Stand apart in a crowded room. Now slap yourself. Feels good doesn't it? Don't sweat, don't get embarassed. You're nothing. You don't even exist baba, you are that tiny little loop analysing yourself. In a weird twist of fate, you've got some control over your machinery, the machinery that transports you around the block, round the bend, and diving into the river rushing.
A good slap in public reminds you that you and them are nothing. What does it matter. Don't feel, accept that you have moved a hand and it has hit your face. So what? Does that change things? No it doesn't. You're still the same wonderful loop, the same wonderful machinery. So well-oiled. That control you feel, that is the infinite possibilities changing into one, thanks to all factors, the universe's eddy of changing waters, dreaming up a man (thats you baba).
You don't have control. You could not help yourself. It was set before you existed, and other things will be set after you exist. Let that become one. You are the slap.
Feel that sting and love it.
Succor it to your breast.