Anything the Mind can Say

Once, while on a visit to a far side of the universe, I overheard one star tell another, “You’re certainly on the red side of the spectrum considering your size.”  And the other one replied, “Yes, but whoever expected silver futures to plummet so near the end of the year.”  Don’t look at me – I didn’t understand it either.

Can you begin to realize, just a little by now, that anything the mind can say is “somehow true”? Can you begin to realize, at first, the danger in this, and later the joyful relief?  Anything the mind can say is “somehow true.”

There was once a man who thought, “If only I had a million dollars, I just know I’d be a more popular and completed person.”  Well, can you believe it; one day his dream was granted and it turned out that he was partially right.  But some years later, it-struck-him and he thought:  “You know, partially just won’t get it.”

An ordinary man will pursue activities that he believes will make him a “better person,” while the Few undertake a struggle that may simply make them a person.

The struggle to evolve eventually becomes, “You against the world,” but not from some imagined anger, but from a positive hunger.

J.

Squirrel Logic

Part of what alcohol and drugs do for ordinary man is to open up the possibility of doing the unexpected.  A cheap imitation, I’d say, of certain hobbies of the Few.

The true power of habit is just that, the power of habit.

I once heard a squirrel offer this prayer to the tree gods:
”Guard me from intrigue;
 save me from suggestion;
deliver me from anger…
the rest I can do for myself.” 
After pondering this for several thousand years, I must admit I’m still amazed.

A strolling man can spy an ant and change his direction while thinking, “I will not step on this smaller, helpless creature.”  But no such decision or compassion is forthcoming from our friends Mr. Earthquake and Ms. Tidal Wave.

Yeah, I know…but still you’d best be reminded:

The name of a thing is not its name, but only what its name is called.

J.

An Unexpected Black Hole

Man loves to dream of gods, secret societies and cosmic fates, since only the Few can bear the glare of direct reality.

Those-who-know do not lead groups of mere seekers, for the path and destination is here.  They do not herd bands of religious idiots, for their dream of salvation is the reality of their destruction.  And they do not instruct routine fools in intellectual speculation, for the Secret is known.

There is nothing wrong with the ordinary life…assuming, of course, that you’re ordinary.

This can be called many fine things, but it can also be seen as an unexpected black-hole in the evolutionary fabric of predictability, and a hole into which only a few care to fly.

Real maps have always been relatively secret in their time, since all things, including maps, have a lifespan, and a wide-spread usage of the maps would only increase the rate of their decay.

J.

Post Holiday - Disorderly Delights

Once it is properly seen, disorderly delights for the delightfully disorderly. 

What is it that I offer but Life alive, Life alive.  And the curtain rises on the downfall of the foolish.

And what is This Thing within the music of the spheres?  Do we go from the intricate practice of the symphonies to the continuing improvisation of the improbable?

Can you still remember the childhood dream of becoming intelligent, the naïve expectation of becoming real?  If so, you are a special piece of Life’s-Unfinished-Business…Welcome home.

The war against conformity continues, but the enemy often times remains unknown.

J.

The Flower of All Colors - Holiday Edition

Forever has Man longed to name his unknown future, and from such desire have arisen the various names for his gods.  But there are descriptions not usually heard, some of which I now relate to you:

My eyes and hunger lift up to that which is:

The tree of all fruit,

The flower of all colors,

The fields of all harvests,

The passionately unaffected.

That which must not be forgotten,

That which is all unto itself,

That which longs for discovery,

The warm rays of tomorrow’s sun.

The song of all melodies,

The dance of all rhythms,

The verse of all rhymes,

The prayer of all understandings.

That which I find in solitude,

The one I recognize in all crowds,

The store of all secrets,

That which is my mother, my father, my lover, my friend.

The sea of all faces,

The cry of all tongues,

The dreams of all sleepers,

The dawn of all travelers.

The builder of all joy,

The destroyer of all sorrow,

The sustainer of all hope,

The great cause beyond all effect.

It is:

That which I know, but cannot say,

That which I see, but cannot describe,

That which I feel, but dare not disturb,

That beyond all conditions,

The source of all distinctions,

The destroyer of all differences,

It is I – fully realized.

J.

That Certain Step

In the correct usage of rituals and ceremonies, the emotions find speech and discover movement.

Is it barely possible that a more evolved man would simply “do things” and not do things “because”?

If you only strive to work on the present mind with the mind, how can you escape immense confusion?

It has been said that a man’s state is not truly developed unless it is natural, and not the result of some extrinsic discipline.  But if this is so, what to do when this “natural” state is out of town?

I once met a man who swore he was “truly religious.”  He said he was aware of the many philosophical arguments against such, and that he was familiar with logical disproofs.  But he said, “No matter; religious as I am, and religious I shall always be.”  I expressed my interest in such an attitude and belief and invited him to sit with me and persuasively explain the basis for deep convictions.  He screwed up his face, looked at his watch, and said, “Ah, to hell with it!”

That Certain Step is never taken without a particular taste of madness.

J.

The Endless Lesson

What usually passes for intelligence is simply what the ordinary have so labeled. Within a certain invisible kingdom, however, faulty wiring is not recognized as art.

Ordinary men fear that the future may be cancelled, while the Few expressly attempt to extinguish the past.

Might you sleep while awake? 
Could you bear to do otherwise? 
Can you understand the question?

Routine life is a prison and the Few seek escape–not penal reform.

To see, to see Life not simply as some blind, unthinking machine, but as a delightful, infinitely full and complex living structure that the Few can study and enjoy from a multitude of pleasant viewpoints.  The Endless Lesson, The Infinite Experience.

J.

A Certain Discontent

I once heard a story:

There was a man who had been discoursing with a group of listeners about a thing he called, “The Mighty Battle,” and one day he called them all together and said, “I need to confess.  All this time I have lied to you.  I simply read about “The Mighty Battle” in a book.  I don’t have any more idea what it is about than you do.  I’ve made up everything I’ve told you.  I’m a liar and a fraud.  Everything I’ve done has been a waste.”  Well, there was crying and screaming; people looking blank and confused.  It was total shock and dismay as they all stumbled and ran away; all except for one man who just continued to sit there.  The sham-teacher screamed at him, “Didn’t you hear me?  Didn’t you hear what I said?  Run, get away from here.”  And the fellow said, “Never mind all that shit; it’s too late.  I almost understand it all.”

Once, after many years of tiring effort and fortuitous fate, a man found himself “Enlightened” and in the presence of the G.S.S.I.C.O.S.T., (The Great Secret Spirit In Charge Of Such Things).  The man just stood there for days and hours, smiling and grinning, and marveling at the whole affair.  Finally his voice arrived, he laughed aloud, then said, “Woo-o-o-o, wow-w-w-w, ah-h-h-h; Great Spirit I can’t wait to go back and tell all my friends about it, and help them gain this understanding.”  And the Spirit said, “Good luck.”

A wandering swami once came by and proclaimed that the secret of Enlightenment was to stand on one leg forever and ever.  A group of listeners decided he was crazy, and they were right.  Another swami came to visit and taught that Enlightenment would result if only men would rhythmically beat on their temples with large pieces of broken pottery.  The group went off and discussed the matter and decided that the law of averages was bound to catch up with them, and began breaking up plates and pitchers to get on with the job at hand.

All Hail!  Greetings, oh great men of earth.  Is it not pleasant to learn that all ideas of change are far, far away; while the possibility of nothing is always right at hand.

There can be no possibility of “self-improvement” without a self.  Only those tied to an imaginary-self know this.

In the life-of-Life, into which man is born, there is yet another something, a verbal map of which I shall roughly sketch for the Consideration of the Serious.  This something has to do with the general state of ordinary man, and also offers another possible threshold toward the idea of a true, positively-held emotion.  This something is a Certain Discontent, a discontent with no name.  Although it has no ordinary name, this Certain Discontent is known to all men by its relentless flow and presence, and its unknown manifestations are in truth, the known manifestations of all human activity.  A discontent, a Certain Discontent.

J.

Enriched Simplicity

Consider the simplicity of the primitive man, and the enriched simplicity of the Evolved.

Once, in jest, I told a man that being more evolved would be hearing an accordionist play “Lady of Spain” without despising the player.  But thinking back, I’m not so sure that was a joke.

In case I ever decide to write a series of books to “explain everything,” I’ve already got the titles.  My four volume set would read:

Vo1. I:    All Aboard:  The Steam Is Up.

Vol. II:   On The Way:  An Allegorical Departure.

Vol. III:  Full Speed Ahead:  Where To Now?

Vol. IV:  Home At Last:  Where Are The Damn Brakes On This Thing.

(These books would, of course, carry the endorsement of the BACP:  The British Association of Chiropractic Psychiatrists.)

Within the life-of-Life, the mass of humanity is as its own organism, moving and expanding at its own speed.  There are two rates to this speed:  The actual rate and the prophecy rate, which is talk, theory, and impractical-ideas-for-the-time.  Both are of consequence and both exist, but without the former soon following the latter, they are not recognized.

Some mortal poet has said that man is conceived in pleasure, and delivered in pain.  Now if this were twisted around enough you could probably learn something.

What is it that I mean behind the words, “personality” and “imagination”?  What is the blinding fog that engulfs man and keeps his eyes cloudy?  What is this thing that seems to stand between man and reality?  Ahhh, the impure likeness of one’s self.

J.

The Great Law of Chaos

I’ve decided to try my hand at mystical rhyme:

Red sky in the morning,

Blue sky at night,

Green sun at dawn,

Pink moon at dusk,

Sufi take warning,

Yogi take flight,

Swami’s gone wrong,

Who can you trust,

That which is Caesar’s meets that which is god’s,

Film at eleven.

There was once a hermit who somehow had gained the reputation of being wise and enlightened.  One day a messenger came to him with an invitation for the recluse to be a featured guest at a well known annual gathering of religious leaders, Yogis, gurus and famous swamis.  The old man told the messenger, “Tell ‘em all to go to hell.  If I wanted to associate with trash and maggots I’d go sit in a room by myself.”

I know that often time my speech seems vague and obtuse, but let me mention to you one specific absolute, The Great Law of Chaos:  the rule of random certainty.

It matters not what a sincere man may temporarily believe, say, or teach as the truth, so long as his extraordinary Aim remains firm and constant.

A Subjective Man wants to see what he wants to see, while an Objective Man wants to see what is to be seen.

J.

The Struggle to Evolve

What is the final insult?  Hearing a priest’s words translated into a foreign language.

What is the first insult?  Hearing him speak in his native tongue.

The Struggle to Evolve is the only quality form of human labor.

Could men accept the possibility that more evolved states might not be concerned with “seeing things never before seen by man,” but might be simply seeing whatever one couldn’t see now.

Once two boys, who were friends, were out in the fields, and far up on a distant hill spied a giant white stallion, who pranced on its hind feet, flashed fire from its eyes, and filled the air with trembling sounds, before disappearing.  Once home, the first boy tried to tell everyone about the white horse, but no one could find it and they scorned him.  The other boy learned a lesson and never mentioned the horse to anyone.

I have heard it said that man’s religious leaders pray on their knees, but it seems to me that they prey on almost everything…their neighbors, their enemies, hopes, fears…

J.

Embrace the Temporary

Only two types of men look deeply into mirrors: the fearful and those without fear.  Or is it the uncertain and the indifferent?

It is only when you truly know a place, that you can truly say goodbye.

Some may say that This activity is useless, while others say it is simply illusionary.  The truth, however, lies somewhere in between.

One may attempt to study the matter of talent and interest by moving backwards to strip away the layers of acquired imagination.  You turn your investigation in the rearward direction so as to gradually move through the crusts of imagination that have grown up around the original sight, and locate the original seeds of real talent and interest.  (This will not, however, work with politicians and priests.  If you move such an inquiry back far enough in their case, you fall off a meaningless edge; for they have no original talent or interest.)

Remembering is the struggle against the ephemeral.

Understanding is the embrace of the temporary.

J.

Your Worst Fears Realized

What is it that you expect from an activity such as This?  I can say that all of your worst fears will ultimately be realized.  But what you don’t now understand is that these worst fears are not dread at all, but your salvation.

How is it that the Few attempt this miraculous journey into another living time, in the midst of the ordinary world where no one else is even aware of what is taking place?  (And you sometimes think This is not mysterious enough.)

Do any of you begin to slightly see and feel the necessity for group effort in This activity?  Can you begin to glimpse the need for a kind of unknown companionship, a friendship not based on ordinary factors of one reactionary system fueling deficiencies of another; not of one illusionary-I stepping on another, but of objectively sharing the physical reality of this extraordinary food, so that its nourishment reaches the farthest corners of the Group body.  Can you also begin to understand why I cannot deal with individual I’s and the expense of either overstuffing, or starving, the ultimate purpose of This activity?

A few years back, while walking along in Western Belgium, a young man pressed a handbill on me that read, “Love, love is the answer.”  I went back to where he stood and asked him, “Then what is the question, and he said, “Beat it.”  (Maybe I should stay out of Europe.)

One summer while on the Greek Isle of Mitoma, I sat in an open air academy, joined by a collection of local scientists and philosophers who were passionately discussing the concept of “the real” as opposed to the “imaginary” and its impact on the life of Man.  The heart of the discussion was centered on the premise that humanity was far too influenced by false, illusionary ideas, and imaginary concepts far removed from their fields of scientific study and analytic scrutiny.  They seemed all convinced of a basic “reality,” which alone would serve the ultimate needs of rational Man.  A mathematician arose and decried, “For instance, my colleagues, in my field we have the supreme proof of a basic, concrete reality – there is nothing less than zero.”  As they ponder this, I asked him about negative factors, and he surveyed me with some disdain, but replied, “Those we use merely as a practical necessity; they really do not exist, they are imaginary numbers.”  And I said, “Well…” and he said, “Well?”

In North America, I once entered a small bookstore, and in the rear found three young men reading through some printed collections of my words.  I pretended to be examining a book while listening to their conversation.  The first man said, “The writer of these daily news items is surely an extraordinary creature.  He is about the very thing that we used to dream of.”  And the second man looked up rather curiously and said, “I’m not so sure.  At best, he seems to be somehow playing out for us in words the folly and misdirection of ordinary man.”  And the third one slammed his book shut and declared, “He’s crazy.”  I left just before the fight broke out but it’s good to know that some things never change.

J.

Thursday's Travel Tales

Late last century I was seated in a sidewalk café in Turkey, when a man at the next table suddenly began to mumble and shake the newspaper in his hands.  I went back to watching the people parade, but the mumbling and noise grew louder.  The man leapt to his feet and began to tear the paper intro shreds while screaming out that all of the reporters and editors were liars and fools.  Smoke began pouring from his ears, as he hurled the shreds to the pavement, and began jumping up and down on them screaming that you couldn’t believe anything printed in these lying newspapers.  After a bit, when he had calmed down, I asked him why he read the papers if he has such an attitude and he replied, “Well, you must stay informed.”

Recently a lad engaged me in talk and disclosed that, based upon his extensive research of all religious, mystical and occult studies, he had decided that all of the famous spiritual figures of history were not super human messengers from the gods, but were beings from other cosmic worlds.  He wanted to know if I agreed.  I pointed out that it was a shame his education seemed lacking in the physical sciences so that he might consider the interchangeability of time and location.

If, as you humans say, a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, what would be its aroma if “smell” were spelled s-o-u-n-d?

Some years back, I stayed for a while in a village where the people showed an unusual ability to hear of ideas extraordinaire, which I periodically presented to them.  After several months of such conversations, a large group of them came to my hut and announced that they intended to replace their king-priest with yours truly.  I declined their offer and left the village that afternoon.  After my departure, their leader learned of their attempted plan, and with his personal warriors, came after me.  The morning of the following day, they caught up with me as I strolled along, and the king-priest, who had previously displayed only kindness, leapt from his steed and demanded to hear what I had to say about his village’s attempted coup.  I pointed out to him I had declined their offer and left.  All grew silent as his warriors turned to gauge his response.  He scratched his back with his sword and moved dirt around with his foot and said, “Well, I still don’t like it.”

A mortal with whom I periodically met one day, approach me in a most forlorn condition and said he dearly need to talk to me.  He commenced to relate an endless stream of  hard-luck tales about how no one liked him; how everything he attempted came to naught, and how deeply difficult it was just to keep putting one food in front of the other each day.  During a pause, I told him, “Hell, look on the bright side, you might die tomorrow.”  He then said, “It’s always a relief to speak with you.”

J.

What Forces Rule the Universe?

Is part of Man’s so-called progress to go from vague anxieties to definite fears?

The church used to say, “Give us a child for his first ten years, and he will be ours forever.” 

Life does this also.

The Few must feel and exercise total control over unknown phenomena, or at least banish them to either:  The O.N.K.I File:  Of No Know Importance or, The L.F.Y. File:  Later for You or, The B.D. File:  Bad Dreams.  (There are other categories for those of a more religious background, but I’m on a profanity diet.)

On one of my numerous travels on earth, I once stopped for a while in a village of hard working souls whose would-be religious life was somewhat of a microcosm of humanity’s in general.  Sensing some potential in the mortals, I tried to show them that their ideas of a better spiritual state were all based on the assumption that Man had lost something in the past, and that

so-called religious efforts were an unusable attempt to go backwards, not forward.  Well, they had a fine ole time laughing and ridiculing this notion, and insisted that everyone knew help and salvation lay in the holy past.  I decided to try and offer them physical proof.  I produced an old Laundromat washing machine, talked six of the elders into climbing in, stuck a coin and sent them back to the days before Adam.  (And the result?)  After five furious minutes of tumbling, kicking and screaming, “Whee-e-e,” a voice from within cried out, “Stick in another quarter.”

A young lad once asked me, “Pray kind sir, what kinds of forces rule the universe?”  And I asked him what kinds he thought did, and he said, “I don’t know,” and I said, “There’s you answer.”

J.

The Neverending Flows

I once discovered two would-be evolutionary groups in the jungles near Growtalov.  The first group studied apparent maps and imagined what it might be like to make such a journey and visit the secret kingdom.  The second group took a more curious approach:  they began to “build a castle” at their present site to make the far-away land exist there.

If a Man could just glimpse the neverending flows, and interactions of energy, he could suspect how the tongue speaks without a script.

Once, while passing through a small village, after much urging on the part of the spiritual elders, I addressed the people on matters generally related to the arcane.  After my little talk, one of the elders took me aside and said, “I know you weren’t aware of it, but several times during your talk you used profanity.”  And I replied, “The hell you say.”  But he insisted that due to my fatigue, or from some unconscious drive, I had indeed, interspersed my spiritual words with quite profane terms.  Seeking to extract myself from further entanglements in this folly, I did agree that it was possible I had unknowingly let such words accidentally slip from my lips.  I apologized and left.  (That’s exactly why I don’t like to normally fuck with these bat-eyed bastards.)

You must see that no matter your fine daydreams and splendid plans, there is a “something else” that ultimately fuels, or withholds, the power of locomotion.

I once wandered into a lecture wherein the professor was unrolling a bombastic, grandiose commentary on the little creatures, interlaced with such pronouncements, “As is an undisputed fact in the field amongst all spiders, the bite of the tarantula is the most deadly.”  Afterwards I approached the grandmaster and asked him exactly, “How does something become a fact?”  He peered over his glasses at me with a surly expression and said, “I believe there has been some mistake here; the attendees were assumed to be only those interested in insects.”  Not being able to locate my magnifying glass, I could not continue the conversation.

J.

Neural Overload

I once met a cutesy, little human couple who swore theirs was the love-of-loves.  She waited tables while studying ballet and he laid bricks and played his music in weekend bars.  They claimed they were just “ordinary folks” except for their unequaled, uncontrollable, undying love.  They said they didn’t have much, but they had each other and this forever, spiritual, extraordinary love.  And yet they seemed rather ordinary.  (But, I guess I had no real reason to doubt them; she did have the bruises to prove it.)

You can only be impressed with ordinary Men so long as you do not know your own condition.

The ordinary often speak of a certain “inherent contradictions” in a situation or idea, when it is simply that they are blind to some of the various forces and interactions at work.

The Few must make that which is presently too drastic become gradually believable via neural overload.

I once was trapped into conversation with a so-called, holy man who did not seem especially pleased with my pedestrian and noncommittal responses to his bombastic ravings.  Following one such exchange, he stopped the dialogue and informed me, “If you, sir, had been better trained in religious affairs you would not have referred to this matter in those crude terms.”  And I said, “Well, I wasn’t, and I did.”

J.

No Perfect Machine

All machines, systems and processes must have a built-in degree of suitable tolerance; a little looseness and room for slight movement of the individual parts.  If the mechanics of any living structure fit too closely, it could not move and grow.  Thus, you should understand that from this viewpoint, there can be no “perfect machine,” but always a matter of limited variations within known structures.

As long as you obey the desire to identify yourself with some group of humanity, you heed the call to rest and die.

The worldwide cry for “more education” is but a mechanical reflection of Man’s destiny to extend the upper levels of the nervous system.

As understanding increases, you begin to see Man as a never ceasing growth process, and your duty becomes to halt all criticism of life-in-action.

The ordinary nervous system consciousness of Man can study its lower operations, but the apparent “I” cannot so study itself.  One’s development must rise above this mechanical level so that the I-functions can then be seen and studied as a lower operation.

J.

To See and to Know

To see and to know is to have no fear, for only the unknown and its imagined future can produce such fear.  To truly grow is to have no past and hence no basis for a fearful, imaginary future.

Ordinary people are want to say that “Man creates his future,” when it is just the reverse.

When an electrical system is reversed, it will suddenly and temporarily shut down.  Is there finally something that the alert might learn from electricians?

Who amongst you can begin to see “I” as a sustaining Force for the continuation of Life’s unfinished business?

Amidst the confusion and frustration of ordinary life, what is it that the Alert Few seek other than accelerated excitement and dissatisfaction.  (And some still wonder from whence the geniuses of tomorrow will come.)

The ordinary cannot see that they relive their lives over and over, hour by hour, minute by minute, without something extrinsic and astounding by which to compare and study it.

J.

At Eye-Level

Ordinary Men must stay identified so as to properly hold an isolated sense-of-self apart from the greater process.

If I should take a rigidly identified priest, get him drunk, and help him solicit a whore, which might be of profit:  to denounce him as an insult to the church and his robes, or to let him go with no comment?  We’re not back to talking about those personal internal matters again–are we?

At eye-level it’s all just a flaming, furious merry-go-round.  (And I did so want to ride the roller coaster.)

The normal nervous system is a part of an all-encompassing magnetic field, attracting and being attracted to other such fields.  Being ordinary appears as a passing state of either being positively or negatively attracted.  Being extraordinary is in struggling for a neutral, non-magnetic condition whereby the flowing current is under your control.

From a certain view, This could be called the attempted, blasphemous interference…and interference it is.  But, one must also know where interference is profitable and tolerable.  For I’m sure you all remember that a stopped process is a dead process.  (Someone over here just asked me if this is cause for joy or fright.)

Story for a Friday:

I once met a man near Butoka who appeared most sad and disheartened.  He engaged me in conversation, and began to inquire of me the meaning and nature of human existence.  I then told him of my many other such episodes with mortals and how it always seemed to end unprofitably.  Sensing my disinclination to proceed with him further, he stood, raised himself to his full height and said, “Well, fuck you.”  Seizing the unique moment, and relying on my extensive background in human philosophy and religious thought, I immediately replied, “Well, fuck you too.”  He stared at me intently while stroking his beard and said, “I believe I understand.”  And looking back on it, you know, maybe he did…and then again, maybe not.”

J.