Jan Cox Talk 3171

It’s Not Funny to Be Alive—It’s Funny to Be Conscious That You Are


The following recordings are from Jan’s final years, when his voice was diminished and he spoke in a low whisper. Some listeners may find these tapes hard to listen to, or difficult to understand. Thus, as another option, transcripts are being made and will be posted.

Otherwise, turn up the volume and enjoy! Those who carefully listened to Jan during this period consider that he spoke plainly and directly to the matter at hand, “pulling out all the stops,” as he understood that these were to be his last messages to his groups, and to posterity.

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Notes by TK

The desire for enlightenment and the playing of improvised music derive from the same source. In a sense one has “dropped the score” but continues to play the music, withal. It’s not funny to be alive; it’s funny to be conscious that you are. One cannot be in the space of playing unscripted music (asleep) and be aware of it at the same time. This is not true of any other activity (e.g., dancing, painting, reading, etc.) for all normal physical/emotional activity cannot take place w/o being aware of it.

Ergo: the singular, defining feature of humanity—consciousness—operates w/o any attention or control! Awareness comes only after the fact, via memory, invoking an illusory ‘me’ or ‘I’ to disguise the agency of its arising. Consciousness does not dictate or script what it does. There is only one thing that consciousness can be certain of: it is not in control! Why does it say otherwise?

All that’s required to highlight this reality is the question: ‘what are you going to think (or say) next?’. How is it possible that men don’t realize this? (37:43) #3171

Notes by DR

Jan Cox Talk 3171       It’s not just funny to be alive, it’s that you’re conscious that you are. As long as you are in the spot, in the place, where the unscripted music is being played, you can never be aware of it. If your consciousness is in the midst of itself, it’s not possible to realize what’s going on. There’s nothing else like this. Can you be in the midst of dancing and not know you’re dancing, sculpting, painting a picture? Can you be in the midst of emotions that can be described and not know it? Consciousness, our singular feature, operates without any attention or control. You interfere with it and you become conscious. Consciousness made up the idea of a ‘you’ in you so that consciousness could talk about you not paying attention to consciousness.

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

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Secrets Of The Hostage-Whisperer
JULY 9, 2004 © 2004: JAN COX

How Consciousness Works, Vis A Vis What Is Going On,
Even When Its Assessment Thereof Is Incorrect.
Even if the persisting insistence by some that a secret group of men actually control human affairs on this planet is not correct, is it not interesting how such a theory
fits all the facts and would answer many, if not all of the questions that so
bewilder man about the dynamics of mortal existence.
(How fascinating that something so improbable can sound so plausible.)
“Pa pa: what should this be telling me about what is going on all around me
which I do not aright see?”

Stepping out on his front porch to fetch the morning paper, a man found a note stuck
in the screen door which said: “Cheer up! – it’s going to be a miserable day anyway,” and he knew from the tone of voice that it was definitely from him.

Men whining and complaining are life’s ongoing public service announcements
which are intended to cause men to make life better.
“So you’re saying that I do work for a charitable activity — boy! — is that a laugh!”

The nervous-system-rebel has no interest in solving prison problems.
(If you aspire to be one: consider this deeply.)

If you stray too far from prevailing bovine paradigms, your mooing will go unheard.
(This refers to the aural form: it is just the opposite for the certain man’s inner cranial communiqués to himself.)

Proclaimed a park speaker to passers by:
“Consciousness can do more than one thing at a time;
consciousness can do more than two things at a time;
consciousness can do more than three things at a time,
and for all you know — even that may not be the end of it.”
(Prison officials quickly grabbed the chap and at least brought an end to him and his comments.)

As his final moments were approaching, a dying monarch declared:
“History will exonerate me!” and history muttered:
“You better bring plenty of changes of underwear.”

If you feel the need to apologize for telling the truth (as you see it)
you either: Apologize too freely – or (well, no need to go there, you know what the other possibility is).

The Difference Described Again (This Time, Differently).
Although everyone is in partnership with life –
everyone (save the certain man) is also under its complete domination.
“I once worked for an enterprise which paid quite poorly but made up for it by
continually hinting that I was its very favorite employee with great things in store.”
“What was the name of this enterprise?”
“Are you just pretending to be a dunce!”
“Hey!” injected the world’s adult population, “What a coincidence:
we work for that same outfit.” (In your dreams they said that.)
One king instructed his guillotinists to always compliment the condemned on the appearance of their hair.
(“So! — not all rulers are complete dolts.”
Indeed! – none are.)
“Wait up! – are you suggesting that even when life seems to stumble
(at least from humans’ view) that it’s not really doing so?! –
if that be true, then there IS a gigantic conspiracy — and oh my gawd! –
just look who’s behind it!”
(Publisher’s Note: That last man’s outburst of insight was not an actual news story,
but rather, a bit of fiction.)

Sighed hormones: “We may be depressed, but at least we’re dressed nicely.”
In prison: looks are everything:
in the thinking of the restless therein: looks mean nothing.
Tigers and water holes are attractive;
priests and doctrines – forget about it!
(Unless of course you are a dedicated prisoner – then they are much needed.)
Not by poets in the inner chambers of wealthy sponsors are myths writ –
nay, eternally do they subtly embrace, like an unseen fog, the mental herd that is man.
You do not have to search for stories to explain and excuse your captivity –
they come with the condition.
(Only he-who-knows is free of man’s natural taste for fiction.)

There was once a man who wanted to catch the world’s largest fish,
and he made up so many stories about how you might do it,
that he never got around to any actual angling.
(The preceding was either: Depressing Tale Of The Week,
or: Joke For The Day, or: Inspirational Thought For Those Not Easily Hooked.)

Once foes and fears are fully recognized,
apparently opposing forces can salute and smile at one another as they pass.
The tensions and collisions inherent in life’s activities necessary for it to remain viable in this universe, function not unlike caterers’ bolstering camaraderie in
Roller Derby’s locker room.
The real-deal-man doesn’t mind dying – or being knocked around the track –
as long as it’s not alleged to be for some metaphysical purpose.

Even though all thoughts are ultimately fungible –
it is still good for the rebel to make his own as biodegradable as possible.

“Jeeze! – I fer sure don’t wanna be stuck forever with THIS stuff all over my head!”