The Son of Man, a collection of sticks, wrapped in a leaky bag of meat, blood and wastes and saddled with the stupor of the senses, apparently lurches forward nipped by the hyenas of rajas and tamas or craving the carrot of sattwa, this ignorant upadi toils in the mine of maya oblivious of the blankets of ignorance swaddling the christ child in the manger of their heart. turned away from the Inn, the christ child was born amongst the animals assuring its crucifixion on the karmic wheel of life and death. after petting the donkey of pleasure and feeding the swine of fear they eventually attend to the wailing child of their higher nature to realize it is indeed the star in the east.