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Jan’s Posted Daily Fresh Real News
A FEW STILL SUSPECT THAT THE DNA CODE OF MENTAL LIFE HAS BEEN FOUND
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A Secret’s A Secret’s A Secret — Maybe.
October 17, 2003 © 2003: JAN COX
To believe that: “Life is out of my hands,” (even if true) is to be ordinary;
to believe that: “Life is out of my hands,” (even if true) is to be religious;
to believe that: “Life is out of my hands,” (even if true) is to be forever on edge;
to believe that: “Life is out of my hands,” (even if true) is to live in a self consuming, incendiary daze that distracts the mind and blinds the eye/I so that you are always looking over-to-the-right, or over-to-the-left, but never head-on at life as it really is.
For a man trying-to-get-to-the-bottom-of-things, the veracity of the idea that life-is-out-of-your-hands is irrelevant;
what is a real rebel warrior if not he who will press on with his quest regardless of
what story tellers (including his own thoughts) give as impossible conditions.
To never realize what IS possible is to be forever captive of the impossible.
A film showing suicide — run backwards —
would offer one picture of man’s routine intellectual development.
While this statement ’s verbal cleverness could overstate the situation,
it nonetheless reflects it as reasonably as words allow;
the matter can also be envisioned as a once open, quiet plains upon which
has been constructed a complex, noisy city whose every occupant has
a vague longing to know what life was like before the urban era,
though their minds do not interpret what they feel to be directly this,
but rather as a desire to: know god; to discover The Truth;
to understand the psychology of man, but they are all the same interest:
“What was my life like before I could think about my life?”
And carrying forward the allegory:
it is a creature with in-place internal circumstances who wonders what
that inner world was like before these conditions appeared,
but because of the nature of the current conditions,
such knowledge is not accessible,
or: it is a hunger that men living in the city have to know what human life would have been like on the silent, unsophisticated plains prior to the city’s existence & influence, but is knowledge that can only be processed by operations exclusive to city life;
as though their pre city life was in a dark area, and only in the city are their flashlights, except they will not work outside the city;
also exemplified in this comment: “I realize there is a certain important something
that I do not know, but my ability to conceive of this is what keeps me from it,”
this still is not a totally accurate telling of it, but for ordinary words and minds —
it’s damn close,
(in your own head, run backwards the film of how your thoughts normally operate,
and you’ll see).
There was once a an ordinary, everyday kinda guy who,
for some unaccountable reason,
suddenly became aware of what is really going on!
Well — he didn’t know whether to shit or go blind!
(So his neighbors forced him to crap his pants,
covered his eyes,
and made him mayor.)
Maternity (Sorry) Maturity Leave.
Truth be told:
being a little pregnant is easier than being a little aware of what is really going on.
Man’s standard mental operations are most decidedly binary:
a relentless win/lose game (true/false, the supreme):
this stands him well in his dealings with physical reality,
but in his commerce with his special intangible world of matters purely intellectual
(the totality of his culture), though it does him no actual harm, this programmed approach keeps him from ever comprehending the true nature of this realm:
like being in a place wherein your eyes are made so fixed on the question of whether the trains endlessly passing by are going east or west that you never look around
and take in a wider picture that would include how locomotives are manufactured,
the unseen complexity and connections of all rail systems,
and the overall purpose of such transportation networks.
The few should be assured: If you are looking in one direction —
and it does not matter what one direction —
you will never see anything
(and even if you do think you have at least seen: “a little bit” —
it will be a useless bit,
[like the information that you are a: “little pregnant,” or: a little dead]).
“I have no interest at all in being ignorant unless I can be TOTALLY ignorant!”
Nothing shows success at the warrior’s table like a clean plate.
“I have no dragons left to slay, nor imagined mental foes to masticate.”
An empty mouth is a satisfied mouth.
(The city’s Educational Council offers strong objection to this comment,
but as Galahad used to say: “Let ‘em eat armor.”)
If you are wont to verbally identify yourself with any group, be it national, religious, cultural, racial, or anything else,
then you are part of the collective even if you dress out of the ordinary,
and have the words: “I Am An Individual” tattooed on your forehead.
The certain man’s mind is not able to both say what the man is,
and ever understand what he is:
such self identifying activity is necessary to hold together the useful sub herds
within the total herd of humanity,
but makes impossible an individual’s seeing what is going on.
You have a choice as it were: Either say what you are,
or discover what you are.
Show Biz News In Duplicate.
An act that feels it must explain itself to the audience is sure a suspect act.
An act that feels it must explain itself to the audience is a meaningless act;
it may be entertaining, which in fact is the only purpose of show biz acts,
but when men’s thoughts get on stage, something strange happens:
they suddenly go from being clowns & jugglers
to acting like they are lecturers & educators.
(Same Story In A Doctrinal Setting).
Those who need an apologist need a hellava lot more than an apologist.
“Take THAT! — Monsieur Mundane Mind.”
“Pa pa: is this another reason the certain man doesn’t stick up for anybody?”
“Not intangibly — and certainly not his own thoughts”