Talking About “You” Takes up Mental Room for More Real You
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Notes by TK
There is something inherently wrong, for the Few, in talking about yourself. Such talk merely reinforces the ordinary condition to be escaped; or: talking about ‘you’ takes up the mental room available to be ‘you’. Note that, save for physical prowess and feats of memory/calculation, men cannot verify or demonstrate (by objective measurement) their reputation and achievements (i.e., the subject matter in their talk about themselves). Assumed or imputed character and understanding cannot be substantiated. (42:30) #3078
Jan’s Daily Fresh Real News (to accompany this talk)
BEING BLIND IN THE CITY
PROVES NOT TO BE A PITY
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For Those Whose Insist On Actual Sight
December 5, 2003 © 2003: JAN COX
Noted a father to a son:
“You err to say that another man’s thinking about non material matters is wrong,
for if he thinks it is right — it is right;
it may be ridiculous and impossible, but he may be from a past era,
and it seem correct to him;
let it go at that.
The world is not only spatially big enough for everyone’s ideas,
but sufficiently large also to accommodate those from all intellectual times.
Dinosaurs, Huns and witch hunts are still with us my boy,
just check with the natural born part of your own mind.”
What gives man’s cultural reality its reality is:
all the imagining of what it is,
combined with all the complaints about what it is not.
The substance of this intangible reality is that of the air inside a balloon keeping it up.
Posture to an athlete is everything — until he is dying —
then dying is.
“Keep it up! — that’s my motto!”
“Keep what up?”
What mechanism is at work in man that allows him to say with confidence
that he knows himself well while he repeats behavior which he has every reason
to know he will afterwards regret? How can he know such — yet continue doing it?
(“I’m sorry: I don’t have a motto for that one.”)
Those who talk about their race, religion or culture do not have a realized man’s core.
One man says he suspects that being dead is like being in a dream that never ends
(but adds this now makes him unsure if being alive is as distinct a state
as he’d always assumed).
The name of one world’s vade mecum is: How Can You Tell?
(a tome they apply to all situations).
If part time help keeps hanging around,
they’ll find more to do.
(For the few that should be titled: Employee Warning.)
“Drive the scalawags out!”
“What if they won’t go out?”
“Ignore ‘em into atrophy.”
Until no one else’s ideas compare at all in attractiveness to yours,
you have not discovered the full use of the mind.
Frequently would one man look at his reflection in a mirror and say:
“Don’t get too frisky, young pup, remember: life’s got another one just like us.”
The mythology of one world says that the transcendental experience of waking up
to what’s going on is not something that one does, but that one realizes;
that the mystical quest is not someplace that a man goes,
but begins to recognize as his everyday surroundings.
Motto: If you ain’t got it — you ain’t gettin’ it.
The realized man has no interest in what other people think
(unless it is about his malfunctioning car or liver).
The Chemistry lore of one people says that their god created god coincidentally
at the same moment their brains created mind.
(Their motto used to be: “It’s A Small World” — then something happened!
“O — I know what it was! — I know!”)
“Physical reality IS a small world, in that
what constituted iron yesterday, still does today;
about all matters in man’s intangible mental world, no such can be said, but no matter: no one notices.
The great airship of culture and spirituality was constructed to fly without fuel:
grasp it! — and get over it.
In one land the people can see the color red correctly, but not yellow, but it’s okay: what they see as being yellow is what yellow is (as far as anyone there can determine).
Fact: The mind of the man who understands what’s going on can’t be determined.”
“Question: Does that mean that even HE can’t determine?”
“Even if he can, the point is that he wouldn’t let himself state such a finding.”
“Man! — that’s hard to understand.”
“Yes — unless you do.”
“Why is everything worthwhile to me like that?”
“Consider: how could it not be like that and BE worthwhile?”
“That’s even weirder.”
“No it’s not.”
“You’re right, of course.”
In the certain man — the conversation never ends,
and only in him does it go anywhere.
(The secret name of the city is: Just Around The Next Bend.)
One day one guy wondered:
“Who is denser: those who criticize life,
or those who bother to say that there is nothing TO criticize.”
The only ships about which passengers are warned of their sinking
are those not sinking.
“(That reminds me): HELP! — my consciousness is submerging in my mind.”
Technocrats can stand straight when artists they absorb.
Troops of philistine armies are taught to continually look back over their shoulder — since they will not be looking ahead.
(By the by: What do you think civilians are actually referring to in the term:
“I believe you have made a spelling error.”
Warriors don’t HAVE to spell.
One man’s latest development: A corrugated brain roof.
(“More efficient shedding of overflows,” says he.)
“Pa pa: why do dogs sleep so much?”
“Their consciousness does only canine work — and no more,”
and the boy went away wondering whether within the idea of consciousness taking care of only certain business and nothing more might lie the key to the quest.
And one man says: “My motto is: You never know ‘til you try —
and have the ability to realize futile effort when you meet it.”
“And I’m guessing the last part to be the important.”
Confidential Inner-Office Memo At One City Firm.
“Security guards should not be allowed to talk to one another, or themselves.”
A man stepped onto the pedestrian island amidst busy traffic,
raised his arms for attention and declared:
“A man’s sense of an inner self is to him as a goose is to its honk,”
and from a stopped car someone shouted: “Don’t you have that backwards?”
and the man began flapping his arms and flew away — ass first.
An allegory that can’t be pictured should’ve stayed home with its mama.