For Rebel, Complexity Is Problem, but Nonexistent for the Awakened
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Notes by TK
The complexity of life is a pseudo complexity; useless, needless, complexity resides in man’s mental-only, secondary reality. Being asleep is being immersed in the meaningless complexity of secondary reality. If your aim is to be ordinarily happy, complexity is your meat. For the rebel however, complexity is a problem; for the awakened it is nonexistent. (48:41) #3311
Jan’s Daily Fresh Real News (to accompany this talk)
SECRET RESEARCH SHOWS
SERIOUSNESS TO BE THE CAUSE OF
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The Enlightened Doofus’ Daily Guide
JUNE 10, 2005 © 2005 JAN COX
Ordinary men do not want to settle in an uninhabited mental area
any more than they would in a physical one.
(Humanity’s innate anthem: “I want to be surrounded by others –
including their thoughts.”)
In man’s second-reality, if you start singing one of its activities’ songs,
someone else will soon be singing harmony along with you.
(The general tenor in the city is the urging: “Okay folks – keep things moving.”)
To an outside restaurant observer, the most important person in the operation
is the chef, but to the chef, it is without question the dishwasher.
Every activity clearly cannot be carried on without the participation of
one obvious entity – but it is also dependent on one not so obvious,
who goes generally unnoted.
(“Yes, I see the engine – but not the exhaust.”
In regard to his own temperament, one man acted as his own dishwasher.
“That’s the only way to get the job done properly.”)
Pondered a man: “Does Life fatten us up for the leaning? –
moving us from the juvenile middle-aged spread, into the elderly frailty?” He chewed on this for a moment or so – then experienced the wondering of whether something similar occurs with man’s consciousness.
Regarding The City Citizen’s Representation.
If there really was such an animal as key-legislation in man’s mental only world –
it would never get passed.
Only those who do not understand what Life is capable of
are surprised and shocked by it.
No matter what time he awoke each morning, one man would roll over,
look at his self and say (in a tone of exasperation): “Well never mind –
if you’re not up by now, it’s already too late.”
(Which made him feel……well, you can figure that one out.)
Metaphysics Among The Cranes & Flamingos.
For maximum efficiency, one man eats while he sits on the toilet.
(“Don’t we all!?”
In the neural parliament wherein it is possible for new ideas to be introduced for consideration and acceptance, one man allows only him to represent him.
One old dude used to like to say (or at least we should hope he liked to say it….
seeing as how he said it so often, anyway) he liked to say:
“Having an eye for the beautiful doesn’t mean that you are,”
then one day right after saying this he had the thought:
“Instead of saying that about beauty, what if I said it about intelligence –
would that mean anything?” –
and after living with that question for a few measures, thought: “Gawd! I hope not!”
The nervous-system-rebel’s primary source of nourishment is him.
Doctors’ Secret Gambit.
When you don’t know how to treat a man’s apparent illness – tell him he’s dying.
Apparently taking his cue from another contemporary concern,
one man claims he suffers erectile dysfunction in his thinking.
All second-reality episodes that begin as tragedies — end as tragedies.
According to the outlier’s calendar: in the city, every day is April first.
(“And when you realize it – you get to leave – right?!”)
Life only allows men to be hornswoggled when it does them no harm.
(“You mean: Men of ordinary consciousness, correct!?”)
The investigator properly working to solve-the-case
gets most of his clues from his own creativity.
As he gazed at his canine companion, a man mused:
“Dogs have worms in their intestines, while I seem to have them in my neurons.”
In that extraordinary world where the special-investigator works to solve-the-Great-Case, being stingy is the sure path to poverty.
The certain-man will live only in a house of his own construction.
Those who live primarily in the mind
live a life other than the one others see them lead.
Tsunamis cannot be predicted – neither can the rebel’s liberating thoughts.
More About Mental Government.
In the city, no individual is truly represented.
Everybody has an iPod IN them.
The ideas in the certain-man’s garden — grown exclusively from his own privately developed seeds — seem to his normal neighbors pretty insignificant and pointless.
And that’s the way it is — this day — on planet earth —
in the wonderful world of inner vegetation.
Centered On The Rockefeller.
To ever solve-the-Great-Case
you must be able to skate on the edge of a skate blade.
Into your ear, one guy inserts this nugget:
“The neatest part of having a terminal illness is that you no longer care a fig about having a cold, a cataract, or hemorrhoids: the very kinda stuff that would have previously bugged the hell out of you, and from that I’ve also come to realize
the many benefits of being the most clueless and unenlightened person alive.”
There was once a blind spiritual guru who, based on the positive aural responses
he heard from his audiences, believed his teachings were embraced by all, but unbeknownst to him, his listeners were always waving signs that ridiculed his ideas, and making faces that mocked him as he spoke;
but how could he ever know the truth of the situation;
he could live, speak for sixty years, and die convinced of the position he mentally pictured that he held in the overall scheme of things, vis a vis the relationship between his personal understanding of Life and everyone else’s lack of same.
The Ultimate Game could indeed consist of: one vs. six billion, and its score
could turn out to be the very opposite of what the one had expected it to be.
This little hanging chad is perhaps, the final intimate chuckle that
the certain-man passes on his infinite journey. (“Okay boys – read ‘em and grin.”)
Note: If you find your extraordinary ideas entirely inappropriate targets for laughter,
be assured that you are not one who understands how things really are with Life.
As a certain psychiatrist counsels all his blues guitarist patients with latent sexual dysfunctions:
“Don’t robert your johnson.”
Jan’s Lighten-Up Daily News
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