Behind each mental formation is the faint echo of a primal cry from the wilderness – a plaintive Woe Is Me – a backdrop of depression. If you listen hard enough you'll catch it. It is the cost of a life lived in and from the head: victimhood and slavery to a set of values that invert those of the heart, largely out of spite and self-loathing.
A while ago a Buddhist friend of mine visited with his 3 year old son. At one point he denied the boy a request and the brat threw a spectacular tantrum. My friend looked to me with compassionate but passionless eyes and said: "It's terrible isn't it – they start suffering so young." I strongly objected pointing out that the boy was not suffering at all but simply letting out energy – expressing himself. My friend didn't really listen because he was already reasoning with the child – trying to teach him the awful habit of overruling heart with head. The child listened and his temper subsided. "Now he's suffering," I said.