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1544 96010 01/24/96 Copyright J. M. Cox 1996
On one planet was once a race of creatures who ran —
they were eventually replaced by a race which sat and thought —
they in turn sat around for thousands of years
waiting for something within them to arise
to replace themselves.
To help ease-e-e local conditions,
life gave men watches
so they could “watch the time,”
and not be so much concerned over all that “other stuff.”
“Wheee! — look at me, Daddy! — I’m staring and in a stupor!”
“Why, that’s great, Son — simply great!”
The mythical warrior typically spends part of a lifetime
struggling against confining, external forces
to eventually see that the real restrictions are within himself —
then comes more time spent trying to attend to his internal captivity,
which, if things go well,
ultimately results in him developing a whole new understanding of
just what freedom consists of.
Simple men are simply confined,
though they perceive the causes of their confinement to be extremely complex
— to get past this, open your eyes — just look around you at the obvious.
A man once said to a mystic,
“It seems to me that there should be two general forms of mystical teaching:
one form that talks to you about whatever it is that it wants to talk about,
and another form that will talk to you about whatever it is that
you want to talk about.”
To which the mystic responded,
“The second variety you must produce for yourself —
but you’ll find that, even with just yourself involved,
it’s not as easy to accomplish as you’d expect.”
In later days, as the man studied and struggled with what the mystic had
said, he experienced bouts of surprising amazement and excitement over this
idea, which obviously is illogical and impossible…and yet…there it is!
Right within himself he found the reality of just how difficult it is to
think about anything other than what your thinking already wants to think
Repetitiveness is part of life’s normal safety procedures,
but, within a hungry man’s consciousness, it serves no such purpose.
Which will happen first: talk will exhaust reality,
or talk exhaust itself?
Which will occur first: thinking will explain everything,
or thinking explain itself?
One man (with important matters on his mind)
would only write about them as long as he had paper.
In man’s ordinary state of consciousness,
you’ll continually stare out the window,
and never become aware of the room you’re in.
…(This bit of information could have been titled:
The Foyer To The Secret.)
…And a viewer writes:
“But you once noted that
‘what good does it do to know yourself
if you end up knowing the wrong self?’
See, all of us out here don’t forget everything we hear!
…(Plus, what’d you mean by that?)”
Man is the only creature held captive by chains unseen —
which makes escaping them impossible.
There was once a man beset by a trio of demons:
the body demon, the mind demon, and the emotions demon.
And he finally prayed to god to be released from the grip of
at least one of them,
and god listened, then asked him which one he’d choose.
A man once asked a mystic,
“Is this whole business of trying to become enlightened
more serious than it appears,
or less so?”
And the mystic asked him which one he’d choose.
Those of routinely shaped intellectual processes
continue to ponder the questions inherent in the matter of cause & effect,
yet to realize that all thinking
(and certainly not excluding that herein under discussion)…
that all thinking itself is an effect,
the cause of which none seem interested to investigate.
Trains have windows so that you’ll look out them
…okay, stare out them,
and thus reduce the possibility of you taking notice of your position
…Life’s mental circumstances have named this particular song:
“Come Go Through This World With Me.”
…(As if men normally have a choice!)
Without thought, you can’t be afraid,
but with it you can talk and thus mitigate the fear.
…And high up in the nervous system a voice says, “I don’t get it.”
And, further down, one that can’t speak does.
A man asked a mystic,
“Do you keep talking about the whole mystical thing in pretty ordinary
terms just so’s you won’t start describing it in the really weird way it
…And studying his skull
which he held in his hand,
the mystic said, “Ahhh — I once knew me well.”
Education vs. The Knowledge
It’s not stupidity that gets you — but the stupor.
Everyone’s brain is a spigot.
The speaker addressed the crowd,
“Tell me what you worry about and I’ll tell you how conscious you are.”
And a voice shot back,
“But if a man was just conscious enough to actually be considered conscious,
wouldn’t he not be worried about anything anyway?”
And the speaker replied, “Ah! — you caught me.”
And the crowd broke up and lay in the grass.
The difference between a real mystic and wanna-be’s is that the
wanna-be’s are always looking for a real mystic.
This is why, past a certain point in his understanding,
a mystic has nothing else to read, nor anyone else to listen to.
“It’s all there,” announced the conductor.
“What’s all there? And where is ‘there’?” asked many passengers.
“Why, Istanbul,” he replied, “it’s right there — in each of you —
though the way there, and the duration of the journey,
may not be what you’d expected —
but so what —
isn’t it good to know that it still exists,
and is much closer than you ever imagined?”
Those most simple feel as though they live primarily in their body,
while those more sophisticated think they reside mostly in their mind,
and they both would have to acknowledge that a continuing part of their
life is spent in their emotions,
but neither of them see anything in their situation of any particular
…And as long as your brain is just a normal, mortal outlet for life’s
energy, you’ll never see anything of any specific significance.
…And a more enlightened version of the philosopher said,
“My thinking thinks for me, therefore I remain in this partial stupor.”
Conditions on one world told the wild birds,
“You have your choice as you fly above:
to be presently shot down,
or postpone it by believing that you have a choice.”
…”Daddy, Daddy!” squealed a lad back on Earth,
“I want to be a mallard when I grow up!”
“Shush,” replied Papa, “no need for such a wish.”
A warrior who is not also a poet
is not a fully realized warrior.
Discovery and destruction alike
must the hero be able to privately describe to himself when called for.
But note: This poetry would differ radically from the routine
in that it would be totally nonsubjective and self-referable,
while entirely cold-blooded and to-the-point.
Even a consciously conceived and reticent recluse
may still talk to himself
when the moon is full,
and he near empty.
To the more awakened mind,
it is not the fault of the words spoken,
but of the generally ignobling passions that motivate men to speak them.
A man full of himself
will ne’er a hero be.
What ordinary men refer to as their “thinking”
turns out to be no more than a passive staring at the flow out of the
By talk alone do the ordinary feel less stupid.
Hint: To even get close to The Secret,
you must first wear yourself ab-so-lutely OUT!
Anything said about man,
spoken under normal gravitational conditions,
will come out sounding like criticism of man.
One guy rang up life and said,
“Disconnect my cable service, if you please.”
And life just chuckled, “‘If you please’!”
The Secret Life Of Talk: The ordinary think there’s more to it
than there is.
Unrecognized by all but a few,
there is a stupefying energy that clouds men’s minds —
it’s known as thought — ordinary, everyday thought.
When you’ve been swallowed by a beast with a scarlet stomach lining,
it’s difficult to ever make objective observations regarding the color red.
The simple minded, that is, including the ordinarily educated of the world,
continue to wonder which has the greatest effect on what they are:
their inherited traits, or their environment.
As though they can somehow be distinct from the environment.
The difference between the more conscious and routinely so is that,
even though they are both at home,
the routinely conscious never come to realize it.
The sound of passion in an ordinary man’s speech
is like a dash of salt added to an otherwise unappetizing dish of cardboard.
One chap wrote a song he entitled “My Thinking Is A Prison” —
but it depressed him so much that he tore it up!
…(And would only perform it on special occasions.)
The confused — that is, ordinary people —
believe man can change the conditions of life,
failing to notice that they are already products of life’s conditions.
But it’s just as well,
for, if an ordinary man did suddenly understand this,
it’d blow his eyeballs outta their sockets.
Men initially ride off on the adventure of life being
knights with either hemorrhoids, delusions, or depression.
‘Tis not the journey that’s tiring,
nor even the load you bear,
but rather something else entirely —
yet right before your eyes.
The 3 Stages In The Life Of Those Who Know The Secret:
In the first stage they try and tell about it using twenty-six words.
In the second stage they attempt it using only five.
And in the final stage — you guessed it — they quit trying.
…(There is [I might add] a fourth stage,
but what the hell can I now possibly say about it?)
A man asked a mystic,
“What’s the purpose in a mystic saying what a mystic would do
in this-or-that situation,
regarding this-or-that matter?”
And the mystic replied,
“None that I’m aware of, of any importance.”
If men experienced even brief interludes of being more conscious than
they ordinarily are,
it would cause their normal state to feel intolerable.
…(See why staring is such a basic requirement?)
Talk may be the consummate stalling tactic —
the supreme stiff-arm,
man’s ultimate whistling-in-the-dark.
A man asked himself,
“No one takes responsibility for their inherited physical make-up,
so why do they, regarding what they think and their emotional life?”
…”Hey, where you going?”
“I ain’t stickin’ around for an answer.”
Today’s jackpot question is:
If the more conscious get sick and die like everyone else,
then do they have more or less a right to complain than everyone else?
The difference between a real warrior and the weekend variety is that,
while the weekenders may become able to refrain from saying “damn”
when they stub their toe, the real warrior is able to not think it.
To begrudge ordinary men their talk is to disfavor their breathing.
Everyone starts off thinking with their feet —
then it moves up to their head —
and, with most, that’s where it seems to end.
“Yes, sports fans, that last play was ‘third and three’ —
and they’re attempting to bring out the chain stretcher.”
…And a chef up in the stands then wondered to himself
if that was anything like a reality-helper.
A certain man once built a ventriloquist’s dummy,
but its mimicking of speech was always dependent on how he felt.
A father so advised a son:
“Once you hear ordinary talk for what it is, and realize what it represents,
the sheer grossness and stupefying weight of its negativity
will tend to turn its very sounds detestable and unbearable to your ears.
Only physicians who cause their own ills can rightfully undertake to
all of which demands a new level of understanding regarding the problems
which seem to afflict man.
A man asked a mystic,
“If, as you say,
at all times is well over ninety-nine and a half percent of all men without
any interest in this so-called ‘expansion of consciousness,’
that leaving but a scant few who are,
then how can you be truly certain that the vast majority of quite normal,
sane men are not the ones with the correct attitude,
and the mystical few who are misguided?”
…(And I’ll give everyone time to leave,
assuming that few care to stick around for any comment I may have on the
As children, men start out speaking literally,
then, as they mentally mature,
they unknowingly switch to a metaphorical mode —
and only the more conscious ever become aware of this…
and do something about it.
And a man wrote to The Answer Doctor and asked:
“Just what the hell does talk have to do with emotions, anyway?”
Says one guy,
“For men to call the perfunctory operations of a physical organ (the brain)
by a metaphysical name (the mind)
strikes me as both a stretch, and a crude attempt at self-aggrandizement.”
In the prison of routine existence,
talk provides ordinary men with some feeling of freedom.
According to legend, there was once an extreme mystical order which said
that no one is truly a mystic who is not constantly as conscious, alert,
and aware as they know from experience that they can be.
…(It is said there were few present who moaned the passing of this
A mystical warrior can only be slain during life while he’s looking away…
That certain king so said to another of his sons,
“If you do not have a noble dog after whom to pattern yourself,
use as your hero, then, Life itself —
but if you so do, after you have once begun,
then from Life never look away.”