Men are beings of merits. The normal self-organization of living organism is enhancend in humans to the level of consciousness. We are aware of our being there. Not bad. We have many advantages for that: we can plan entirely new scenarios; we can design brand new circumstances; we can construct further cognitive architecture. One brain alone couldn't do that. But also a bunch of brains wouldn't do the job. Why? Many buckets of cerebral matter and their information exchange is not enough to generate such a computational variety. Of course you need to take in to the account the embodied structures of those transactions. But tribes of apes are precisely that configuration and still they lack our ohmygoddishness factor of creativity. Our brains are initiate by already accelerated fellows to evoke “the beast”. The cognitive beast springs from the cultural habits and slowly takes over the cognitive architecture. 
Before your ape brain can realize it, it is fully immersed in the many narrative hallucinations of our society. We become generation something, a class of characters. We assume masks and roles to take a playable function in societies. Most of all, we become the awareness of our being there. When we start the game, we awake the beast and sooner than expected, you are riding the mind.
It takes a while, often you need some traumatic experiences: a broken heart, a swollen pride, several quantity of psychotropic substances, being the attraction of older dysfunctional cognitions, like teachers. But around full consciousness, you realize that the mind you are, is a construct. On one hand you are that thing. On the other that is the bunch of social reflection, the holographicsum of social reverberations. On the other you realize nothing in what you feel is real. Pure fiction, sometimes of a very cheap quality. When you are able to step back from your awareness, you start to feel the beast. Or better you start to feel the ride. You are riding the functionalism. 
Before you were dragged by events, the unwilling witness of happenings in a determined time space social region: you. But when you are able to detach yourself by the parade of social forces, you start to experience the sense of control. Self organization becomes something handy.
The ride is beautiful. And you shouldn't stop to thank every slice of the time space region that you are unifying in your riding (this is for you Immanuel: you deserve it dude!)
. But the joy and the glory of being a consciousness must not stop your cognitive horizon. Yes, you are riding the mind. So let disappear all the tricks and smokes of mirrors. Saint Paul is right when he claims to see though mirrors and enigmas. But after this cognitive frenzy of a teen brain, let's be serious. If you ride the social hallucinations of your brain and you are the holographic convergence of those social forces, it seems to me that you are the horizon of those hallucinations. You are the ridden beast. Enjoy the riding, but focus: there is no beast, there is no riders, there is no ride.
Impossible you say: at least the false impression is there, so even as a mistake, I'm there. This is the delusional happiness: I'm at least a mistake. Come on! This is just philosophy and
there are many more things in the heaven and earth, as I was saying to Hamlet, when the rolling world threw me as Horatio. In those days I was planning to write a novel about a writer, named William S., who was supposed to tell our story with inverted roles. Ride my brother, ride. The beast won't stop until you tame her. And misquotes are the sign of dragging: make wise use of them!
