Why do we accumulate? We seek security through accumulation, money, possessions, beliefs, ideas, knowledge, conclusions and so on, and we like these to remain unchallenged and undisturbed. There is therefore attachment and also denial, as we avoid the true substance of certain facts in the myopia of our clinging. Can you see what is happening? Our defence against pain is to accumulate, to increase our attachments, but the very act of accumulating increases the fear of losing. We only ever fear losing what is known to us, we cannot fear the unknown because we don’t know what that is. We can only fear losing the accumulated known, and the possibility of that existing in the future we call the unknown. The very act of relying ever more deeply on accumulation increases our fear. Fear exists in relation to attachment, to accumulation, to losing that with which we have built up across our life. Our action to prevent pain actually increases our pain. Clarity is to see that accumulation does not bring security, accumulation only ever leads to fear – the fear of losing. Our ignorance of the shape of fear creates the theft of land ownership from nature, a divide of acquisitions that invades everything – manifest by the omnipresence of walls, barriers and fences. We feel safe in our own little corner, though this safety is no more than a chimera and is therefore corrupt. The craving for psychological security – by you, by me – itself breeds physical insecurity. We can debate and argue as much as we like but if look at the world, it is so. Division and conflict are of course inescapable as some live in poverty, hopelessness and despair whilst others rejoice in ostentatious consumption and privilege. A human being who does not feel deeply responsible for the mind of humanity as a whole is both shallow and petty. He will never discover truth, he will only discover what he is which is enclosed. He may try to become successful, intelligent, erudite or clever but he will still be petty, narrow and limited. Acknowledgement of one’s own pettiness, rather than one’s effort to be free of pettiness (which is an escape), is the first sign of greatness.