Jan Cox Talk 3336

Ultimate Trick: to Be More Conscious Nowhere in Particular


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Condensed News = See below
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Notes by TK

There is great difficulty for people to talk about their feelings. Hormones have an ongoing, significant influence on neurons. Conscious reporting on current thoughts is very suspect because there is only a single process/agent to report on it; it plays both parts, so how can its reporting be valid? The only valid result is the stoppage of thought and the registering of consciousness per se. The ultimate trick: to be more conscious nowhere in particular than you are anywhere specifically. (31:10) #3336

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

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Script Ideas For Those With Strings On Their Fingers
AUGUST 8, 2005 © 2005 JAN COX

There is (unbeknownst to the general public) a world-wide, secret society of dolts, numbering at last count, some six billion.
(“Are you talking about humanity & individual people, or the brain & neurons?”
It matters!?)

Can Words Ever Be TOO Literal?
Attempting to comfort a burn patient, the nurse said:
“Aw, don’t let it get you down sugar, remember: skin’s only skin deep.”

One father’s adamant advice to his favorite son:
“Never trust a man who doesn’t write his own material.”

On one world they have two types of thoughts: those produced by men,
and those produced by a machine; hardly anyone there can tell the difference.
(The few who can, were they here, would be part of the group for whom these daily writings are intended.)

For reasons known only to him, one man refers to being-alive as:
Waking-up in the middle of a nap.

In regards to city deliveries, all errands are fool’s errands.
As concerns second-reality, how can you have anything against driving-in-circles
when the land you’re in IS a circle.

Almost all rebels drift in and out of the revolution;
it is somewhat troublesome to its leaders (if there were any), but that’s the way it is.

No one else’s thoughts support the certain-man’s,
(sounds irrational – but not to the certain-man).

The battles between good & evil, truth & falsity appear to slay men
in the second-reality;
the ordinary, in their minds, carry this over and project it into the first-reality;
there it is an illusion, yet one that the routine cherish.
Nothing kills the man-who-knows but death itself.

One guy’s take: “Anything within driving distance of my house is too close.”
(“Is that his take on literature, public ideas, or what?”
How about the land of the congenital King’s synapses?)

Trying to observe the certain-man’s thinking in action is like watching a magic act
in the dark.

“In man’s mental-only, second-reality, everything is too close to everything else;
everything is too far from everything else;
everything is too much like everything else,
and everything is too dissimilar to everything else.”
“Wow! – that’s some place!”
“There’s no where like it.”
“Exactly though, what are the advantages of having these characteristics?”
“I said something about advantages?!?”
(An eagle said to a worm: “Man! – it must really be something being you!”)

As he struggled to tighten his grip on his present synaptic connections,
a man attempted this one:
“If (as some have claimed) the worst part of being dead is not in no longer being here, then the worst part of being alive cannot be in being here?!?
Where then does all of that leave me and my thoughts about the matter?”

There is only one type of disregard that counts – indifferent disregard.
(If a worm could talk, would he not say: “I don’t care that I can’t fly.”)

In an improbable manner, the man-who-knows lives in, The Infinitely Adjacent – always: “Just over there.”
Sitting mentally still is what causes men to grow two buttocks,
with two scores of sores.
(Unlike everyone else, the rebel’s abacus doesn’t stop just before three.)

Routine Memory: The arrogance of death feigning viability.

One man, in an attempt to move his education along most swiftly, said to his self:
“Look – I’ll say almost anything to you if it’ll help. Now what d’ya say?”

One rebel played with the same model train ‘til his little engineer fell asleep
at the throttle.
ALL rebels face this risk – it’s not their fault – it’s simply a product of
the legal boundary lines drawn on a man’s natural mind.
(Aka: You can’t really see Shangri La [the far edge of reality] until you’re able to picture
a place beyond even that.
Yes, everyone knows that is impossible ––– what else is new.)

No one dreams of freedom more, nor does less about it than the normally imprisoned.

Piece Of A Dialogue.
“Your genes determine how well and easily you fall asleep.”
“You mean at night, in bed!?”
“You heard me say that, did you?!”

All that man can dream of is somewhere, already past.
(“’Tis a far similar thing I do now to what I’ve done before, and a damn shame.”)

Somewhere among his advice to the kid regarding first, physical reality,
the ole man included:
“Don’t let the big boys push you around – unless,
they’re bigger than you…………..and seem to want to push-you-around.”
(Aka: Don’t argue with a volcano.)

One day, Life said: “I will only rest easy once the last inner-rebel hasn’t been killed.”


Jan’s Daily
You’re-Still-Standing News
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