The Stand-up Midstream Vs the Float Method of Thinking
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Notes by TK
Automatic thinking requires no effort. To think independently requires effort. The “stand-up in midstream” method of effort (instead of float along with the swift flow). (43:26) #3358
Jan’s Daily Fresh Real News (to accompany this talk)
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Coaching On How To Execute The Unassisted Mental Triple Play
SEPTEMBER 28, 2005 © 2005 JAN COX
After he died (as a reward for nothing in particular that could be immediately ascertained)
the gods gave this one man his choice of either writing his autobiography,
or having his private parts warmed up in a microwave.
(“I must say that people around here have a quite curious concept of reward.”)
The entire conceit of reward & loss in the realm of man’s mental-only-reality
opens up wide new vistas on the word ludicrous.
Then, gradually appearing on the riser was a choir who began to sing,
to the tune of the Flabavian National Ramthem:
“When the mind is free – it’s freedom’s from me –
what else is there to be free from!?” –
and a stagehand muttered: “How ‘bout from Life’s omnipresent influence!?” –
and the Music Librarian snarled: “Somebody shut him up!”
Fact: No one can keep a lid on things like the one who IS all things.
(“Pa pa, is that why a mouth can’t make itself shut up?”)
A certain chef,
(rumored to be unnaturally familiar with the nature of words)
offers this culinary tip:
“You can add raisins to anything.”
One guy says that for years he was bollixed by how his mind could at one instance, hold a view that was in direct conflict with one it had previously expressed –
until he considered the ability of a thermos bottle to know whether its contents
of the moment should be kept hot, or cold.
A few days later, a related notion hit him:
“Yeah, but there’s a major distinction in that you have to go purchase a thermos.”
Then a few days after that, a twist on all of this metaphorically moved on his mind:
“What prisoner but man is forced to furnish his own bars and bunk!?”
Upon hearing the term moonstruck, one chap cheerfully thought:
“Well, I’m me-struck,” but then was immediately made not so cheerful
by having thought that.
(“See Luke, hits jest like I done tole you: hits safest jest not to think anything
in perticerler regardin’ yerself.”
[FYI: Luke frequently wonders why his brother Bubba talks in this idiom inasmuch as he majored in Speech & Rhetoric at Cambridge.])
Every morning one chap stands before his bathroom mirror and with an open hand, strikes himself smartly in the face in the attempt (says he) to:
“Slap the sham seriousness right out of me.”
As he lay on the mortician’s table, the man looked up at the practitioner,
and attempted to explain what had brought him to his present position:
“Words — nothing but damn words,”
and the embalmer gently patted his cold shoulder and injected:
“No, what you should say is that it was your taking words seriously.”
In case you haven’t realized just how low the intellectual food chain goes:
even worse than those who talk-about-their-self are the ones who go into detail concerning their racial, religious, cultural or nationalistic background.
(It’s unseemly enough, shitting in public, but turning out larger than normal turds
is a bit over the top even for a human.)
Once or twice a year, one man writes a letter to the editors of the leading newspapers and magazines which asks: “Is that why?”
When you don’t understand what’s going on with Life and humans,
you need to hear what other people think about you to have anything near a firm idea of what you think about you.
Ordinary people can’t tell if they are a good-person without having such input from outside sources.
To save the expense of sketch pads,
one man drew caricatures of his self in his mind.
(He rarely shared them with anyone else, but they did privately provide him with much fun.)
Now another item from our files: Weird! – But True As A Turnip.
Those who try to note the oneness of things run the risk of disturbing the antipodal illusion for everyone else, and of course by so doing, disturbing the peace & tranquility of the second-reality, so innocently residing in man’s otherwise boring & bland mind.
As the illustrative Caesar grew pensive and turned his gaze far beyond the confines
of Rome, he ruminated:
“Does the real fault, Dear Brucetus, lie in our thoughts – or in the container we are given to carry them in?”
(“I spit!” snarled Sir Francis Expectorant, “on any mechanism that helps facilitate
the flotsam that sails through my mind, attempting to pass itself off as
valuable cargo. Thewey!– I spit on thee!”)
The Standard Generational Legacy.
Physically, people hand down handicrafts;
mentally, they pass along nonsense.
In the city, what greater fun do men have than having heroes? –
and then learning of their weaknesses, misfortunes and paranoias.
One would-be author, rather than writing the full novels he’d initially intended to,
drew up instead, extensive outlines that simply named the characters involved,
and noted highlights of the action (not unlike how he lived his own inner life since awakening).
To one man, the weekend represents the supreme metaphor.
If a so-called gang practices any exclusivity and is difficult to join – it is no gang.
(Same with the mind vis a vis the thoughts commonly available to it.)
Just as the superior physical man would for fun, engage in something more challenging than that pursued by the average man (for instance: rhino tipping)
so too does the uncommon mental man knock over thoughts
apparently larger than those which ordinary people are willing to tackle.
Jan’s Daily Encouraging News
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