Jan Cox Talk 1567

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The News

1567 96033 03/18/96 Copyright J. M. Cox 1996


One mystical knight,
once he realized what the road was to the prize,
hired a servant to ride along behind him and remind him of what he already
knew, which worked as well as any other makeshift trick,
but the warrior ultimately understood that no one, save himself,
could travel with him to any advantage.

From the darkness a voice was heard, “Why is it so lonely out here?”
And the answer being, “Because you ventured out there with too many,
and with no comprehension as to who they are,
and how they might be abandoned.”

A myth, including transcendental ones,
is only good as long as there are two heads involved:
one to tell it, and one to listen to it.
The place beyond myths (that is, the source of their reality)
is a land of but one head — one brain, one mind,
one story —
and with no one to tell it
or to hear it told.

It just is — a tale that rides along only with itself.


There was once a city above which sometimes hovered an observation


Each time a man engages in routine, automatic conversation,
he reinforces to himself
the ill-founded sensation of having a permanent, mental self.

It is said that one of the greatest of the ancient mystical kings
had tattooed on his tongue that highest of heroic reminders:
“Shut The Fuck Up, Your Grace.”

It is said that one of the ablest of the great mystical warriors
progressed from being able to keep his words to himself
to being able to turn a deaf ear to what his own brain said to him.


One man came to realize that there is a conspiracy controlling the lives of
men, and that furthermore,
if one can see it clearly enough to be able to describe it,
one can be at least partially freed therefrom.

– – –

Then there was another man who held himself for ransom —
until he awoke to the fact that there was no one to come bail him out.

* * *


Although, compared to the other creatures of this planet,
it is man’s mind that allows him to “make sense” of life,
it is also his mind that tells him that
much of what he sees and experiences makes no sense whatsoever.

“Is That Neat Or What? Part 36.”


Originally, in the anatomy of man,
the brain moved about in the body same as the blood,
but due to the urgency of his evolution
it soon settled down in a permanent location, same as the liver.


One of the unknown historical lineages of human literature:
first came Science Fiction,
then Mythology,
then Religion,
then Economic Fiction (known as Economics),
then Religion again,
then Philosophic Fiction (known sometimes as “What Happened To Religion?”),
then History,
then Political Science (in some areas called “External Dreaming”),
then Psychology,
and now, finally, Gothic Romance and International Diplomacy,
with Science Fiction in the wings, awaiting a comeback.

The education of man by man
only makes sense as long as men have no idea as to what really makes sense.

…The support of the opposition points out however
that those engaged in the construction of carousels
do not have to know where-the-buck-stops,
for, if thou runneth off routine mental juice,
the buck never stops for thee,
for thou art the buck. …(This being known in certain nonstandard areas
as The Endless Economic Circulation.)


As long as your thinking focuses on specifics
based on an assumption that they are of individual significance,
you will forever see only local examples of the universal,
and never anything of actual consequence.


In the original consciousness of man,
thoughts moved about freely
with no more pattern to their actions than those of the clouds in the sky —
but due to the demands of his evolution
they soon settled down into a more predictable operation.


There was once a man who decided to undertake a wondrous journey from
where he lived to Shangri-la —
and in the beginning the trip seemed most serious indeed,
then it seemed less so…and for a while even humorous.
But then it finally became serious again
…then just a little less so
…then back to a bit more serious, then slacked off again,
then picked up again, and like that (if there is a real “like that”).

The moral is that even the most dedicated traveler doesn’t actually know
where he’s going until he gets there…or indeed doesn’t.

The above was another chapter from: “Who The Hell Laid These Tracks Anyway?”


By its native design, the mind wants to deal with the predictable.


A correspondent writes to say that he now has his own private definition of
“mysticism” relative to its more commonly recognized, crude cousins
(puts it thusly, he): “Mysticism is religion and psychology
with all the useless verbosity removed.”

…(In a post script he notes:
“Looking at what I’ve just written makes me realize that
my new addition to the discussion simply adds to the cacophony & confusion,
and that any real, meaningful attempt to describe the mystical
would consist of saying nothing.”
…[And in a P.S. to the post script further notes:
“Of course, I knew that already, also!”])


Thinking is a cloud of din, confusion, and smoke
to help lead man to a better world.

“I Don’t Get It, Part 84.”

A man asked a weighing machine,
“In the world of man, does ‘better’ equate with ‘more complex’?”
And the machine answered by handing him a card that said:
“You will meet a tall, dark woman with an outboard motor.”


The siren song of the collective-consciousness-of-man
to each individual mind is “Lean On Me.”


A man asked a mystic,
“When you’ve made a hundred unexpected observations about man, is that
And the mystic replied, “Yes.”
And the man asked,
“When you’ve made fifty unexpected observations, is that sufficient?”
And the mystic replied, “Yes.”
And the man asked,
“How about five or ten such observations, would that number be adequate?”
And the mystic replied,
And the man asked,
“Then is there a number of such observations and comments that are too
And the mystic replied,
And the man considered this for a moment, and said,
“Then am I correct in assuming that this superfluous number is determined
by the degree to which you understand the purpose of man?”
And the mystic replied,


A man asked a fortune tree,
“What’s the use in getting your body into a healthy condition
and filling your mind full of knowledge
when you know that you’re eventually just going to die?”
And the tree replied, “Count your rings.”


Tonight’s Listory Hession:

Life on this planet used to be lived by children.
…(Anything beyond the point of “used to” — believe me —
you don’t wanna know about.

– – –

In the early stages,
one man conceived of The Awakened
as being those who could bear to hear anything;
then later he began to think of them as being those who didn’t
have to hear anything.

– – –

Tonight’s Health Warning Regarding Stupidity:

To be dense is to be tense.

* * *


The reason that consciousness seems a more complex affair than, say,
breathing is because men normally sense the operations of their brain to
physically cover a larger area than those of the lungs.
It’s simple once you see it —
but hard as the dickens to get your mind to remember and think about it.

There was once a man who wondered what mortal existence would be like
if the heart, for instance, had an awareness of itself similar to that
experienced by the brain.

There was once a man who wondered, nay, even marveled at the thought of,
what man’s life might be like if he had an awareness of awareness
in addition to the brain’s awareness of itself.


How Things Could Go, Part 117: Regarding Possible Interruptions In The
Normal Line Of Mental Bequeathment

As part of their living legacy,
one electrician rewired his favorite nieces and nephews.


All visible forms of the mystical quest are its lesser — lesser — forms.


One guy thought,
“I wouldn’t mind so much being ordinary and stupid
if you didn’t have to be so serious about it.”


Of prime importance to physical existence is
consistency of physical sustenance —
and likewise does man perceive to be the situation, mentally;
only those who push their consciousness beyond the normal frontier
find the situation otherwise.


Legend has it that there was once a mystical order whose sole method
consisted of telling men to put a finger of their left hand
to any place on their head,
and then put a finger of their right on another.


There was once an unusual city which tried to keep an observation balloon


Another way to “Spot The Ordinary”:

They’re the ones who enjoy being told they don’t measure up
…the enjoyment (in fact) helping make their position tolerable.
Mystics (on the other arm) not only don’t like being told that
but in fact — moreover-and-better-yet — can hardly bear being that way.

One reason that man has experienced so much more success in
treating his physical ills as opposed to his mental ones
is that his physical ones actually hurt and mean something.
…(Another reason it’s so rare to find a mystic under anyone’s professional
care — other than a mortician’s.)

Upon finally becoming cognizant of his terminal mental condition
and the useless expenses normally incurred in any attempt to prolong its
life, one man took the more efficient approach of shooting himself in his

** The Transcendental Exercise
Of Escape Velocity Suicide **


No one merits censure save those who know better.


The simple will conclude that things are more complicated than they actually
are, and the simple who’ve read a book or been out of town a couple of times
will in fact make them so.

Moral: When you see the simple comin’, don’t let ’em see you.


There was once a most unusual city which attempted to merge with
its observation balloon.


From The Mystic’s “A, B, C Primer”

Any question that has a “yes or no” answer isn’t worth fooling with.

And this reading from “The Mystical Traveler’s Advanced-Severe Handbook:

All talk is a substitute for getting there…(or at least trying to).


One guy decided to practice “truth in blues advertising”
and changed the name of his favorite song to
“Got My Mojo Workin’ But It Only Works On Sex.”


A “more conscious man” could also be described as a person with no
permanent mental address.


Tonight’s Transcendental Tairy Fale:

There was once a father who knew The Secret,
and in an attempt to at least hint to his son the nature thereof
he told him this story,
“There was once a man who was forced to put on a set of long johns,
which he eventually came to dislike,
and then through some extraordinary (though unnecessary) effort
he took them off, and…there he was!”

The End