If there is anything in a man that can be likened to an observer, something that can witness his attitudes and behaviours from an outside vantage, than this very thing can reveal what is otherwise left hidden. His thoughts, for instance, will ordinarily disguise themselves as his voice. They will churn in a continuous fashion, one thought to the next, energised by shifting moods that oscillate from positive and negative poles, and he will take this all as himself. On the rare occasion that this observer, the inner witness, is present and aware of the activity that is unfolding within his own mind, than this churning will be witnessed as a conveyer belt of estranged objects. A thought will be experienced as a single voice that intends to vie for a man’s attention. The voice wants to be taken seriously, to take the stage of the immediate moment, to sit on the throne of volition, and for a man to utterly lose himself to it. The thought becomes the man, controls the man, and he in effect becomes a marionette. The observer has the power to redeem a man’s dignity by separating himself from these many voices, and insofar as he has developed this capacity he will be able to mull and sift between them and refuse and restrict their authority — as is his right.