and McGraw-Hill in the US-has been an interesting experience. For one thing, it seems that there are national differences in punctuation practices: one copy editor deleted most of my commas, while the other one nearly doubled their number. But the main consequence of my dual literary citizenship has been that it brought me into contact with two of the most helpful and most pleasant people that I've ever worked with-my Canadian editor, Nick Ma.s.sey-Garrison, and my American editor, Holly McGuire. Their enthusiasm and support have been unflagging. They've lavished my project with care as though it were their own. Holly sent me about a dozen e-mails on the precise wording of the subt.i.tle; and Nick, who seems to have understood the book better than I have, made suggestions that led to major structural improvements. Thanks, Nick and Holly. of my dual literary citizenship has been that it brought me into contact with two of the most helpful and most pleasant people that I've ever worked with-my Canadian editor, Nick Ma.s.sey-Garrison, and my American editor, Holly McGuire. Their enthusiasm and support have been unflagging. They've lavished my project with care as though it were their own. Holly sent me about a dozen e-mails on the precise wording of the subt.i.tle; and Nick, who seems to have understood the book better than I have, made suggestions that led to major structural improvements. Thanks, Nick and Holly.

About the Author.

Andre Kukla is Professor Emeritus at the University of Toronto, and has taught in both the Departments of Psychology and of Philosophy. He has published numerous philosophical and psychological articles and books, including books by Oxford and MIT Press.