I have seen many familiar faces today; some for the first time in several months. There is a recognition there, but at the same time, I do not know them. It may seem natural to say that you know someone, but in this organism, there is nothing more unnatural.
If I see my brother, there is recognition there. But I can never say, "I know him." There are memories, obviously. I can remember the things we have done, certain situations and events. But that is all of the past. If I say I know him, it is due to memory. And memory is of the past, and therefore, unchanging and immutable. That would mean that he has no chance of ever being different from what I remember. I effectively kill him with my mind, because I cannot see him at all. I only see my image of him; my memory of him.
This is why the living in the image, living through thought, is inherently violent. One kills the possibility of reality, of seeing what is. There is no true sight, only the remembered image.
If I meet with you, why should I rely on my memory to tell me anything? You are there, and I have no need to imagine you. After all, If I wanted to think about you or imagine you, I could have just stayed home.
Living life through thought, through the image, is living a life of violence. It is the killing of what is.
How many people have you killed today?