Take a fresh breath, look away from these words for a moment, and willfully pursue in your own head the question: “How could it be literally possible, inside the confines of my mind and thinking, for me to tell me a lie? There is nothing in there but the endlessly coming and going of the thoughts that magically appear, beyond my request or control. So on what observable basis, inside my own head, rests this notion which automatically strikes all men as valid, that I, for some reason or for any reason, none of which under scrutiny are anything less than patently insane – comes the idea that I lie to myself? Not only that I do it, but that it is possible for me to do it? How have I so long believed this to be true, when only a day or so of hard, relentless chasing after this varmint, will explode it back into the realm of fairy tales.”
For the few born with that special neural corner, the potential to see through this commonly accepted sham, (‘course being commonly accepted renders it fact amongst the commoners), failure to go after it is a staggering opportunity missed.
You must stay on the chase ‘til you run the matter down. At the outset it is a frustrating ride through valleys of mirrors. You try to ponder, (thoughts pretend to ponder): “Do I tell lies about myself to myself?” The thought asking the question, pauses in apparent appropriate reflection and then answers: “I do not.”
(Any surprise here to you?) Even if one here and there will admit that it may have at times engaged in “self-protective exaggeration.” It was understandable given the exigency of the moment, but keep your eye on the quarry, and you will see that even such a rare admission has no impact whatsoever on this situation. Thoughts being beamed to your brain, (including the one which confessed), will continue unabated to make normally uncontested, dogmatic declarations of: What kind of person you are, and what you truly think and believe, which are simply, reality observably not true.
They sound true to the part of your brain established to listen to the pronouncements, (which is Charlie McCarthy to Edgar Bergan. The brain’s listening part is to its speaking part, its Siamese twin, its own reflection. For those of you with a gargantuan potential, it is the same thing as the speaker. (“Hey, how’d this other guy get in my room?” “Don’t be silly, there can never be anyone here but you.”) You continue to confuse yourself by believing that you even ask the question of anyone but yourself, or that anyone other than the same brain which asked the question is now giving this response.
J.