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Jan’s Posted Daily Fresh Real News
THE BOUNDLESS LIMITS OF IMAGINATION FINALLY IMAGINARILY BOUND
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June 21, 2002 © 2002: JAN COX
You either do what you have to do and pretend that it is what you decided to do,
or you try to GetAtTheThing.
You have to listen to your stomach; you have to listen to your thoughts;
you really have to listen to your stomach,
but you can stop pretending that you listen to your thoughts because you want to.
Your physical temperament cannot be denied,
but your thoughts do not have to be embraced;
family IS family, but uninvited guests are never more than just that.
How can you be what you are not, and how can you fail to recognize that;
how can you not be what you are,
and how can you not realize when you are being conned into thinking otherwise?
How can a rock change its molecular structure,
and how cannot smoke appear able to;
how can smoke appear able to, and your thoughts not recognize kin?
A porcupine in the morning is a porcupine all day,
and story tellers carry — by their stories — themselves far away.
How far from home do you have to be before you realize you live in a mobile home;
digestion has no travel agent, and mind’s is as vaporous as the journeys it takes.
There is a disease that afflicts but a few, its name: I didn’t know I had it ‘til you told me.
Question: how can something be as important to the few as ChasingTheThing is,
and yet, unlike eating — someone has to tell you about it?
How can Saint Quantum’s Day be such a significant occasion
if you never heard of Saint Quantum until you heard of his day?
When the bowels speak — you listen;
when thoughts speak — who do they have for an audience save themselves?
When a naturalist studies the world — he studies the world;
when thoughts study things,
they say they are studying whatever it is that they say they are studying;
the naturalist can point to the particular tree he is studying;
thoughts can point only to themselves,
and can only say that they are pointing elsewhere.
The scientist has a microscope through which to examine things,
men have but themselves, and the selves they feel within them doing their examining are their microscopes — and they are forbidden by law to say so.
There is a rumbling down below, and one above;
from the penthouse you can see the sidewalk;
on the sidewalk there is nothing to look at;
in the penthouse you are penthouse blind,
but the architectural design is such that it is hardly noticeable.
Everybody begins with a bus ticket in their pocket and a desire to ride;
no one knows where; everyone imagines;
muscles say they are fine where they are;
neurons have no idea where they are — thus do they be the would-be travelers.
Question: do only the ignorant go to school? — if so,
then those who do not must already know.
Muscles do not go to school.
How can a creature know more than it knows? –
it must if it is able to think it is ignorant.
How is it possible to be smart enough to say that you know you are ignorant
without already being smarter than you are capable of seeing you are?
Rocks are totally without ignorance since rocks know completely what they are doing;
thoughts say rocks are not doing anything — until a man looks at them
through a microscope and realizes that at some level, everything is in action;
thoughts, as they hold momentarily steady to look at things through the microscope of themselves, see not themselves always, at some level, in action.
Question: how can you become unignorant and know about a thing
if it keeps moving? — “But it does not” say thoughts, as they dance the heebie jeebie.
The stomach can keep an eye on itself; the I cannot;
when born, men see with their feet; when dying, they follow their feet;
between the two events, man looks at everything through thoughts,
and thoughts look at everything through thoughts,
but no one is in there with them to point out to them what they are doing.
Men worry over leaving foxes to guard a hen house,
while not seeing that without the foxes there is no hen house.
Who is inside the hen house?
Whoever the foxes say is there whenever they look in.
When do they look in?
Whenever they want the hen house to exist.
Men in Milan with the bus ticket in their pocket can go anywhere they like;
all they need do is say they want to be in Madrid and they are there.
Once there, Madrid does not feel right;
does it have something to do with the ticket;
was the wrong destination chosen;
thoughts believing in the maps they have drawn are in for a life time of
displacement and adulthood.
Children also like to go places, but they do not yet call flying carpets, Cairo.
“The ground sometimes, seems to be shaking under my feet.”
“What are you standing on?”
“What kind of question is that?!”
Some take SeekingToGetToThatPlace to be a cure for their illness
(plumbing problems in the penthouse);
how can a new map cure an ill caused by cartographical dependence;
what poison can prescribe its own antidote;
what snake carries a venom extractor,
and who can ever be cured who is ill only because they say they are
and there is no one in the penthouse with them to say otherwise?
Why live alone?
Why live in bunches?
Why think about your feet when they never think about your thoughts?
If you are lost, should you not ask someone to help you find your way?
Who teaches robins to sing and eagles to fly:
“Not a fair comparison” say thoughts;
who taught thoughts what, “comparison” means?…..
…..come on, we don’t have all day — who?……………..
……………….that’s right! — they did —
“Sayyyyyyyy — who’s running this classroom anyway?!”
There are as many solicitous voices in the wilderness as there are wildernesses;
everyman’s thought container is a wilderness,
thus do all wildernesses take with them everywhere they go — a wilderness.
No need to ask: “How do I get out of here?” the asking IS the, “here”;
can “e” escape the word, “escape”
and what is it that you are looking at when you say you examine your life?
your feet? your stomach? your family? your job?
Men generally are intended to be satisfied hanging around the bus station,
discussing travel and this-&-that;
what is the problem with this if you are not going anywhere anyway? — none,
obviously,
but not so obvious is the chance a few people have of one day
looking up from their penthouse staring and seeing the bus station for what it is –
no, you do not see the bus station;
when you manage this kind of LookingUp what you see is seeing for what it is.
“Teacher, will you please just give me the answer to my question?”
How is it that there is a certain question that afflicts but a few,
and is the most important thing in their life, and yet —
they did not know what it was until someone told them.
If no one can tell you TheAnswer (which no one can)
then how can anyone tell you even TheQuestion?
Stomachs always know what the problem is with them (if there is a problem):
thoughts always know what the problem is with them (just as soon as they invent it).
There is a specialized engine that only runs with rocks in it;
rocks are everywhere — always on the move;
rolling and tumbling — polishing wherever they touch.
The sheen on thoughts is from their own reflection;
intestines do not need to look in a mirror — they know how ugly they are;
when it comes to aesthetics — who has the better taste;
who would you trust to drive to keep you as far from the cemetery as possible? —
your feet or your thoughts? — wrong question:
who DO you trust? —
and who do you privately call, Daddy who assists you in your search
only by his saying that he does — if you ask him.
“Teacher! — this room is making me dizzy” —
is such a child even intelligent enough to be told the obvious;
“Doctor: it bothers me when I do this”
“Well don’t do that”
“Heyyyyy — who said that?” — who indeed.
Someone keeps calling you on the phone — mostly, harassing calls;
“Hold up,” says the phone company,
“I am not sure that you can talk about me like that” —
“Teacher — I’m still dizzy.”
How long you figure can a reasonable man ride a merry go round
before he realizes that it takes him nowhere?………okay, how about for six billion men.
How can it be that a few do sense the lumbregoto of this circular activity,
yet attempt to cure it while still pacing up and down on the carrousel.
“Perhaps I would be done with it and just shoot myself in the head — if I could find it” –
now there is a man with potential.
What kind of haunted house is it anyway that you live in
wherein every time you confront a ghost he vanishes, and you become him,
with your mind made clouded as to what just happened.
Who can you trust? — a smart man, certainly not the thing that just asked that question.
No one but a con man tells you how honest he is;
thoughts do so every time you naively take them to be your thoughts.
“Teacher! — Johnny stole my book!” —
“No, no — he slipped you one while you were not looking.
“Now let’s all turn to page twenty three” —
“But Teacher — I AM page twenty-three” —
“Very good, young man: an A + for you.”
Question: Why is it so noisy in most classrooms?
‘Cause no one knows what they are talking about.
Question: How do you know you are on the right track?
You discover you have a taste for tracks, and recognize ’em when you eat ’em.
A man who ChasesTheThingToTheEndOfTheLine
does not come out a new and improved person;
he comes out the leftovers from a cannibalistic feast for one.
Too fat eyes/I’s — that’s the problem — too fat to see that the microscope they clutch
is just another form of choke the chicken.
J