The Power of Ideas

The intrinsic and ignored power of ideas is in the fact that, once they have made up a new notion, they can immediately ignore the fact that they just made it up, and instantly start to treat the new, made-up idea as though it is as naturally real and solid as any rock a man might find laying around on the ground.


You can do this if you wanna – you’re supposed to do this – as a human being you’re entitled to do it.  You can Do It If You Wanna, but if you DO, you’re gonna find yourself living partially, (if not largely), in a life filled with explanations, but with no comprehension.


If you go out knowingly to play ball in the rain, don’t play the idiot and later pretend to be astonished at the mud on your shoes.


You play with the sleeping – you sleep.  Kick around ideas with idiots, and idiot ideas kick you around.  Critique hack dramatists, and find yourself the archivist for all of history’s tabloids.


All criticism is criticism of stuff that man’s mind has made up (the second reality).
No one criticizes REAL reality, (dirt being dirty, water being wet).   Only idiots, seriously playing idiots’ games, debate the finer points of the rules.  There are no rules other than the ones that men’s minds are forever making up, as the game goes along.


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Non-Laying-Around Reality

“An insightfully provocative drama that freshly addresses all the major human conundrums; an unforgettable evening of theatre,” is what the advertisement promised.  “A tediously pretentious rehashing of long discredited sophomoric, mental caterwauling; a complete waste of time,” countered a revered reviewer, and one man who somehow ended up on planet Earth mused: “No doubt I am in for an interesting time to be in a place where criticism passes for intelligence; a comment which, while contextually comprehensible, is a bit excessive once one recognizes the true quality of those human activities not directly connected to food, sex, or getting in out of the cold.”


To a man with the always-open, cold blooded, impartial view of a fish I, the constructional facts of this planet are plain.  There is the hard reality of what you find already here, stuff just laying around on, and in the ground stuff to eat, stuff to drink, stuff to heat and forge into other more useful stuff.


Then there is another kind of, non-laying-around reality, which was not already here before humans appeared; stuff that now exists only because men’s minds made the stuff up.  Plays, sciences, symphonies, religions, philosophies, and stories of all stripes, all the stuff that humans use to fill up the times between eating, fucking and sleeping.  Stuff that can be quite entertaining, but stuff whose history, ordinary minds ignore.


A man with that non-standard longing permits his thinking to do so at his own severe expense, n that he will waste his energy attempting to blow away smoke dreams of windmills, and correct the voices that speak for made-up stuff.


Dirt is real – all ideas are made up – the ideas that afterward proclaim to be of supreme significance.  (Such as ideas purporting to pinpoint man’s origin, and to describe reality after his death).


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The Reasons cum Excuses

Time for: the Reasons cum Excuses, (starting with the first):

1.      The reason these writings seem to lack a systematic coherency is that they are not the work of one man, but of a committee composed of several de-frocked sufis, some disbarred zennists, the stray kabbalist, and a blind taoist usually doing the proofing.


      2.   The reason the style, tone and quality of these writings varies so greatly from day to day, is because the style tone and quality of my thinking varies so greatly from day to day.



      3.   The reason that some days what I write seems familiar to you and on other days it does not, is because some days I have difficulty finding anything suitable to plagiarize.



      4.   The reason that some days you like and understand what I write about, and other days you don’t, is because you’re nuts.


Oh yeah, the weekly reminder:  Any reference made to me personally in these writings is purely a bit of fiction.



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Wash Your Thoughts, Not Your Hands

Wash your thoughts, not your hands, and watch your hands, not your thoughts.


When the behavers and the talkers start choosing up sides, manage not to be there.  (Either that or learn how to make your instincts speak, so that you can hear them talking aloud in your head.)

An awakened man lives with a stranger. 
Everyone lives with a stranger.
An awakened man KNOWS 
that he lives with a stranger.


Fashion Tip for The Few:

If you think you’re ugly – don’t look in the mirror.


Oh, you have to leave so soon?  Well, one more before you go: 

No one knows what “you” is, nor can anyone know; the closest you can come to knowing is, “passing out.”  (Hey, you okay?…You look a bit pale?!)


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Nothing Personal

No system can understand itself based on an explanation coming from within the system.  (Don’t drink the water – wherever you are – for it is being polluted simply by your being there.)

Under ordinary conditions, no one has a mind of their own.  Their mind is your mind, and your mind, part of theirs.  Everybody is sharing just one big mind.  (Nothing personal about it.)


Notice Regarding Thinking and the Question of Honesty:  
Everyone’s on the take.

One guys says he now finds only one thing laugh-out-loud-funny: that’s when he is alone and has some thought about, ”how awake he is.”

First Verse:  What you think is not important – only what you think ABOUT. 

Second Verse: What you think about is not important, rather, what you think WITH.


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How Life Works

The brain concocted the notion of you having a “self” so as to make a life of habit and redundancy seem more acceptable, in that you can then pretend it is “you”  who decided to
live like that.

One guys says, “If I thought people were really serious in what they say – I’d cut my throat.”

Ordinary consciousness is like a scout
who constantly sends back reports prematurely.

How Life Works:

Everyone stands around staring, until someone moves, then everyone stops staring long enough to react, which gives still other starers something to momentarily react to – and on and on doth life so roll…


One guy says, “The most awake man I ever knew said that he did not know what ‘being asleep’ meant, and if I did, then I was asleep.”  You can never answer the question, “Why does a cube have six sides,” since what causes it is the same thing that causes you to ask.



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A Built-In Clock

The reason that men came up with the notion that ideas are either right or wrong is because all ideas are lunacy, but having a perceived choice between two possibilities enables a man to claim a distinction between his right ones and any ideas that oppose his, (which by the process of elimination, would be the wrong ones).  “Lunacy, lunacy – my kingdom for lunacy – would be a bargain at half the price.”


Ordinary consciousness has a built-in clock –
the extraordinary version does not.


After hearing a minister say that the way you can be sure it is the voice of god you hear talking to you is that he is “always consistent,” a man mused, “In that case, my thoughts are god, for if they are anything they are consistent.  JEEZE are they consistent!”  (Okay, boy and girls, can you tell me how to spell “consistency” using only the letters, m,e,a,n,i,n,g.l,e,s,s?)

Ordinary people think of progress as the regaining of their usual health after an illness.  Your sole bumper sticker should be:  “You Can’t NOT Get There From Here.” 

The bio read, “He began to understand that he was not merely selling model trains to young boys, but was selling them a dream.”  This is not so confined, for whenever you buy a book, a CD, a fashionable swimsuit, a movie or sports ticket, you are buying a dream.   No matter the object or event pursued, what you are hoping to purchase is a dream that the object or event will trigger in your thoughts.


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and Trains that Fly

Look at the batting line up – there is no slot listed for players who don’t want to play; examine the train schedules – there are not any going nowhere.  None of them are actually going anywhere, but with ordinary travelers, at least the pretense is made.


What’s the Few to do?!?!?!?!…Okay; as is always, constantly and forever the case, there are all kinds of things you can do.  Since we are here dealing in words, and since words have to get in line, and present themselves one at a time, here is one of the kinds of things that the would-be extreme traveler, thoroughly unsatisfied with man’s divided state, can do as he awaits the appearance of “The Savior,” (aka trains that fly).


Move your talking part into the behaving camp and vice versa, and once you instantly experience its value and recognize what it reveals about your coherent nature, you can mix it up in various personal combinations.  Until you finally realize that it doesn’t matter anyway; you’ve never ever really been divided into two of anything; you’ve always been just one big lump with part of the lump saying that it is separate from the overall lump.  (What lumpy attempt at humor – Hah!)


Be ye behaver or talker, if you persist in resisting, and thus continually deny reality, it ain’t so damn funny.  If you keep resisting the reality of what you ARE through the lousy trick of taking what the thoughts in your head SAY you are, you will never catch on to the REAL JOKE in life.

All would-be, “waker-uppers” and “enlightened mystics” want to know the truth, (always have), but none of ‘em wanna know a really good joke…do YOU?!

Hi ho from here for today!


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This or That and Apple Pie

Those with this interest do not like being trapped.  Oh, both the behavers and the talkers will exclaim distaste for being physically confined.  Neither one feels that special sense of imprisonment so dear to the hearts of The Few.  These people have no natural commitment to being either a full time behaver or talker, and thus without a firm allegiance to either camp, they feel more trapped, and at loose ends than do most homo sapiens.


The Few are not merely people without a country, but people with no interest in one.  They are not simply rebels without a cause, but rebels beyond the reach of causes.  They just are what they are; neither strict behavers, nor committed talkers; not really much of THIS or of THAT.


What these people actually long for, (whether they ever see it like this or not), is release from the common obligation of collective man to pretend to be either like this or like that.  A man who says to himself: “I want to wake up,” is really saying: “I am not satisfied in being part of any distinguishable division.”  And when he says to himself: “I want to know the truth,” he is in fact saying: “I am truly unsettled by having these apparent divisions IN me!”


“It’s as though I have somehow swallowed both a rambunctious behaver, and a pedantic talker. It seems somehow that I am both asleep and awake, both enlightened yet as dense as a brick.” For the Few being “asleep” is being internally divided; yet feeling so divided is man’s normal condition.  It is collateral with having a brain that produces thought.  Nothing could be more natural.  Yet nothing, (for the Few), could be more annoying.


A house divided against itself is a distracted structure.  Such a building is driven to constant dreams of remodeling, or “self-improvement.”  A nation torn apart by partisan politics or religion is as wholesome as a warm apple pie, and a man who says one thing and does another probably has the mother who baked the nice pie.


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Behavers and Talkers

Behavers see life as primarily one of the body, and live a more physically-based existence than do talkers.  They find most of their pleasure in the survival instincts:  eating, screwing, running and resting, with their talking primarily given to gossip.


Talkers, (while of course also living a life of the body), see life mainly as a mental affair, living largely in their heads, and deriving singular pleasure and pain in games of thought.  (Note that to be a talker does not require overt speech; a recluse, continually talking to himself, readily qualifies.)


The behavers and the talkers each have their own cultures, with their own music, art, mythology, religion, heroes, games, sports, literature and dance.  As a whole, they have a vaguely defined, separate sense of what constitutes real “intelligence.”


Strict behavers have no interest in the idea that man does not commonly live in as conscious a talking state as he could, (since their specific interest IN that area is minimal).  The more extreme talkers likewise have no fondness for the notion of there being a more enlightened state of talking possible, (since the achieving of same is at the expense of their primary interest in life – their present talking state).


None but the few, (not the righteous, Little Joe), fall adequately outside and inside the two noted extremes, and are thus suited to that anomalously extreme adventure called, “Looking for the Door.”


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