Vanity camouflages itself from a man’s notice. It is a nimble trickster that keeps itself out of plain sight. A man may notice a trace of it as he looks upon himself in the mirror or walks by someone along the street, but the bulk mass of its existence is typically left hidden from his awareness. It is so ingrained in his psychological makeup that he can only know it indirectly by his reactions to the affairs of his life. Some event or action transpires and he is invariably malcontent. He takes offence by some perceived insult or violation of what he consider to be an injustice to his self. Or a mere inconvenience in his daily toil annoys him with slight pangs of irritation by having his sense of comfort momentarily spoiled. His every negative reaction is like a leaf springing from a branch that has this vice of vanity as its source. He can study his vanity in all its nefarious splendour by observing how he behaves against the continual current of unexpected and unappreciated experiences that are met each day. To observe his vanity, or any other core human vice, he must first learn to dissociate himself to it. The suggested idea arises that he is not his reaction, that the event or experience has no actual relationship to his inner state of calm, and that his vanity is not an essential ingredient to who or what he actually is.