Necessity Has No Restraints
Audio = Stream the audio from the box below. The first 13 minutes is members of the Atlanta Group reading the AKS – the And Kyroot said……
Video = Vneeded = not on youtube
AKS/News Items = See Below
AKS/News Item Gallery = jcap (0265) 1986-01-09
Summary = See Below
Excursion / Task = See Below
Diagrams = None
Transcript = Tneed Edit before posting
#265 *Jun 18, 1987* – 1:35
Notes by TK
[Kyroot reading to :13. ]
This Thing is the constant struggle to keep language from strangling understanding. Yet paradoxically J. uses same with Group. When thinking-of-action is limited, so is the possibility of taking action. Should be aware that you are unable to do something new; that you can only think about all the things you have thought about before. Consciousness can’t comprehend itself; can’t lift itself; can’t see its absolute equality with say, the liver –although it can believe otherwise. Life is absolutely impartial toward man at the personal level; this is the fundamental offense to horizontal consciousness; the worst treatment possible. Horizontal consciousness cannot entertain the notion that Life doesn’t favor or disapprove of him individually.
Maxim: “Necessity has no restraints”. Life could not grow thru absolute restraints. Moderation will not do for Life’s purposes.
Why does no conflict ever arise over the obvious? No schools of thought, opposing factions etc. over such as say, “night follows day”? Why is it molecularly impossible? The Few need to recognize and appreciate the importance of ‘hypocrisy’ since man is wired up to automatically oppose all obvious change. Consider the value of pretense to unpossessed qualities as a boon to growth and change. Hypocrisy is necessary and can have no restraint. Interestingly, hypocrisy is universally criticized and the ideal of truthfulness constantly espoused by men. Whereas hypocrisy is reality-sustaining; it is the life of the Yellow Circuit.
A True Revolutionary would cry out: “If even the truth is against us, then we’ll fight the truth!” If you have 4-D conscious awareness (ad-hoc process perception) of a seamless universe, you see language and memory as a strangling limitation: an ad-hoc representation only. A Real Revolutionist understands that all truth is only ad-hoc. Real Revolution is unconditional revolution.
A Real Revolutionist would also be an artist and therefore perform for a very distinct audience: the audience of Life itself. The Few act as interface of Life’s self-appraisal; the focal plane of the mirror. The controversy/volatility of art is based on the necessarily diluted perception of the certainty and pleasure that was the artist’s during his creating.
1:30 TASK: “Bombs away”: If every day were meeting day I could…” Consider this actual quote from an ordinary revolutionary: “The revolutionary is a doomed man; he has no sustaining interests but the revolution.”
Copyright 1986 J. M. Cox
…and Kyroot said:
An earthling once heard my question of whether one’s “I” is
a noun or a verb, and after some thought told me, “‘I’ must be
a noun; is it not the beginning of every important sentence?”
I once heard a head-doctor dismiss certain patients with the
disdainful comment that “Hypochondriacs are sick people.” After
pondering exactly what he had said, I thought it might prove
interesting to question him on it…then I thought better of it.
If words were truly foreplay to real understanding, most men
would reside in a state of terminal horniness.
And at the northern edge of the forest they found a
discarded, aluminized travel brochure that spoke of a place as
“The land with no name and phones without numbers.” (Those with
the greater weariness eventually tried to smoke the metal
If so-called “facts” are that which is repeatable, are facts
nouns or verbs? Are they objects or systems? Be they static or
variable? Do you take my comments as “facts”? (Speed is surely
a prime number. A true scientist and examiner-of-facts would be
he who could think the hundred yard dash in 6.3.)
The longer I associate with Man, the more I wonder, is it
his natural condition to always “almost have it”?
A man was once told that “Happiness is just a state of
mind.” He cut his eyes to the right for a moment, then went into
an absolute rage, screaming, “Damn, don’t tell me that.”
A man once heard a tale regarding a “magic tapestry,” which,
if one could make and possess, would “reveal all.” The man spent
the better part of the next twenty-two years roaming the earth,
collecting the many various pieces to construct his magic cloth.
But after all of his efforts, a small corner piece remained
missing. After much brooding over this final incompletion,
someone pointed out that he was the same shape as the missing
A scientist involved with exotic experimentation concluded
that particles hurtling away from one another at unbelievably
fast speeds were still somehow engaged in instant communication.
He was hailed and accepted. Then a color blind CPA in Peoria
discovered a similar situation regarding what the human mind
accepts and rejects, but no one could accept his findings.
I once heard of a place where the powers-that-be had
secretly placed a man in charge of periodically confronting the
leaders, asking them to respond to questions and charges he said
had been made, but which the powers themselves had given him.
This may strike you as odd, but that area grew and flourished.
With “I’s” in the back of one’s head, would not the future
be then clear.
Now then, children, let us sing today’s little song: “Let
us learn, learn, learn; Let us forget, forget, forget. Now let
us remember all of this, all at once, all the time.”
In the midst of a mortal crowd, I once heard a voice cry,
“I’ve entered this damned contest so many times that I’ve
forgotten what the prize is.”
Near the city of Farfadia, I once discovered a man whose
business consisted of listening to your problem, then telling you
to forget about it, that he would take it over, and then send you
a monthly bill forever. After his initial meeting with his
clients I could never see that he did anything more than send
them his monthly bill, but many spoke of the benefit of his
services and many seemed to get better.
There was once a man who was convinced that a number was
missing from the accepted numerical system, and after many hot
years of search and sweat he discovered the “missing number,” but
he couldn’t prove it, for none of the known numbers can add up to
Who could enjoy a book with no title? But who can see that
a joy with no name is a joy times three.
A man once noted to himself that the intellectuals of the
world were without a true spectator sport, and after some
thought, he arranged a kind of “thinking match” between
appropriate participants, with special EEG’s hooked to their
heads that projected their cerebral activities into large,
colorful holograms. Well, it all seemed to be going pretty
smoothly until he encountered a certain snag in his “all
intellectual activity” scenario. He found that only certain
physically oriented men with gangly oriented tongues could
function as commentators. Artists, 2; Philistines, 2 — as we
pause for this word from our sponsors.
What be it that man seeks in the mystical-far-away and in
the divine-out-of-reach? What would he say if he found a current
that was its own source and a power that to its own amp be true?
(I have not the heart to comment upon the shocking implications
A man was once brought before the bar of justice on two
charges and after his trial was completed, the court sentenced
him to “death plus 40 years.” As they were leading him away, his
attorney slapped him on the back and commended him on his luck,
in that he could have received 60 years on the lesser charge.
(Is this a parable, or what?)
I once attended a lecture on the subject of “Ennui,” and
afterwards as the crowd was leaving I overheard a man say, “How
utterly boring.” (I learned later that this was the same person
who after reading a book entitled, “The Unrecognized Impact of
Theory, Belief and Assumption” dismissed the author’s efforts by
declaring, “Well, that’s his opinion.”
Would not the ultimate faux pas be in pronouncing the phrase
as “fox pass”? (Or am I being terminally tacky to even mention
this possibility to the red-eyed-literati?)
A man once discovered a way to “open doors” into the
supporting fabric of life itself, but he found he could make no
sense of what he saw therein, and decided he needed to construct
some kind of new viewing apparatus through which to study these
areas, and which would translate the scenes into comprehensible
data. But one Monday, whilst working on said machine, he opened
one of the doors to discover another person looking back at him,
and before he could blink, the other figure looked over its
shoulder, apparently speaking to someone else on its side of the
door and said, “Hey, I’ve found a door that opens on to a
In the condo-forest just west of the Mimimost Valley, two
rival mystical clans arose whose every turn seemed based on the
desire to outdo the other. One faction finally put their
activities in the form of a systematic religion and built a
structure with a sign announcing, “The Church of the Matter-of-
Factness.” Not playing dead, the other clan rose up, constructed
their own edifice directly across the street with the name of,
“Yeah, Tell Me All About It.” (Those who say that “tolerance is
its own reward” have a lot to learn about mechanical design.)
If you’ll always smile before you criticize, someone’s life
will pass before your eyes. (Now that I’ve said it, I don’t know
whether this is humorous verse or worse.)
When I first came to this planet I readily fell into the
habit of reading man’s daily newspapers; that is, until one day
while perusing one of these periodicals, being carried along by
the passion of its coverage and marveling at its facility to so
quickly report on important instant affairs, I noticed that the
paper was two years old. (Now, boys and girls: Have any of you
ever discovered this, even when it wasn’t so?)
I once decided I would write a book and tell absolutely
everything I know. But then I thought, “That’s impossible; you
can’t live long enough to ever catch up to date.” Then I asked
myself, “Well, how long would you like to live?” And I said,
“See, now that you’ve said that, it’s even more impossible.”
(Apropos to little, perhaps, but why does the phrase, “more
impossible” have such a satisfying — no, more than satisfying —
I once heard of a doctor who claimed he could cure any human
illness, and finding a loose Tuesday, I tracked him to his lair,
where I discovered that indeed, he forthwith announced to every
incoming patient that he could cure all illness, but when
informed of the person’s ailment, he quickly added, “Except that
one.” Eight years ago I visited a planet that staged a curious
event. On a multidimensional track people would run off in
three different directions. And if you think that was peculiar,
their newspaper had an athletic critic.
Part of the intricacy of speaking about This is in making
those assured of its complexity see its basic simplicity, and in
making those who believe it is simple see their own simplicity.
Human sentences do not display the same acceleration and braking
speed as do their equations.
I once heard a voice from a nearby galaxy which cried, “No,
don’t hit me again,” and the tone was serious enough to make me
investigate. But as I drew near, a voice from another region
declared, “Don’t be silly, you know suicide is impossible.”
(People can sure talk funny in other places.)
There was once a man who gained the reputation of a teacher.
His words seemed to enlighten, his encouragements became self-
fulfilling, and his mere presence appeared to heal and comfort.
His activities and renown became such that many people flocked to
him as students and followers. One particular person who was
herein attracted, although duly impressed and inspired, was
nonetheless sorely troubled over the possibility, as he put it,
that the teacher could be a “fake.” One fine day he found
himself alone, face to face with the great-one, and after some
hesitation and verbal fumbling, laid out his fears that his
chosen leader could possibly be a “fake.” At this, the
ostensible teacher literally roared with laughter and said,
“Never you mind; it’s never-you-mind-time. Don’t you know what
an extraordinary man it would take to fake this.”