A carved idol stands stiff and impressive, and it is completely dead. It cannot take a single step. It has to be lifted and carried wherever it goes, a thing that looks like power and holds none.
The mind builds these same figures out of thought. A fear, a grievance, an image of some enemy grows tall and rigid and demanding, and a person bows before it as if it were alive. Seen clearly, it can do nothing on its own. It moves only when attention picks it up and carries it. When a person stops feeding it, the fear that seemed so solid is revealed as wood that must be propped upright, and its power drains away.