Mind Sees Physical World as Reactive–Still Sees Thoughts as Active
Summary = See below
Condensed News = See below
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Notes by TK
Plants are passive, stuck in place; animals are active relatively. Man can talk/think in addition; man can take action or think-talk about action. Yet men/animals are not truly active; life is not action: it is RE-action to some other action. No man or animal instigates action, is “proactive”. It reacts. Thinking and talking are also reactive, yet the mind resists accepting this fact while acceding to the fact that all physical action is reactive.
Why do we have the sensation that the agency that produces thought is a unified, integral mass, i.e., that you are a whole, individual being, rather than the focus of a conglomeration of roiling thoughts? This sensation produces the illusion of proactive self-dom. (33:17) #3248
Jan’s Daily Fresh Real News (to accompany this talk)
HERE THEY HAVE THE BIGGEST MYSTERY OF ALL — AND NO ONE’S ON THE CASE
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Helping Focus The Inner I Of The Special Private Eye
JANUARY 10, 2005 © 2005: JAN COX
A man asked a relative:
“Would you rather be someone with a great talent in a certain area
or someone with a public forum in which to criticize those who work in that area?”
(“No one asked me, but I’ve got to tell you: that is one dirty question.”)
On any occasion when one chap would see a reflection of his self,
he’d stop for a moment – take it in – then smile and say:
“I can’t believe that all of this is me.”
When alligators heard that humans had placed them on a Protected List, they sneered.
By instinct do all know what to do.
(“Except for the civilized, of course?!”
Those who believe in the supernatural have an underdeveloped acceptance of the natural — of what it is to be human.
One man’s consciousness was in charge of both shipping and receiving.
(“It’s the only way to go,” he notes.
“To me it seems nice for men to have-a-way-to-go.”
To himself one man often sings: “You save a lot when you buy direct.”
After doctors had pronounced him terminally ill & he mentioned it to no one,
the local god came to a man and said that he’d lift the illness if the man would first agree to tell some people about his impending demise, and the deity was
quite surprised by the amount of time the man took in considering the offer.
The Mathematics Of Pleasure.
If it weren’t for being able to think about what you do, before, while and after you do it, what humans do wouldn’t be half as much fun.
(“A fourth as much to be exact, no?!”
One man says he’s found the bluebird of happiness (even though
every time he approaches it in his yard it gets huffy and tells him to buzz-off,
he still insists that he’s got the right one and it’s just trying to maintain anonymity).
One man has written a manuscript that he has titled:
“How To Get High Without Doing Yourself Any Harm,”
which his publisher countered is not possible, “Oh yeah!?” he counter countered,
“how about the matter of waking-up?!” and the publisher replied:
“Exceptions don’t count” – which completely stymied him.
One man refuses to read his own palm due to a previous unpleasant episode
when he attempted to cast his horoscope.
You save a lot when you buy direct.
Whenever he’d see a photo of his self
one man would always mutter:
“It could be anybody” —
and no one ever understood what it meant —
including (he suspected) him.
To avoid eviction, one man intends to change his name to
Wilburfuck Doublefart in the belief that no judge will want to have
his signature on a document containing such words.
On many evenings when one man would review his words for the day, he’d think:
“Who writes this tripe?”
More From The City.
One man’s advice to clients: “If you can’t adequately describe what it is
that you do, just be sure to say that it is: cutting-edge.”
One guy says he thinks that anyone who uses hand gestures when they talk
doesn’t know what they’re talking about; he admits he can’t prove it,
and that it’s probably not true, but that he likes saying it anyway.
Frequently do men hit into double plays when they feel like they didn’t deserve to be on first to begin with.
It’s not hard to get a man down when you’re on top of him.
(“Are you referring to my natural born consciousness?”
And some of you still think the spatial layout of the human nervous system is just
the result of happenstance.)
A rumor says that once in an offhand moment the muse of human consciousness admitted its great admiration for the hippopotamus: “On the surface it seems so harmless — even cuddly, yet can be so extraordinarily vicious.”
One man says you should be constantly writing to as many famous people as possible, in that all of them have a secret contest whereby every thousandth person who contacts them wins a boatload of fancy prizes.
(“That’s the kind of crap famous people have to do to stay famous,” he adds.)
One guy’s theory is that inside of them, everyone has the negative of an embryonic picture of their self – which they don’t know how to develop –
because they are its development (well, up to a certain point).
And one guy confides:
“I really don’t appreciate it when people say that I’m not
One man has a new ploy: when his mind takes off on one of its common rants about him, he’ll gently say:“I am not going to listen to you,
unless you speak to me in a less abrasive tone.”
Another chap, whenever he sees his image reflected in something,
will stop long enough to move in close and forcefully whisper to the image:
“Don’t try to make me look back.”
Bob says he sometimes wishes he was in politics so that when he engages in Bob-bashing he could accuse his self of, Bob-bashing.
One man tried every trick he knew to keep his audition tape from being made public.
If your mind feels compelled to think about other people’s questions when you hear them, you’re not being exposed to the questions that can be useful.
(“Which would come from I’ll bet I can guess where.”
In the tradition of television news program promos:
One man speaks exclusively only with his self.
By its very nature – consciousness creates mysteries.
One man became no race, no nationality, no culture, no family,
no name —
and no one he respected cared.
(“And I’ll also wager I could guess who constituted this group.”
Every night one man writes out everything he’s going to say the next day
so that he can make needed corrections in advance.
A chap asks: “How disappointed do you think buses are
when they come to a stop and no one is there.”
Another guy decided that hidden at the very bottom of every newspaper
was a secret and extraordinary additional story.
(Note: by: at-the-very-bottom he meant: you read the paper down to the
last item on the last page, then lay it aside and look –
and there is the additional story).
By just being here – consciousness creates mysteries.
Sometimes when he’d suddenly think of how happy he was to be doing
the certain thing that made his life worthwhile, one man would begin to cry –
and when he’d realize what he was doing – it’d make him laugh.
One man began to be unable to remember much of anything about his life, well –
so he pretended – (which got the job done).