For the last few weeks I’ve been suffering from a bad case of transcendental boredom.
Actually, that’s not quite true.
I’ve been witnessing a bad case of transcendental boredom.
No, that’s not true either.
I am aware of certain thoughts and sensations, which my mind interprets as transcendental boredom, even though upon investigation my mind turns out to be nothing but a series of thoughts that arise and subside in awareness.
There is no-one who is bored. There is the awareness of restlessness.
Restlessness comes and goes, but awareness remains.
The one who is aware of restlessness is the one who is aware of excitement, happiness, fear, anger and the whole array of experience.
As soon as a feeling arises, an “I” thought arises too.
It says “I feel this” or “I feel that” or “I am this” or “I am that”.
But when I look into my direct experience the owner of the "I" can’t be found. There is no separate self. The “I” is just a thought. A single thought. A habitual thought. The whole idea of a personal identity is based on nothing but memory, which is also a thought arising and subsiding in awareness.
I am that awareness.