I wonder if our propensity for voyeurism is an offshoot of our humanity. It seems that there is a fine line between empathy and compassion of the one hand and voyeuristic enjoyment of other peoples misery and misfortune on the other.

In the end one either chooses to see the glass as half empty or half full.

http://www.berkeleyzencenter.org/Lectures/april2000.shtml
In the Blue Cliff Record is a koan which concerns Baso Doitsu. Baso was big and physically very strong, a man of great stature. Once when Baso was ill, the monk who took care of the temple came to visit and asked him, “How have you been? Are you well . . . or not?” And Baso said, “Sun-faced Buddha, Moon-faced Buddha.”

The Sun-faced Buddha is supposed to live for one thousand eight hundred years. And the Moon-faced Buddha lives only one day and one night. So, when I am sick, I am like the Moon-faced Buddha. When I am healthy, I am like the Sun-faced Buddha. But neither the Sun-faced Buddha nor the Moon-faced Buddha has any special meaning. Whether I am ill or healthy, I am still practicing zazen. There is no difference. Even though I am in bed, I am Buddha. So, don’t worry about my health.

http://www.amazon.co.uk/review/R1APH8XNQKPJUM/ref=cm_cr_rdp_perm

In the ‘cons’ section (which is hysterical reading):

- Throughout the whole album I got the impression that Mike didn’t really have any dramatic-enough life experiences to draw lyrical material from.

Now, the scientist in me wants to quantify what the minimum dramatic life experiences are to be taken seriously as a ‘dope wordsmith’. Equally how painful does your life have to be for your book to get into this section, imagine the rejection letters:

“Sorry madam, whilst a touching story, in our opinion you just didn’t get beaten savagely enough as a child. Please consider resubmitting your manuscript should anything terrible happen to you in the future.”