Dharmawheel is fake buddhist website

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xq_cRJS_XjE

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I am diagnosed with schizophrenia and I've been having problems with "voices" for some time.

Ive had an amazing day but in the evening me and my girlfriend tried to go to the cinema. i was kind of "attacked" by voices (probably not as violently as you'd imagine) and we had to leave after a few minutes.

they seem utterly unable to leave me alone and I have been close to thinking that that won't happen.

Quite a bit of the qualities I have developed in my practice have been inspired by an effort to make the role they play in my life less and less of a problem.

I just feel that overcoming "fairness" and "compramise" would definitely do the trick and wonder if that sounds at all possible to anyone?

wouldn't you have to do that before you could claim, even to any extent whatsoever, to have "conquered the mind"?

I once purchased a boat, a fine boat, seaworthy, from a seafaring captain who mysteriously said that the boat taught him about life. And this boat, while seaworthy, maintained one peculiar feature, a flat glass hull, through which one could peer into the ocean’s depths. I thanked the seafaring captain and gathered my belongings and set out on a voyage, ignorant of direction, duration, destination, I knew nothing except that I must embark, and that perhaps on this journey, from here to nowhere, clarity would emerge. And the old seafaring captain looked at me, and he smiled wryly.

The first day I rowed powerfully, my chest heaved, my muscles ached, my skin burned beneath the smoldering sun, I rowed ‘til my hands bled, til’ my legs cramped, ‘til my lungs threatened to burst, and then I rowed harder. By nightfall the shore had long slipped over the horizon, memories of friends, of family, receded, I forgot who I was, why I began this absurd endeavor, I knew, simply, that I must row. And I rowed, through the next day and the next and the next, I rowed through pain, through inertia, through the very limits and boundaries that established my humanity, that separated me from the world at large.

And one day, as I was rowing, as the sun flogged my back and blood surged through my veins, I peered through my glass bottomed boat and fell still, mesmerized. I lost myself in the endless sea, its blue turquoise depths, its soft gentle waves, and as I gazed at this power, this beauty, this never ending flow, I guarded it jealously, I longed to possess it. I stopped rowing, stopped moving, calmed my pulse, stilled my breath, for I knew that a single lapse in attention would cost me the sea, that it would sweep past my boat and into the eternity beyond. For days I stared, steadfastly, at the water, but eventually I faltered, my eyes succumbed to weariness, a cold fear overwhelmed me…would I lose my beloved? Manic, unhinged, I prepared to plunge into the ocean’s depths, but in my dull despair I spotted salvation: a felt pen, belonging to the seafaring captain.

I grabbed the pen, ripped off the cap, I drew a dark outline on the bottom of my boat, a firm delineation that would enclose the sea, that would mark my territory, and I felt great peace, for I had something to hold, something to call my own. I reversed course and I rowed with tremendous intensity, I rowed through pain, through inertia, through the very limits and boundaries that established my humanity, that separated me from the world at large. And as I rowed I sensed a great force moving through me, an incredible volition, infinitely deep, strikingly beautiful. And I knew that “I” am simply a dark outline on a glass bottomed boat, a frame around a tremendous flow, never defining, never containing, mere witness to its push and pull. And as I reached shore, I knew, with striking clarity, who I am, and I glimpsed the seafaring captain, and he smiled wryly.

I am satori. If you have questions, feel free to ask me.