The faux knowers of the world are distinguished by their knotted brows and underwear and nothing else. (Unless there proves to be a special afterlife refuge for those in whom life placed an overabundance of fear hormones.)
When the ethereal voices fueled by the juices speak to you of doom, remind them that when you go – they go, and pull some of your higher-ground neurons from the overflow, headed-nowhere sludge, and you will have no interest any way in matters of coming-or-going.
In the University of Life, the required primary reality courses confer the satisfactions. Second reality activities are electives, things to yack about over a pitcher of beer. Hormones and primary reality are places of necessities; off campus neurons and their second reality lives
are a never ending popularity contest.
Question:
How can you spot a true Neural Knight?
He is the one who, once fully engaged in The Quest,
you cannot tell which way he is headed.
“Pa, how do you know you are there when you get there?”
“You no longer have such questions as that one.”
J.