Jan Cox Talk 2878


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Jan’s Posted Daily Fresh Real News

Targeting Thalamic Traitors Since 1764
August 16, 2002 © 2002: JAN COX

Everyone believes there is a magic food —
some think it is wealth, some think it is sex, some fame, some God,
others their hobby;

the magic food in which all believe is obviously not the kind you put in your stomach — but in your mind — your soul.

No one questions the necessity of edible food,
and none either doubt man’s need for intangible nourishment,
and passing analysis is the un codified presupposition that
within the available abides one which will confer on the qualified consumer
near magical qualities;
men no do not normally speak in such specific metaphysically tinged terms,
yet an objective cursory note of what they do commonly say about these matters
undeniably reveals that to them, men clearly attribute characteristics not pedestrian;
no one expects the consumption of a steak to produce in them miraculous powers,
but men routinely say they are seriously anticipating same regarding their involvement in the several major, human-only areas of immaterial, non essential inner activities –
the thought-medium area of the normal human brain is wired & programmed
to think & say that it believes there are certain non physical activities available to man which contain within them — extraordinary, non mundane power,
and which can be obtained and used by the properly prepared and deserving person;
why else would otherwise rational seeming people spend untold hours on their
aching knees and bored rumps in churches, and universities –
or on tired feet at political rallies and philatelist run-abouts;
why would men work every waking moment of their lives to accumulate wealth
they are too busy to enjoy,
or undergo unnecessary rigors and sacrifices just to make irrelevant strangers
point at them and call their name?

Your mental eyes are not focused if you cannot readily realize that in some way
everything that men do beyond their instinctive, irrepressible efforts to stay alive,
and to make their lives as physically comfortable as possible
is a search for a special, metaphysical food —
a strictly inner-based & extant activity,
their belief cum participation in which will bring to them joys, powers and benefits which can be but labeled: magical.
Least ye at outset find this hyperbole, ponder:
everyday, ordinary men and women — your family, your friends, your community,
nation, church and leaders — all tacitly accept as inarguable fact that there are certain activities — thought-&-verbal-only activities — they can pursue which will, (or can) confer to them, qualities which clearly have no connection to the activity in question, and which nothing in all of human experience would lead a sane person to expect would follow, and moreover-at-its-zenith:
qualities which (to speak charitably) are quite improbably to ever appear in
the participant referring to them as the expected pay off for his involvement therein.

No matter whether they ever think or speak in rhetoric of, “magical”
nonetheless that is precisely what everyone looks for in the particular intangible hobby around which their inner life — their second reality — revolves,
and it is all the same, be it a man with a mind wrapped up in thoughts of a
supernatural, supreme being, or a near supernatural, extraordinary political figure, sports or movie star,
or their self directed thoughts of them being the center of attention and fascination —
— them being the star,
or the variations thereof based on other’s envy of your wealth and prestige.
To believe there is anything wrong about all of this would be as imbecilic as thinking something is amiss with men breathing,
but a man with his own outrigger’s hobby of trying to understand everyone else’s (including the one[s] of his own natural-born mind) is in the land-of-wrongness
should he fail to recognize this situation as it is, and to investigate same
as is needed for him to finally understand its basis and operational purpose.

Men born with traces of interest in this special hobby commonly themselves
fall into the predictable and initially unavoidable position of adopting an extant hobby ostensibly dedicated to the realization of the special one;
there have always been titularly several — fascinating and captivating to the few;
all saying the right things in their promos,
promising the sought-for paydays — offering: MAGIC.
There is nothing in the universe more deserving of the description than the
realization which comes to a man who sees what is going on:
it is — with no rhetorical reservations — a magical moment,
and it indeed — compared to the normal lives of ordinary humanity —
is metaphysical — in an: upside-down — turned inside-out —
twisted back on itself twice, like a too-spirited mobius strip — kind of way;
in contrast to what the thought-active part of the human brain is conventionally
constructed to conceive,
what the mind of that certain-type-of-man eventually does
is to him — only to him magical and metaphysical just in the sense that what the standard minds of all the rest of humanity are made to believe is fire is actually smoke, and what they are forced to identify as smoke is in fact fire — so:
the sole aspect of getting-to-the-bottom-of-things that is magical is in:


There is no magic food finally for the man with the RealHungerbut this:
his relentless investigatory gnawing-on the question-of:
What is the basis, the purpose, the nature of my mind having this hunger
along with the natural collateral belief that there is a magic food which will
satisfy it, and bring to me abilities which,
without such a miraculous intervention — I clearly will never experience?

The strictly private BigExposé for that strictly private CertainMan
comes not from his finding-of — his consuming-of, come education-in — a magic food,
but rather his ravishing — Ah hah! — understanding-of
the hunger that drove him looking there for.

In the unseen neural new lands outside the established mental cities of man,
satisfaction & freedom come about ultimately not from the
acquiring & consumption of a special food,
but from the cold-cocked realization that the day’s menu is exactly as posted.

Bon appetitty.


*Cut off all avenues of escape and what choice have ye but go forward.