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Jan’s Posted Daily Fresh Real News
HIS YEAR’S CITY HARVEST SAME AS ALWAYS — APPARENTLY BOUNTIFUL –
IN THE ONLY PLACE (IT MIGHT BE NOTED) WHERE
“APPARENTLY” HAS CURRENCY
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Winnowing The Real Chaff From The Pseudo Chaff Since 1802
JANUARY 10, 2003 © 2003: JAN COX
Today’s Lead Story:
Commonly do those with an initial interest in seeing what is really going on
begin by trying to put out their own eye,
and finding that not possible, they attempt to put out the sun
that lights up the many things their eye finds confounding,
and with no success in that, most relent and return to a position of submission to
what their present eye sees whilst still regularly cursing themselves for doing so.
A sign of admirable achievement in the city is the condemnation of yourself for failing;
do you grasp the ramifications? —
that under normal conditions, mental success and failure are indistinguishable,
which is why when men present an apparently new idea
they feel the need to add a separate warranty of its validity;
making the whole shmeer read like: “In case what I have just said is vacuous,
let me immediately assure you that it is not” — and lord-lay-a-duck-down
if this doesn’t go over unchallenged amongst the sophisticated minds of the city.
Withal, out on the plains: what the realized man knows to be so, he never says is so —
saying it would be a contaminant.
One day whilst in a reflective mood the King asked the Royal Thinker:
“As regards the vital and inseparable connections between man’s body and mind:
how is it that he cannot survive without his body being fed,
yet can do so if his mind is not?”
(which, for a change, gave the titular thinker something actually to think about).
The Force Of Words (in case you’ve begun to fear for their pertinence and reputation):
There was once a creature from a purple planet who visited an orange world,
and though he physically resembled the local inhabitants, he could speak only purple, which, as it turned out, kept the orange beings from ever realizing he was even there. And a reader emails: “Am I correct in taking the other worlds and planets
in your stories as symbols for areas of man’s mind, and the creatures for thoughts?!”
A son asked his father: “Why is women’s talking less annoying than men’s?” and he replied: “They innately have a superior recognition of the true value of words.”
There was once a pair of feet who had no sense of who they were
unless they were conscious of where they were standing —
you understand that this news story is no mere metaphor in that
everyone knows that feet have no consciousness,
but a man dedicated to getting to the bottom of things
must face the fact that although its voice is in his head,
he has no idea precisely where consciousness is located.
“And praise be to Jupiter!” notes a reader, “That there is more to men than their feet!” –
which appears to have moved another follower of these reports to opine:
“Is awakening to what is going on a mental or emotional thing?”–
and a poser in response:
once you get far enough away from the city, you have no desire to return:
is this a decision of your feet, or of your thinking;
is the certain man motivated to awaken by the excitement of the concept,
or by the weariness of incessant dreaming?
But note: no matter how feet appear able to move about to different places,
in one real respect they always remain in the same place: connected to a leg;
the brain conveniently forgets about this in its routine conception of
the relationship between thoughts and the mind to which they are attached.
If ordinary thoughts did not have an impossibly exaggerated notion of their freedom they would not be able to instigate the wondrously beneficial actions men take
on behalf of themselves physically,
but it takes quite extraordinary thoughts for a man to do value to himself mentally;
the consciousness naturally covering and permeating man’s body is insufficient for
the special project of the invisible rebel;
the operating instructions that come with city life
direct only activities supportive of city affairs,
which does not include departure therefrom & objective observation thereof — after all:
a city does have its modesty (not to mention, secrets to keep).
And a reader emails: “You’re giving me a headache again!!”
Being trapped in a world of mirrors — without realizing it —
is assuredly not conducive to a pain free head.
Note: a realm consisting of naught but mirrors is made possible only by
the continuing presence and active support of meaningless mental preferences, dreams, opinions and flea farts.
A man who knows what is going on has nothing reflective to look in;
and if he tries to with his own mind, all he gets is blinded by the transparent glow.
Living in the city is being trapped between mirrors,
which makes that area of the mind incapable of ever reaching any
satisfying conclusion about anything;
the name of the game there is: ‘round and ‘round and ‘round and ‘round and ‘round.
The realization finally puts both feet of the mind
down on solid ground.
To men’s minds,
words impose a sense of order on the things they speak of that is not there otherwise;
from this attribute alone,
can you be surprised at the hold words have on men’s consciousness!
A son asked his father: “Why is women’s talking less annoying than men’s?”
and he replied: “They innately have a superior realization of the true value of words.”
“You mean they don’t take them as seriously as men do?”
“My boy, you’re becoming as sharp as a pimp in a pumpkin patch.”
One effect the notion of reincarnation has on ordinary minds is that
it distracts them from the immediacy of the inescapable.
And the King asked his Thinker:
“Why is it that if you pretend to be dumber than you really are, people will believe it, but not so if you pretend to be smarter than you are?”
(and the regal appointee began to feel the onset of a migraine).
Dumb men’s prime approach to making a name for themselves as, merchants-in-ideas is to affix themselves to criticizing the ideas of some man they privately believe
is smarter than they are —
but in the intangible realm of the city, same as in the physical reality of the farm,
even allegorical wheat won’t grow without fertilizer,
and an obviously sophisticated reader immediately responds:
“I am not at all comfortable with the comparing of the always useful and appropriate intellectual critiquing of man to the mindless spreading of manure.”
(Should we be surprised.)
Anyone can appear clever — if you don’t mind picking on people.
A father told a son:
“The problem inherent in trying to tell another how to go about
opening his mind to what is really going on is that,
something that may be quite valuable, if not requested, is hard to recognize” —
which caused the boy to shout:
“So that’s why the best stuff you’ve ever told me
came in response to some question I’d raised!” –
“Ahhh! — not bad my lad — and do you know where else this might apply?” —
and the boy confidently put a finger to his temple.
(Later that day as the old man passed the lad on the stairs, he bumped him with a hip and said:
“Son, if you get any hipper you should be mule-whipped (much worse than your standard equine thrashing).”
More About Preferences:
As long as you prefer one illness over another — you will always be ill.
The certain man has no and accepts no — diagnosis of himself,
for he alone in this universe understands that such is not possible inside this universe;
no diagnosis — no illness possible.
(In a related story: a cabal of well known city systems issued this joint announcement:
“Note: it is not our job to cure you — but to treat you.”
[what you might call a bit of unintentional, truth-in-weaseling.])
And Now: Another Version Of The Lead Story:
A man seeking to see what is really going on begins by trying to find the sun which
he believes he needs to look directly into to gain the needed, extraordinary sight,
then during what turns out to be a greater than expected period of being
engaged in this vexing matter, he decides (if we can call it that!)
to temporarily invent one for himself into which he can cast his hungry gaze;
when eventually the futility of this tactic becomes obvious (if it ever does),
he turns his efforts to trying to increase the power of his own eyes so as to at least
be able to peer deeply into the everyday Earthly matters by which he is encompassed,
and if this is fastidiously pursued, the mundane world around him begins to brighten, as though being lit up by a new sun, which in truth is — his own invigorated sight.
No thing, no book, no teaching, no person can ever inform the certain man
as can his own informing machinery once he gets up close and personal with it,
and knowingly puts his own hands on the operating levers for the first time.
Man’s world is filled with an apparent endless stream of questions and funny thing is: there is only one answer
and a lad squealed with delight: “Pa pa — is that it?”
Every King has a Royal Thinker who, when he is working well, the King believes is him, and when he is not………….well…………..
J