The Quest: It’s All About “Me”
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Notes by TK
A man tells a story about being diagnosed with incurable cancer; resolving to direct his consciousness to fight the physical malignancy since that had been left undone by the normal functioning of his body. He assiduously, consciously exhorts the immune system T-cells to attack and kill the cancer invasion. Not as a last-ditch stand, but as a good idea per se: effort worthy on its own merits—heretofore untried in human endeavor, and effected on the basis that there is no part of the body that the brain is incapable of communicating with, perhaps benefiting, for an extraordinary reason.
The man feels immediately better with this regimen, but found that he soon was deflected from this salutary activity by all the usual petty distractions of mundane living; that he was incapable of carrying out this life-saving, all-important work. Thus, even the pressure of imminent death is not sufficient to short-circuit the inertia of ordinary mentation!!
There is no reason that consciousness could not completely dedicate itself to this endeavor with nonstop obsession and maybe have inexplicable success, yet it cannot even try! But if it was given some mechanical, grasping-at-straws technique (pushing a button constantly to deliver some quack-recommended, miracle-cure medicine, for instance), that, it could do. What else does a man need to know about consciousness? (53:16) #3149
Notes by DR
Jan Cox Talk 3149 You find out you’re sick and you tell your immune cells to go over there and kill the tumor and you start telling yourself to do that with full determination. Then shortly you forget despite the intense need. Wouldn’t you talk to your immune cells ceaseless, relentlessly? And suddenly you’re back in the same old consciousness.
Jan’s Daily Fresh Real News (to accompany this talk)
ESCAPE REMAINS A POPULAR FAUX CITY TOPIC
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The Secret Blueprints Of The Sham Prison Walls
MAY 19, 2004 © 2004: JAN COX
You are not a true rebel and independent thinker if you still think of your ideas as
a minority position: a special voice of sanity in man’s mental wilderness,
for to do so requires that you see humanity’s majority views of life as being dangerously in error — which marks you as just another routine dunce.
The way to always tell if your ideas are even worse than merely wrong
is that you feel they alone are necessary to (if not save life on this planet)
to set man back on his proper path.
To know that your thinking is correct and everyone else’s is not
is to unwittingly realize that you’ve been duped;
you’re still just dreaming that you know that you’re dreaming.
Hormones vs. Neurons.
Every time the farmer kills another wolf in his corral he says:
“That will send a clear message to other wolves, and potential cattle killers
that we won’t put up with this type of unacceptable behavior.”
(The full headline of this should have read:
A Little Humor Concerning: Hormones vs. Neurons.)
Mused a guy to himself:
“One neat thing about trying to get-to-the-bottom-of-things is that in so doing
you reach a place where you no longer need anyone else to tell you:
What kind of guy you are — no! — wait, it’s even better:
you no longer have any interest in hearing anyone tell you.”
Man lives by the dual forces of needs and wants,
and is composed of physical feelings and intangible thoughts;
his needs are in the camp of feelings (hunger, thirst, etc)
while his wants are thought based;
the two can parallel one another, or be in conflict,
they can even appear to be unconnected:
this is the illusion at the center of what men’s minds see when asleep and dreaming.
To be awake to what is really going on with life is to not labor under the sensation that there is a separation between your needs and wants.
To physically survive: everyone must first be an unthinking lion;
to live as a fully functioning human: you must also hear the voice of an inner nightingale, with dreams of glory as a singer;
you must have both to be normal and civilized;
you have to privately understand the above to be abnormal and awake.
Just he says, for a chuckle, this guy named Carter calls his life: The Carter Effect.
An everyday partisan mind, by its very construct, will eventually turn belligerent.
There can be no physical peace in the jungle — not so long as the area is thriving, which is to say, as long as the creatures there are eating;
there can also be no mental or emotional peace in the city —
not as long as that particular part of man is alive and well,
which also requires that the inhabitants consume nourishment, in this instance
by the resistance-to, and rejection-of the ideas and feelings of their neighbors.
You can’t make an omelet without breaking some chicken farmers,
and you can’t develop that extraordinary promising, unused area in your mind’s
market place without first overturning the pushcarts already there which handle
naught but pre-owned ideas and emotions.
In his twenties, one man offered his ideas to any who were interested at
The collective thinking life primarily pursues through ordinary man is,
from the rebel’s perspective, morbific because of its innate and incurable infection
by self-interest, (more accurately posed): the infection of the impression that
the thoughts which appear in your brain were put there by you, and thus,
you do have a personal interest to defend them.
Being asleep (nee: stupid) won’t kill you,
but trying to protect Ali Baba’s cave can.
Those with no idea of what waking-up really is commonly believe
it has something to do with being sympathetic and helping others.
(Believe it if you can: some people do not want to be referred to the:
You Mean It’s Entirely About Me department.)
To protect the city’s stability, life does not have to prohibit any ideas that might
actually reveal to man what is really going on:
what life has done is programmed men’s minds not to hear such notions as being anything important.
The normal horses who keep the city running, charge unthinking from the firehouse when they hear the bell ring (just as they should and must),
the same situation also sends the certain man into action: studying the bell ringing.
Ideas And The Passing Of Time.
On some day’s one man’s attitude is: “The future can bite my ass.”
Defending your ideas is painting a sieve.
The certain man recognizes that his biggest debt is to the future.
Protesting the ideas of others is letting the air out of your balloon.
One man watches the clock, he says, “In retaliation.”
Trying to get others to adopt your ideas is lying to an ugly child about his looks.
On some day’s one man’s attitude is: “The future can still bite my ass.”
A speaker in city park, commenting on the eternal struggle between Truth & Error, roared: “There will be no smart alecks in heaven…..not unless your side wins…..
…..or does the other.”
Words And The Objects From Whence They Cometh.
In face to face conversations, even as he spoke and listened,
one man would be diagramming heads in his sentences.
After a lifetime of disorienting uncertainty, who but ordinary minds, when finally
told their true position would be upset by it — even if it turned out to be a prison cell;
to the certain man who knows the special way to use thinking:
all new info acts as a spur for more thinking — never suffering.
Amidst a lingering fatal illness one man mused:
“It’s weird being half dead and half alive,” and some virus in his brain added:
“Almost as weird as being half awake and half asleep.”
In city minds: some things are weirder than others,
but outside of town is something that is weirder than everything else!
Sometimes after a solo meal, wherein he had engaged in much mental business
with himself, as he would stand to leave, one man would say to himself:
“Have your mind call mine (assuming that you have one). Ta ta!”
Conversation Regarding: Harmful Ideas.
“Life doesn’t have harmful ideas.”
“Sure it does: look at all the pain and destruction certain ideas have caused man.”
“A plane flying causes stress — sometimes even breakage to the rivets.”
Partisan words and ideas are condoms to use for safe city thinking.
One fellow never looked in mirrors, explaining:
“No need — I KNOW I’m my-kinda-guy!”
The intellectually captive love to extol education and knowledge:
“I may not understand where the idea for the airplane originated,
but I have reams of figures regarding our study of its construction.”
Whatever is passing for knowledge in the city is whatever presently needs to.
Before you can out think others — you have to out die them.
One man’s pet name for the city is: Iffy-ville.
Before you can out think all things useless — you have to out live them.