Jan Cox Talk 3107

Quantum Leap of Consciousness or Frankenstein’s Monster?

PREVNEXT

Stream from the bar / download from the dots

Summary = See below
Condensed News = See below
News Item Gallery = None
Transcript = None
Key Words =

Summary

2/11/04:
Notes by TK

Life is its own living entity. The dynamics of individuals participate in a larger arena for Life’s benefit. In a sense, Life has created a kind of a monster in creating man. All animals are physically limited to what’s appropriate to their purview. But man’s mental purview is virtually uncontrolled; you can think about the most horrible things possible.

The mind seems to have no restraints; you can think anything that can be thought. Man’s power resides in his mind. It is a capacity developed by Life that is unprecedented and potentially uncontrollable. With its advent, Life has greater power over the earth and therefore furthers its own survival. Consider that the quantum leap of consciousness could be Life’s Frankenstein’s Monster! (38:42) #3107

Jan’s Daily Fresh Real News (to accompany this talk)

TOXICOLOGISTS’ POISON LIST IS INCOMPLETE
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Airing The Antidote To All That Infects The Few
February 11, 2004 © 2004: JAN COX
More Stories About: One Man (Guess Who?)
_________________________________

One man, to show his body that he is in touch with what is physically going on around him (and just to annoy himself) will, sometimes when the weather is cold — get cold.
(This is the kind of corollary action that makes life put up with local conditions,
and makes the universe tolerate the little bit of life there therein is.)

One man can look at the title of any book and instantly be made to think of a new one. (P.S. he can do the same thing with any thought he hears.)
“May I ask (number one): where might I find this man,
and number two: is it possible that I might swallow him whole?”

One man mused:
“To hear the living whine about it: cemeteries should be considered monuments to
the suffering of the survivors of those who’ve died…..’course what I’m really noting is that they could be considered manifestations of the malignant feature of man’s
ability for mental memory………….(leastwise from my perspective).”

Men leave notes about themselves as cows leave dung.
The Way Mind Works.
One man says the best thing about having medical insurance is that it gives you a legitimate excuse for getting sick.
(He points to his head and notes that he’s not stupid enough to have a death policy.)

The Way Body Works.
It’s smart enough not to pay much attention to mind.

Whenever one man would announce a vacation his elderly grandmother would say: “How will you feel if you’re out of town and impossible to reach and I should die,”
in an attempt to make him feel bad, but which finally made him feel good,
for after thinking about it from a particular perspective,
he realized he’d actually prefer she pass away under such conditions.
(This seemingly related to a certain relationship he’d had with his natural mind.
[He also may have heard of that earlier mentioned man and his take on cemeteries.])

One man had respect for a certain magazine — until they asked to interview him.
(Bet you don’t correctly understand why.)

Mulled one man:
“The worst thing about being ill, getting old and waking-up
is that they make you become softer,” and the rebel part of his mind broke in:
“Don’t include waking-up in that, ‘cause it’s the one which doesn’t occur naturally.” (and naturally, it was correct.)

Thought one man: “If your thinking is always in reaction to other people’s thinking — you’re fooling yourself to believe that you think.”

To give himself a quick chuckle: one man will sometimes suddenly act as though
he is about to cry.

One man will sometimes pretend to be his body talking, and will say to his mind:
“Hey! — watch it Slick!”

A couple of times a year one man will glance at himself in the mirror as he passes,
and under his breath say: “You deserve better than me.”
(A chap looking for an easy laugh, perhaps?!)

For reasons not wholly clear: one man periodically accuses his mind of shop-lifting.

Every time there would be a big fire in Phoenix, one local resident would
puff out his chest and crow something about him “Rising from the ashes!”
(Certainly no shortage of comedians today.)

One man at odd times will call all of his selves together and say:
“Okay — has anybody got a plan?”

Another man put a gun to his head in an extortion attempt — boy! — did he get a laugh!

Sometimes on a slow day, one man will pretend he’s on a quiz show —
then refuse to reveal which show it is so that it’s impossible for him to play.
(He wants it known that the prize money involved is so small that he’s not missing out on much…….In some quarters this is referred to as: sour-explanations.”
“Hey!” injects he, “there was more moolah involved than quarters.”)

One man’s glass eye kept sliding around; wooden leg kept falling off,
and false teeth kept coming out,
’til he finally looked at the natural born part of his mind and growled:
“So what are you waiting for!”

Although one man appeared to be a stand-up kinda guy, truth was:
he’d roll over on himself in a heart beat!
(Which put both him and himself on the floor in a rolling fit of merriment.
[Isn’t it nice to see a family have fun together.])

One man regularly gives himself a look that screams the threat: home-invasion!
(Which gives him a beneficial feeling of stress — plus, it’s a humorous stress.)

. . . .

In city park, following several speakers’ dire discourses directed at what they pronounced to be contemporary humanity’s spiritual decline, a man took his turn atop the margarine carton (they weren’t affluent enough to afford a soap box) and said:
“What, I wonder, would our esteemed ancestors have to say concerning our modern ability for unbelievable mass destruction of our fellow man…” and from the crowd
a voice yelled: “They’d probably want to know how we do it.”
Urban Moral: Those driven to palaver about civilization do not grasp its function.

“Son: if complaining did any good — everybody would do it!”
“But pa pa — they do.”
“Ah ha! See!”

In his latter years, a would-be famous sage declared: “I am no one’s hero!”
(and a listener wondered if he intended it that way).

An anxious man is a happy man — if he is satisfied to work for minimum wage.

A realized man has little upkeep.

One man chuckled and admitted:
“When I’m out of town — I’ll buy most anyone’s story —
(‘course same is true when I’m out of my mind).”

If you believe in anything — you believe in everything — you have no choice.

A certain king, long cynical of religion, came to note that all of the various ones
he had conquered had a common thread:
in addressing their god (which he saw as their mind) they all professed:
“You are our only hope!” which caused him to finally muse:
“No matter how misdirected be the rest of their antics, this part is unwittingly valid;
too bad they don’t realize what they are actually doing and its motivation,
or from their activities they would derive even greater pleasure.”

It is most difficult for people to recognize a man to be a sage who is not
marked by sorrow;
to ordinary ears, only cautionary and reactionary words seem wise;
the consciousness with which men are naturally born cannot conceive of death
without sadness — of life without regrets;

only the one-man who privately becomes his own-man knows any other way.

J

A son asked a father: “Why don’t those who got awake give specific directions of how to do it?”
“There’s your answer.”