What a Game!

The brain is a blender; producing its own electricity, and furnishing its own fruit for smoothies. (He who drinks only home brew, gets not the vitamins to see the thing through.)

“What we need is an outside-consultant.”   No, what you need is an, “outside,” one you can’t distinguish from your insides; a fresh view to free you from the mental-cell-of-two-locks.  As long as your mind sees an, in-here that is separate from an, out-there, you will be forlornly trapped in the in-here, which, (sad-upon-sad), isn’t even real to begin with.

“Ah, just think about it, Dorkus, a prisoner of no-one’s, yet captured all the same.”   
  “What a game – what a jock-splitting game, my dear.”
One of the most famous of the non-existent, mystical schools of the remote mountains of Keyahka, requires for admission, either:  irrefutable proof of your seriousness or reasonable evidence of your death.   (P.S. there is a why to why all of the really neat ENLIGHTENED ONES are already dead before you get here.  Guess why.  Go ahead – take a guess.)


Those who understand what is going on, have no understanding of, “understanding.” You can’t not understand and understand what is going on.

Welcome to the locker room of impenetrable supporters!


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