Describing the Revolutionist
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AKS/News Item Gallery= jcap 1988-02-04 (0359)
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Presentations from the Group in last hour
Jan Cox Talk #0359 – Jun 27, 1988 * – TRT 1:52
Notes by TK
Kyroot to :07
What is the Revolution?–what does the Real Revolutionist really know? The Real Revolutionist has an original, genetic knowledge—not secondhand—of the reality/truth of the Revolution but it takes a kind of triggering/activation to fruition by the equivalent of genetic kin (such as J.).
The Real Revolutionist knows that what everybody else believes-knows is incorrect and that the opposite, too, is incorrect. This instantly narrows the potential kin group astronomically. The Real Revolutionist would thus be indifferent to what everybody fears in the City. He would forget what others seriously remember, and remember what others never notice.
The Real Revolutionist might get sick, but doesn’t suffer. May get cheated–but not taken/used. May (will!) be temporarily dominated, but not beaten. He may be tired but not disgusted. Anxious but not desperate. The Real Revolutionist just forgets what is useless/unprofitable for him; does not argue with the weather.
Paradigm presents 0:58. Michael H., John M, Maureen, Calvin.
And Kyroot Said…
Withdrawal of consciousness is no cure for anything.
If someone in the City offers you some good advice, ignore
If, whenever you’re reminded of the fact that “the world’s
big enough for everybody,” you are not almost floored by its
buoyant veracity and vitality, you’re not much of a
If you just must talk, do this: Be particularly careful of
the order in which you line up your words.
An R.S.U. — A Real Soon Update: Although I noted that
“Withdrawal of consciousness is no cure for anything,” it is true,
except, of course, for consciousness.
Talk about your wasted efforts, in this case, even by City
standards. It’s like this, there was a guy who spent years
asking people if they “knew what they were doing,” and then
realized it doesn’t make the slightest bit of difference. I
guess the least we could do in recognition of this somewhat
inverted achievement is propose a Law drawn therefrom, and it
goes like this: It doesn’t matter whether you know what you’re
doing or not. So there.
When you hear it said of an ordinary person that they had
“certain personal experiences, the scars of which they still
carry,” you can fairly assume that that’s about all they DO
Heard of a man who was such a disciplinarian that whenever
his son was naughty he forbade him to dream that night.
In the City, knowledge can apparently be vain about what it
knows, so out in the Bushes I try and speak of perception, and
awareness to infer a counterpoint to City knowledge, one which
harbors no unseemly pride in mere possession.
If you must describe a person by what they wear or how they
look, you don’t really KNOW the person all that well, do you?
A City feller noted, “Don’t know why war has such a bad and
bloody rep; peace kills LOTS more.”
There must be continual — even insignificant — efforts
Although certainly not seen as such, the City’s ideas of
Man’s “freedom” is a form of supreme sarcasm.
Overheard in a nearby City neighborhood, “I act with the
blessed assurance of a sleepwalker.”
Beware, the condensed versions of the mind.
How can a City-ite know they’re finally “up to speed”? When
they begin to fault the present, fear the future, and adore the
Heard one pointy nosed City dude claim that life had
“trashed his mind,” but I don’t really think his little room was
ever all that neat to begin with. (Don’t keep calling room
service if they’re gonna keep sending up that chemical engineer
that’s deaf and dumb. I can get overheated and blow up all by
Without real, sincere flattery, the verbal hierarchy of the
City would be in peril.
A certain City General, in addressing a crowd, once stated,
“A State should have no habitual hatred, or habitual fondness for
any other State, for such animosity, or affection can lead one to
act against one’s own best political interests,” and a chap
standing over by a fig newton tree thought to his ole self, “Hey,
he should’a been one of them mind doctors,” and the General
thought, “No, the battlefields would be much too small.”
When animal elections end, tyranny begins. Oh, I’m sorry
that should be, “ANNUAL elections”… no, I was right the first
If you can’t laugh without feeling superior, you can’t laugh
If you begin to feel that even just everyday life is lacking
a paradigm, you may be onto something.
The past is a horrible place to be.
If mere “happiness” is the aim then where is the weapon, and
who has the ammo?
If you entertain any dreams regarding what the future may
say about you, you might as well go on back to the City, they’re
probably ready to name a street or sewer after you.
From a certain quirky, non-geometric view, the history of a
thing IS the thing.
It is only the dead what don’t complain, (but just that
possibility makes me sweat butterbeans).
There was this City person who evidently believed he had the
final answer to the quandary of mortality. He simply proposed
that only those actions be labelled “immoral” which were
A Revolutionist has no REAL courage until he can freely kick
Over near the southwest Sector of the City, I heard an ole
sorehead’s grandfather say, “Seems like I came and went before I
really had time to look around good.”
Then there was this guy who had a single guiding motto in
life; one thing he would always say, “Yeah, yeah, gimmie the
Describing the Revolutionist
Copyright (c) Jan M. Cox, 1988
Document: 359, June 27, 1988
Exactly what is the Revolution — as I’m calling it this year? And what would be a fair verbal description of the day by day existence of a Revolutionist? Between the times it sounds too strange, and not strange enough, what might it be up to?
How about this, to get down to a good foundation to start with: a Revolutionist knows. And it is not run of the mill experiential knowing. It is a genetic lesson. Some people are born with funny-looking noses; some with artistic talent or whatever, and some people are born almost knowing This. All it takes is a kind of trigger. All it takes is for them to find a distant relative they never knew they had. It’s as though they finally show up for a family reunion: they recognize a lot of people — a Christian idea, metaphysical Islamic system, drugs and drink — all the things with which you would be already genetically familiar. And then you look around and you see somebody like me. And this is not a relative. It’s as though you think at first it’s someone who came to clean out the septic tank or deliver some food. But then you look again and it’s like this: there’s something familiar and you don’t know what. You don’t really know, but it strikes you that this son of a gun is kin. Nobody seems to be talking to him, but there is no doubt — he is related to you. A Revolutionist knows things, but it takes running across a surprising relative.
Remember what I just said about “knows”: it’s not book knowing, and it is not that somebody told him or her. You know it; your genetic code knows it. One of the things a Revolutionist knows is that what everybody believes to be correct is not and/but, he knows that the opposite is not true either. That cuts down on the possibility of a family reunion almost anywhere on this planet at any given time. Life is arranged in such a way that if someone in the City stands up and espouses X belief, there is already somebody else in the wings who will say, “You could not be more wrong if you tried.” There is always an equal weight of people to deny the validity of X, Y, or Z belief. The Revolutionist knows that while X is not correct, neither is its opposite. You have then cut down your immediate family to a handful of people. It is a genetic tributary — a genetic short hair in Life’s nose — that produces those few able to see that all of the “This and thats” are not correct.
The rest of them cannot even hear that this is going anywhere. They are not even sure that there is a vessel. Does anybody see the difficulty? If you are asked, “Is it here? I don’t see it…,” it’s almost a certainty that the person asking is not really that closely related to you. Because even if the vessel is not here, the opposite is not true either. What you have is a relative who says, “Are we having fresh vegetables .paafter the reunion, or not?” It doesn’t matter anymore. They aren’t eating. They are not gourmets.
Something else about the Revolutionist: he or she would be indifferent to almost everything that other people fear. Not that the Revolutionist would step into the jaws of certain death. If it was labelled “Certain Death” and had jaws, he would probably say, “After you…not today, thanks.” The physical area is not, in our day and time, where the fears of most people reside. It is not just the fear of being mugged, or of dying from a horrible disfiguring disease (assuming you are such that they can actually tell if you’ve been disfigured, which is another story). Think about it. What do you actually fear when you are back at City level? Those fears, the Revolutionist is indifferent toward. To keep the sentence balanced, a Revolutionist might be uneasy about a kind of supreme boredom, but his response to the ordinary things which people fear is indifference without denunciation.
If you criticize others for their fear — if you find it upsetting at all — then you are afraid of it yourself. There is no room for any question as to what other people fear because you have your own similar fears. You would then be indifferent to anything other than that which might represent immediate impending physical danger — not mad at it, not resisting it. Indifferent to it.
How about some quick ones. I’ll come back and fill them in later. A Revolutionist might get sick, but he wouldn’t suffer. A Revolutionist might get cheated, but he wouldn’t get taken. A Revolutionist could be temporarily dominated, but he wouldn’t get beaten. A Revolutionist could get tired, but he wouldn’t get disgusted. He could get anxious, but he wouldn’t get desperate. And he would forget things that other people remember, but recall many other things that ordinary people never even noticed in the first place.
A Revolutionist could get sick, but he would not suffer. How would you actually know when a pulled leg muscle was too sore to go out and run? The way a Revolutionist would tell is that his brain muscle would be almost as sore over the simple fact that he pulled his leg muscle. It is getting in to some of the controlled aggression that I spoke about once (even though it’s foreign to the human tongue). It’s like being mad that your ankle got turned. Notice the way I put it: “Your ankle got turned.” Who are you going to blame? If the part of you that is perceptive to sore muscles is almost as sore over the fact that this has been done, you can probably take the morning off and not run. Because it is quite likely that you may, in such a whirlwind of peak controlled-aggression, trip and turn your other ankle. And then you’d really, REALLY be mad.
The Revolutionist could get cheated but not used. If you are going to play in life, you are going to get cheated now and then. It could be simply somebody inadvertently shortchanging you at a store, or as big as getting hoodwinked in a business deal. The thing is, you cannot go through life feeling as though you got taken. The difference between being cheated and being used is this: to be used you have to remember it. “Well, it was .palate ’79, but it’s just like yesterday. That guy cheated me.” You’ve been used — and not by the guy that cheated you.
A Revolutionist could be temporarily dominated but not beaten. “Temporarily” — that’s hilarious. I love the way I can destroy even the King’s English sometimes. As though you had any choice. If you’re alive you get temporarily dominated. You’re dominated for many years by your mother and father. You are dominated when you fill out your income tax. You’re dominated when a cop looks at you and you’re about to jaywalk. In life, temporary domination is like the two-step. The average person is first dominated, then they’re not, then they are again. So, you can be dominated, but to get beaten by it is another matter.
There are several ways I can describe “getting beaten.” To begin with, you are beaten if you struggle with the dance. All but the most naive believe that in the midst of a dance it is easy to reverse it. It’s not impossible. I have already shown you how to reverse the energy flow between you and another person. But once the dance is going, it is useless to say, “You can’t do this to me!” Oh yes, they can. You’re beaten. As long as you believe they can’t “Do this to you,” you are — to use my dance metaphor — a six-foot-three, 200 pound man dressed up in a drag, dancing backwards as fast as you can. And in a little whiny voice you’re saying, “You can’t do this to me!” You can say that the rest of your life. You are beaten if you wrestle with passing domination of any kind — because you believe that there is an opposite step which would be freedom.
The ordinary City concept of human freedom is perhaps Life’s supreme piece of sarcasm. I hate to say that about Life, but there is no other word. It’s not ordinary sarcasm, and it’s not really good natured humor: it goes into a little secret hole that I can’t describe to you people. As long as there has been Yellow Circuit history, the great debate has raged about “human freedom.” Not about the question, “Is there such,” no — the debate concerns “how much we have,” “how can we get more,” and “how might we lose it.” It’s a supreme piece of sarcasm. There is no freedom if you are wrestling with domination and believing the dance has a flip side, an opposite. The Revolutionist knows that nothing has an opposite: the opposite is not correct.
Remember how I opened up this little gig? The Revolutionist knows that what everybody else believes is wrong, and/but he knows that the opposite is likewise incorrect. So if someone says that it is not good to be dominated by an unkind person or institution, if you agree then you are saying that the opposite is correct. And it’s not. At that point you are not only dominated, you are being dragged around the dance floor and used to mop it as well. It is no use to search for the “reason” you are being dominated: you are alive and off the couch, that’s all. A Revolutionist knows that 50% of the people in the City are being dominated 50% of the time. It has to be that way. In truth there is no judgement involved in my terms “the dominant/submissive dynamic.” I was fully aware of the connotations such a description would bring about, and I could have called it something else — the purple/green dynamic, the up/down dynamic. But there is no “right” or “wrong” in it. It is getting close to real gunfire. A good 90% of that which appears inexplicable in human relationships is due to the operations of the dominant and submissive positions — everything from love to hate, every relationship, even quite passing events.
Take asking a stranger for directions: “Do you know how to get to Broad Street from here?” “It’s two blocks that way. You can’t miss it.” “Thanks.” You only had a second to dance, but you were prepared to submit. And the guy who directed you jumped right in. He grabbed you, be you male or female, and told you how to get there. And you were delighted. You didn’t feel like a fruitcake because someone danced you backwards. Beyond that, the submissive/dominant dynamic extends into all relationships between people: families, business, religion, entertainment. When you go to be entertained, you pay money to be dominated — and if you’re not dominated properly (that is, to suit you) you leave complaining. Of course, it’s explained in other ways: it was an off-night for the performer, she was an amateur, etcetera. In love relationships the male has been traditionally the dominant and the female passive, although there is a gradual change taking place in that particular case. And it’s true for every friendship, one of the parties is the dominant party. It is always well-established, and blaring as hell once you can see it.
If you take your car to an auto mechanic, you have got to submit. It is not evil; it is not good or bad. But if you become entangled with passing domination you are beaten. Everybody in the City does get entangled. It is part of the dynamic ordinary people are not able to find out that their hobby in life — whatever it is — also encompasses their complaint. You can tell someone, “You are the greatest living example of a submissive person I know,” and they will deny it. “Oh, no. No, no, no…geez I hate that. I try not to be. I hate being submissive.” That is part of it. If they are accident-prone and you tell them so, they’ll admit maybe to being “clumsy” but will deny being accident-prone. “No, I’m not.” The denial is nothing. It is sound waves. That person’s energy responsibility, in part, is not only to hurt themselves but to deny it as well. It is like being in the rain. A Revolutionist does not complain about it: “It rains on people to whom I am much superior. Why does it rain on me?”
A Revolutionist could get tired, but not disgusted. Being disgusted is a form of criticism. It is a form of giving up. And a Revolutionist could get anxious, but not desperate. I’m still using ordinary words, but I mean a whole lot more and a whole lot less. Because obviously “desperate” is the opposite of “Non-desperate,” right? But none of the terms I’ve mentioned — none of the apparent human emotions, nor their opposites — are correct for the Revolutionist. They are useless. They will produce no new energy; they will not get you non-tired. “Desperate” is to be fighting whatever is going on. To be desperate is to feel that these are “desperate times,” and only the Revolutionist knows that these are just “Times.” Everybody else thinks that these are episodic bits and pieces of their lives. A Revolutionist could be sincerely interested (if anxious is too strong a word) but not desperate.
You might feel that you have wasted your life up until now. So? That’s no reason to be desperate. Everybody has wasted their life up until now. No matter who they are. And when they feel it, their hormones are feeling it. What are you going to do with the truth — pat them on the head and say, “There, there…”?
I assume that none of you have tried to go off on a little spree of your own and apply any of this internally. I wanted to keep that straight. We’re not talking about that kind of stuff tonight. Right.