Guilt Is the Lack of Awareness That Internal Talk Isn’t You
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.
Summary = See below
Condensed News = See below
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Notes by TK
You can’t be critical of anything and understand it. This is patently obvious externally. But with internal disapproval it is not nearly so obvious. Silent consciousness is so filled with the sui generis stories (secondary reality) of talking consciousness that everyone can’t help but be self-critical. Guilt is the lack of awareness that the talking consciousness is not you. (43:46) #3266
Jan’s Daily Fresh Real News (to accompany this talk)
KIDS WITH THE EQUIPMENT
GET TO PICK THE GAME
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The Outlier’s One True Sport
FEBRUARY 25, 2005 © 2005: JAN COX
Even as passengers in Second Reality Class continued to believe that the ship was
(or at least, should be) sinking, a certain stowaway (acting secretly as his own ballast
and crow’s nest) sang to his self this long forgotten sea shanty which succinctly comments on the steerage crowd’s contorted view:
“Oh the world of the mind – can save your behind.”
In the first, primary reality there are progressions but no beginnings;
in man’s second, inner reality – just the contrary.
It appears that one man has set up the equipment in his attic so that one thought
will automatically trigger another. (Sounds like a real energy-saver, huh?!)
One chap says he has decided that the face he sees in the mirror is not his own;
he admits this sounds ludicrous but says it still beats the alternative.
“Remember,” cautioned one local reality, “there are seven steps to captivity,
but only seven to freedom.”
One of the speakers in city park today had this to say:
“If a wheel believes itself on a magnificent journey – it is never satisfied unless
it is turning,” and to everyone in the assembled crowd who nodded their agreement thereto, an organizer from the W.B.A. (The Worry, Booze & Anger Union)
handed an application for membership.
Normal people’s interest in biographies is the hope that others have done better than they; their interest in gossip is that others have done worse;
the man who understands-what’s-going-on has no particular interest in what others have done, indeed, the deeper grows his comprehension
the less interest he even has in how he has done.
When all is said and done all you really have is what was done –
not what consciousness said was done;
interpretation has its place – in fact, at the very center of man’s all-important,
inner, second reality – but don’t bother bringing buckets of water to Newcastle.
In lieu of real thoughts, one man had mini thoughts
(well, seeing as how it was his self, he was charitable enough to call them, mini).
One kid refused to listen to the ole man’s tales of human horrors & atrocities, and the elder pressed him, saying: “But how else will you learn of the crudeness of man?!”
to which the younger replied: “Through having you trying to tell me such stories.”
Though quite tricky to realize: only consciousness can unscramble itself.
In one reality, the local god sends every newborn a card exclaiming:
“Come as you are!”
And this email just in:
If, in some subtle fashion, all these entities you write about (the father & son;
gods & kings; the city & rebel areas; the first & second reality) are actually manifestations of our own consciousness, then how in sweeny’s sweet name
do you explain my Uncle Floyd?!
In one kingdom there is a surreptitious Minister Of Contusion Calculations,
so that while the people always enjoy receiving such, they are unaware they are
(“No sir, count me out: I do not want to know precisely how stupid I am;
it’s enough of a drag just having to be here.”
Spoken like a true champion of make-believe city freedom.)
The ordinary measuring of human progress could be described as second-reality’s attempt to distance itself as far as possible from the first (in the eyes of human consciousness).
The song is no longer just for kids:
“Oh, you’ll – never get away, never get away, never get away, never get away,
never get away – oh you’ll…”
“Yeah yeah, we get it, we get it.”
(Pst! – that’s what they always say in the city when they don’t get it.)
Then there was this other god who would let anybody into his heaven who would simply sign a release form absolving the Big Guy from any responsibility for
their just completed life.
One man didn’t like anybody as much as he did his self:
Wow! – imagine what a self that must have been!
Chanted a child: “My knee is me and so is my mind –
but my knee never bugs me by talking about it.”
The king scratched his chin; furrowed his brow and looked pensively off into the vague distance and said: “Is it possible that I am wrong?” – and the entire court instantly leaped to its feet and exclaimed: “No Sire! – it is not possible!” – and he said:
One ole sorehead’s fatherly advice to his burr-rated nipper:
“Never trust anybody who’ll accept your explanation.”
(Even a dazed badger can recognize when he is in wolverine territory.
“No he can’t!”
And that’s how he knows.)
One fellow found life so enjoyable that he said he would consider coming back –
if someone really attractive invited him.
(Wow! – just imagine what a life that must have been!)
Some good and bad news: The man who so incessantly insisted that he had invented the preposition has passed away.
Only three things prop up man’s inner reality (and three of them are the same thing).
Said the ole man to the kid:
“Since you’re the kid and I’m the ole man, I’m gonna call you, kid,
and I’m gonna tell you some ole-man-stuff (like this):
‘If you ever did answer all of your critics – you’d no longer have any critics —
then where would you be!?’”
Ordinary attempts at acting serve to highlight the difference between human emotion and real emotion.
Do not bother giving a sponge bath to a sponge.
Department Of: Here We Go Again.
Hormones start fun – hormones can finish it.
As the king primed the knights for their latest adventure he announced to them:
“He of himself who’d say: ‘I am wrong’ –
might as well stay home.”