Poison Twice Swallowed

If it be true that a great orator is one who can convince himself, then what praises are due “the voices”?

Justifying an act is compounding a felony; excusing a word is a poison twice swallowed.

Living on the advice of other fools is one way to pay double for everything.

Life’s movements and Man’s speech always say the same thing, (but only a Few can make the correct translation).

Every conscious act makes room for itself.  (Believe me, there are enough vacuums to go around for everybody.)

Where knowledge is needed, force is of little value.  But when a force is required, don’t try and chop wood with a philosopher’s teeth.

J.

Bring the Beauty!

If the contemporary idea is correct that everything seems to flow from a state of order to a state of chaos, why is it not suspected that “chaos” might be the natural order of things?

It is often hard to find beauty,
unless you bring some with you.

It is often hard to find advice,
unless you’re lucky.

No matter how carefully anger is aimed toward another, the result is always a bullet-to-the-foot.

What does ordinary consciousness more firmly embrace, but that which it understands the least?

Only those words and deeds that are necessary are just, (not to mention, satisfying).

J.

Establish Your Own Morality

Nothing is true from every point of view, but then again, from some point of view, everything is true.

That which is beyond repair must be beyond recall.

Speech may be the gift of all Men, but few ever get past the wrapping.

You must establish your own overriding stand of morality.  You must superimpose it on the inner voices of ordinary guilt and suffering.  You cannot accept the voices who cry, “Oh, I’m aware of my follies, and I am working toward a solution.”  You must abandon this, and decide beforehand that certain thoughts, words, feelings and deeds are no longer acceptable to your higher screen of consciousness regardless of conditions, or internal excuses.

Anger towards a lie becomes its proof.  (May I assume that some of you understand that the reality of this does not necessarily require the presence of two bodies?)

J.

Leap to Fill Triads!

I hate to admit it, but it is true:  Those who never run, never trip.

You must not allow vacuums to exist in your personal triads, for Life will mechanically fill them.  You must leap in yourself and do so, by any word or deed necessary.  In these circumstances, nothing could be more dangerous than your own inaction.

Politeness must surely be a sign of something or other…

Only the dead are never wrong.  (And who would’ve ever expected a voice from a future grave.)

A committee of twelve may uncover some “great truth” (if eleven of them are out of town.)

J.

The True Defenders of Life

I trust you can all hear this by now, so I will go ahead and tell you that it is “bad” knowledge that cannot be altered.  (Although fools can prove this, only the Few understand.)

It has been said that it is not good for a Man to have everything he wants; but how about the reverse?

Ordinary consciousness has an observable suppressor which keeps certain information from staying on the screen with sufficient intensity to become part of clear memory.  You must construct your own willful suppressor to facilitate the same results, under our own direction.

Only the true defenders of Life shall live and endure.

If it is true what they say, that a Man’s “natural manner best suits him,” then why does everyone seem so ill clothed.

J.

Look Again

That which does not advance, recedes…and the proclaimed innovators of yesterday become the repetitive old fools of today.

Anything you can explain to your own satisfaction, you don’t understand.

Where nothing is seen, look again.

Human emotions can be seen as a ditch between the Red and Yellow circuits.  Some

yellow-centered types appear to have almost, somehow “leapt” over this captive gully, but the Few should not-to-worry, for they must all trudge through this trench on their own, and thus they will remember Man’s evolution from deep, red dangerous devils, to more controllable blue outages.

Even after all of the wondrous advances in science and technology, crooked sticks still cast crooked shadows.  Couldn’t you just spit.

J.

Growth is Good

You must each grow up to an ordinary level equal to Life’s present maturity, as reflected in its latest generation.  Instead of speaking for D-Force through automatic resistance to the following generation’s changes in attitudes, standards and behavior, you must See that Life has its own continuing higher morality that is:  Growth is good, stagnation, bad.

Ordinary criticism of life is like examining one piece of a jigsaw puzzle, and deciding it to be without beauty, form or function.  Its form may appear asymmetrical and ungainly, and its colors may seem unsatisfying, even in conflict with themselves.  But once the piece is properly positioned and is seen in the total context of the completed picture, no such criticism is valid.

I suspect that a fuller understanding of the relative nature of Life’s unfolding triads would rearrange one’s present notions of pride and shame.  May I offer this observation:  A lion does not hunt worms.

There is a certain unrecognized aspect to Man’s repetitive daydreams; they either seem to concern things that he has never done, or else involve things indeed done, but in an unsatisfactory fashion.  Now, where to start?

Women have been driven to ordinarily identify themselves primarily through men’s reactions to them. Such a conception of one’s self by an externally forced outline should be abandoned like last year’s fashion.  (Men have a similar problem, but it’s so intertwined with all their other ills that I just don’t feel like getting into it right now.)

J.

One of These Days

No form of criticism will ever lead to understanding. Couldn’t we all just spit.

Only they succeed who are deaf to the words, “Success” and “Failure.”

It is for the ordinary to react to that which is new in a negative manner.  It is an aspect of  D-Force, moving through Man, to restate the status quo and reaffirm its repressive position. (Need I add, that this whole thing should be avoided like a herd of insurance salesman.)

An isolated “I” is a form of one-syllable suicide.

Those who are wont to say,
“Ah, but one of these days,”
actually mean,
“Well, none of these days.”

J.

Holiday Edition

Once upon a time…

     On a farm, I mean, universe, some 37 degrees from here at a green angle, there were two plantation owners, no, I mean, gods, that's right, gods, and these two gods, named Uberzoplay and, Mister Charlie, were sitting on the front veranda, sipping veranda style drinks, when Uberzo said, “How is it that you seem to spend so little time in having to directly oversee your workers?  You're always out playing golf, and snoozing, and I have to spend almost all my time just seeing that my hands stay on the job. How do you do it?”

     Mister Charlie leaned back in his sipping chair and smiled. “Well, I'll tell you.  You are right, other than shippin’ ‘em out a flood, or some brimstone now and then, I got my people operating almost entirely on their own without no proddin’ from me, and I'll tell you how I did it.”

     “Back when I first made, I mean, invented, no, I mean, hired, yeah, hired my workers, I made ‘em into two separate groups of “this-and-that,” least that's what I call it, and this made-up arrangement makes ever swingin’-dick-of-‘em believe that he, or she, is eternally in conflict with at least half of all the other hands.  And that's all there is to it.  I just breed ‘em now so that they're born feeling the experience of this division into two conflicting groups of “this-and-that,”  “us-or-them,” or anything you wanna’ call it, and now I don't have to always be standing over ‘em with a whip, or stick; they got this natural born irritation built right into ‘em, so the friction  energy to work is always there, just as close, and natural as their own sweet breath.”

     “Wait a minute," said Uberzo, “Just exactly what are the things you've made them believe divides them, and makes the conflict to keep them going?”  “Hell,” said Mister Charlie, “Ain't no ‘exact-ness’ needed, once I got the deal all arranged, and operating, they just conflicts on almost anything that can cross a field hand’s mind, or liver.”

     Mister Charlie, right here, laughed real good, took a swaller and continued, “They'll conflict over the weather, the time of day, how fast some ole mule’ll run, how fast a belief’ll go.  You just wouldn't believe it; they keep themselves all worked up all the time, over stuff that don't mean spit, but there it is.  That's how I done it, and I'm just as proud as warm piss.”

     Uberzo was lookin’ kinda peeved, and Charlie said, “You're just mad you didn't think of it.”

J.

The Three

Can any of you hear inverted echoes from the ancient tales of a big-god having trouble with lesser gods, and then banishing them from his presence?  Can you detect earlier rumblings of Man becoming aware of growth only being possible when the Primal Flow has split into The Three and each then goes its own way?

As long as I have been around, Life has been prodding Men to proclaim, “We must learn from our mistakes.”  But who can see this as a 3-dimentional expression of the tri-axial dance of D to C to E to D to C to E, and so on?  Or, can you even see it on another level, as an unrecognized notation of Life surviving despite its mistakes?

Is it not curious that everything I say eventually “fits”?

I once heard a discussion amongst a group of Men regarding the notions of a god and his

anti-god, demonic counterpart, and of humanity, the spoils over which they battled.  The discussion finally reached the stage of them wondering whether it would be preferable to be god, in such a scenario, or the devil.  After much talk, one man concluded that it would be better to be the devil, inasmuch as he would surely be the only one capable of laughter.  The conversation stilled for awhile, and I thought they had run-their-course, until another man said, “Contrarie`; in such a scheme this devil would have been the product of the god, and the creator would have the greater laugh on the subject of his creation.”  I thought this would really end the discussion, but suddenly another fellow spoke up and said, “No, I believe it would be preferable to be an insightful human who understood the value of the prizes over which the two do battle.  He would surely have the best, and last, laugh.”

Would it be better:

To be rich or famous?

To be beautiful or talented?

To be wise or powerful?

To be tall or short?  Slim or fat?

…you know once you get started with this there’s almost no stopping.

J.

A Secret Weapon

If indeed all problems are but symptoms, and all medicines placebos, then might all words be but euphemisms?

Another secret weapon that should be tucked in the belt of all mid-full travelers:

Take conscious responsibility for all things, especially those that seem totally not of your doing, or desire, and beyond any perceivable control.

The ancient notion of Men wanting to be the “servant of God,” can be seen as the desire for an acknowledged position with an identifiable master, or partner, rather than a helpless wanderer in Life’s overall, impersonal dance.

Although ordinary memory is a way in which Life works through Man to recycle previously spent energies, the Few must note that although such memory can apparently raise-the-dead, it cannot return to it the healthy-blush-of-life.  (Hence, you could say that the only good memory is a forgotten one.)

Might there be no nouns, only the matter of seamed-together-scenes as flashed through the projector of fragmented consciousness?  (Perhaps after death, instead of a physical paradise, Life will award Oscars to the most disjointed.)

J.

The Ultimate Trip

All knowledge becomes increasingly cool and remote as it moves through the time of Man’s memory.  Memory says that this should not be so, but it does not perceive itself amidst the heat exchange as well.

As a teaching experiment, I once tried to convince an interested fellow that he “didn’t really exist.”  We met on a regular basis as I implanted intricate new threads in his mental cloth.  And although he initially rebelled at such an irrational notion, I slowly made headway with my undertaking.  I was, in fact, very near to winning him over when he just suddenly quit showing up and I never saw him again.

The continual attempt to ignite, then reignite, the 4th Circuit is THE cure for boredom.  It is the essential ride, the ultimate trip.

Life has caused Man to proclaim, “You can’t understand another until you have walked a mile in his shoes,” and this can be understood as a verbal urging to move from a D-step into a C-one.  But to move onto that 4-dimensional path one must be able to walk a thousand miles in everyone’s shoes without leaving home.  (Dr. Scholls can’t help you.)

It is said, scientifically speaking, that a “fact” is something that is repeatable; I ask you then, are Men verifiable facts?  (Worse-Y-And-No-Matter-What:  The voices of their awareness are undeniably so.)

J.

Life's Corporation

Ordinary awareness sees human life as a string of seamed scenarios, and has not yet the ability to question the apparent rips and tears in an otherwise un-disjointed universe.

In the Human Department of Life’s Corporation, I could note for you three levels of mortal commentaries on the health of the business: 
The first level speaks of problems;
the second level, of despair;
the third level speaks of possibilities. 
It is you who must help develop a fourth level.

While it is necessary to give complex directions to those who are simple, simple directions are all that is needed for the complex.  (Of course, the complex of whom I speak must have a simple understanding of their condition.)

You should be delighted to begin to see that no one view is ever correct, and no one instance a statement of reality.

Another great thing about sex-amongst-the-masses is that they can fully enjoy a guilt without actually doing the guilty act.

J.

Routine Things

An ordinary Man says, “I need to talk about my interests; the more I explain my ideas to others the better I understand them myself.”  Thus, a routine thing is never fully formed and plotted until it is declared.  Only those incomplete, impossible scenes formed from the pieces of three different puzzles offer any promise.

That which may seem t be firmly in the arms of the D-wind can be viewed from another area of the dance floor as a king of “hoped-for-C.”  And from the balcony it can be seen that the partners of the Three Muses are all the same, only different in time.

I once met a Man who, when emotionally upset and destabilized, would only admit that he was back working “part time.”

“You must learn to hold the irrelevant dear.”  I once mentioned this to a guy on the sub-continent, and damned if he didn’t start a whole business with it.  Then again, a bit West of there I told another old dude that, “Man must strive to rise above his older, baser passions,” and he damn-near killed half the population trying to get the message across.

Each person, no matter their Grid position, no matter the schematics of their wiring; be they tall, fat, short, slim, gleeful leapers or midnight weepers, one and all, be they blatant, joyful proof of Life’s good health and continuing growth; had the fertilizer plants been destroyed, Bach would no longer be among us.

J.

Bad News

If it be as I have noted, that all news is bad news, then what might be the nature of anti-news?  (Just because something is not in the dictionary doesn’t mean that the dictionary is not in something else.)

In the affairs of Man, that which may initially seem to arise from the Muse of the new, fresh and alive, should it survive long enough, can later be seen as a gross satire of itself.  You can find ready examples all about, or you can wait until you are fifty, and look back at your childhood photographs.

Man alone is able to recycle spent energies via Yellow/circuit memory.  An overall pleasing boost to Life’s experience, but a pain-in-the-ass to many of the individual participants.

The old ideas that say, “God struggles to reveal himself to Man,” would now be better put as, “Life reveals itself through Man.”  Just as you must certain faculties to understand yourself, so too does Life; and Man is that faculty.

Those who worry up a sweat over the possibility of machines being “made to think,” don’t personally have much of an intellectual position to be concerned over.

J.

Time's Up!

I don’t intend to give anyone the blues, but I should point out that if any of you still have a real desire to be famous, you better get on it before you understand something and it’s too late.

You know, life is kinda like gaudy upholstery.  I’m serious, think about it.

Man often says that he exists in a 3-dimensional universe with time as a fourth extension, but this is specious in that time is merely how ordinary consciousness sequences apparent events for the sake of memory and manipulation.  Events have no sense of time, other than Mans’ perceptions imposed thereon.  Worse yet, ask I:  Might there be no events, only observations?

Many people, in the earlier stages of their involvement with This, express the feeling that they are becoming “less of an interesting person,” and you know, they could be right.

Have you yet to note how artists of all types lose the original passion in their work once the initial resistance to it has passed.  In a tripartite dance, it is difficult to tell “who’s leading who,” and who’s smoking old canvas.

J.

Right Angles Redux

All habit is energy taking its most efficient course.  Why not, then, redouble your efforts at redundancy?

The apparent radical voices that periodically arise, then submerge into Life’s overall scheme, are examples of either its dying, obscure, or brilliant options.  (And damn be the few who can see any light between these three possibilities.)

My uncle-in-law once said, “You know, on the ordinary level, I could’ve been a contender; but I was always too sweaty to stoop that low.”  (I agree; I’m not sure exactly what he meant by that, but it still explains a lot.)

Did you know that at the end of every alphabet is an undiscovered letter; one that is the beginning of a new loop?

In binary math, ordinary consciousness would equal “Not-I divided by I,” while at right angles to this view, another consciousness would equal “Not-I multiplied by I3.”  (Neuralizing would be “I3-attempted.”)

J.

Right Angles

Ordinary consciousness sees life as a strictly horizontal affair, while a full perception requires a view which runs at right angles to obvious and not so obvious.

Even those, whose speech and ideas seem the most irrelevant and ill-founded are transmitters of necessary energies.  (But you should know that already from you own in-house observations.)

All of Man’s laws, arts, customs and sciences arise from Life’s struggle to keep its own internal reactionary muses in proper balance.

How does human consciousness obtain “new knowledge”?  Is it somehow squeezed from a prior nothingness, or does it come from the previously overlooked?  Or, is the discoverer of the “new knowledge” somehow a part of the new discovery?

ASPECT #Z-14 OF EXCESSIVE TALK:

A distractive blurring of the nonexistent distinction between “out there” and “in here.”

J.

The Need to Act

Why does the head feel so assuredly separate? 
Who died and left it in charge anyway?

And furthermore:

Where does the brain get off giving its maladies fancy sounding names, and inferring they are somehow more exotic than ailments of the liver?

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You must abandon engagement with ordinary suffering.  You cannot sustain the minimal level of energy to pursue This while wrestling with “personal problems.”

Another great thing about sex is that you don’t have to talk about it to do it.

If you do not feel the need to act in a given situation, there is no need to act.  But if it is otherwise, nothing but deeds will suffice.

J.

"Problems"

Today’s question:

What are problems?

Answer:

“Problems” is simply a word
reflecting the complexity of change.

Note: The entanglement of my definition has increased even since I wrote this response.

Why would a Man pay a thousand coins for a report telling him how to save five?  Why would a Man pay another to listen to him repeat the lifelong mutterings of his own inner voices?  What manner of deranged duck would enroll in quacking classes?  (If Life’s humor regarding its extremes continues to expand, we will surely soon see courses teaching, “Right Where You Are.”)

All fears of “exploitation” and “one-sided deals” are totally ill-founded, (unless you’re still taking all of this personally).

Do “events” or “commentaries–thereon” come first?  (No need to present this question to the ordinary; after they heard it they would just make some comment.)

Only those of routine sensibilities want to hear what their accusers have to say.  (None of you still believe that critics only reside out-there in New York, or somewhere?)

J.