I scratch, but the itch just will not leave. In fact, it feels like I’m scratching the wrong area. My brain tells me the itch is on my leg, but scratching there, it seems the itch moves to a different part of my body. I do not know what to do.
Here is an exerpt of the book I read, called Buddhism.
Imagine that you see people seated at a sumptuous banquet. Long tables piled high with delicacies spread out before them. A dazzling and mouth-watering array of foods, perfectly prepared, is steaming and glierning and sizzling right in front of their eyese, eaily within reach.
But the people seated at this feast aren’t eating. In fact, their plates are empty. They haven’t helped themselves to do much as a crumb. They’ve been seated at this banquet for a long time now. And they’re slowly and steadily starving to death.
They’re starving not because they can’t partake of the wonderful feast, or because eating is forbidden, or difficult, or harmful. They’re starving because they don’t realize that food is that they need. They don’t recognize the sharp, urgent pains in their stomachs as hunger. They don’t see that what they need to do, all they need to do, is enjoy the feast that’s right in front of them.