Jan Cox Talk 2939


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JANUARY 13, 2003 © 2003: JAN COX

Your interest in awakening, enlightenment, or whatever you choose to call it,
will never get off the ground until you understand for yourself what it is actually about, beyond any descriptions you have ever heard;
accepting someone else’s explanation of it will not do,
even if you are convinced that they know;
and while it may take decades,
when the day comes that the reality of what ThisThing is suddenly hits you —
it will finally take flight, and nothing will ever be the same.

A father said to a son: “I am going to tell you something which,
if you employ reverse technology, can prove of great practical value:
a man who knows what is going on has no interest whatever in what other people say, (and thus think that they think);
he does not feel his thoughts and words to be better than those of others,
he simply knows ordinary thoughts and words for what they are.
Consider it well — then work backwards:
a man who knows what is going on
has no interest whatsoever in what other people think or say.”

A man who thinks of regrets
has something that will bar him from ever discovering what thinking can truly be.

One man suggests: “The way to be rid of a bad law is to prosecute a rich man with it,
same with proffering a dumb idea to an awakened man.”

Today’s Travel Tip:
if you don’t stay home you can’t dislike yourself.
Today’s Household Tip:
dumb ideas thrive only at home.
Today’s Psychology Tip:
do not dismiss too readily the possibility that men’s sense-of-an-inner-self, and a dumb-idea are two different things.
Today’s Second Travel Tip:
if you don’t stay home
you won’t remain as victim of dumb ideas as you were born to be.
“Get out more, my boy! — get out more!”
and the son pointed questioningly to the old part of his brain —
and the elder nodded, “Si.”
(One man fainted and imagined he had Marco Polo stuck in his teeth,
or as the FedEx school song so proudly proclaims:
“It doesn’t matter where it goes to as long as it gets there on time!”
[and the band director was suddenly ditzed: “Or is it the other way around?” —
but, as the Revitalized Metaphysical Academy’s motto declares:
“What Does It Matter Anyway.”
(you know, you just don’t get that kind of insight from routine educational outlets.)])

One man was accused of suffering from:
Carper’s Tunnel Syndrome: a malady whereby you whine your way in —
but can’t cavil your way back out.
In city minds, all complaining is ever so subtley, cul de sacky;
those riding the grouse express never realize their inevitable fate
since the dark at the end of all thought tunnels is composed of the same
neural color combinations that produce what passes for light at the entrance.
“So!” said a lad to his dad:
“That being the case, then where exactly does making justified criticism take you?”
and the old man laughed so hard at the word, justified
that he almost blew out the seat of his pants.

In one city neighborhood they still speak of (and with no small trepidation)
the extremely upsetting incident of the unusually strange man who,
after saying: “I’m saying this for the last time!” —
actually did.

“Father, I need help with a real puzzler — a true condom!”
“You mean, conundrum?”
“Something tight you pull over your head that diminishes sensation, right?!”
and they grinned as they shook congratulatory hands.
(Perhaps of passing interest is that when this lad was grown he was not infrequently accused of insincerity rivaling that of the notoriously shallow zydeco accordionist, Clifton Veneer.)

Today’s Insider’s Tip For Those With The Certain Potential:
If you are alive,
and you stop everything for a moment and think about nothing other than the fact that: you are alive —
you’ll get a bracingly weird feeling about just being alive,
(“bracingly-weird” as in: “a-door-in-my-house-was-just-flung-open-that-I-didn’t-even-know-was-there.”)

Legend says there was once a land wherein the people decided:
“Let’s all laugh at the King!……………………………………before he does so at us.”
And one mental warrior proclaimed to all his bourgeoisie neural neighbors:
“To die from ignorance is to expire gradually by inches,
but to go out at the hand of your own self-designed intelligence is to
disappear all at once — in a liberating inner explosion.”

Regardless of the cliché: it is not the good who die young in rebel territory,
but the dumb and destitute — the impervious poor —

those who have been mentally — cleaned-out!

Jackals can never be brought in and civilized in the fashion of domesticated pets,
for within jackals is,

way too much jackal.

Today’s Identification Tip:
you can’t dislike yourself if you have no name.

Today’s Everything-Rolled-Into-One Tip:
you can’t dislike yourself if you have no self — no mentally pictured self, that is.
“So what other kind is there, pa pa?”
“Why thinketh ye that there must be one?”

And the fight song heard from one rebel band goes:
“When you don’t know which way you’re going — you’ve still got a long way to go! — like in: longer-than-you-can-ever-imagine! —
like in can you spell, “never-ending?” —
but why, if you started out with the real potential,
should you allow this to happen to you —
all you have to do to break free of this hobble that initially welds everyone to their spot is to make whatever efforts are appropriate for you individually
to bring you to the plain realization that
you do not have the slightest idea of what ThisThing is actually about;

immediately after acknowledging that simple fact,
your feet are cut loose,
and you’re off and running.

Okay, a final shot: amongst all of constantly moving humanity,
how could you spot the certain man, who alone knows where he is going?
He is the only one who will not tell you where he is going,
(and P.S. him not doing that even with himself,
is in large part what makes his peculiar sojourn possible).