Faith vs. Trust

The problems of man can never be solved, in that they are his ordinary consciousness.

There is faith and there is trust.  Faith is the hopeful ignorance of the ordinary, and is always tied to thought-thinking about your faith, while trust is a non-verbal assurance silently arising from the understanding of those who know.

The secret clue to doing This is not in finding a solution, but in discovering the problem.

There is unknown territory at both ends of the nervous system; the musky dark of the past and the blinding uncertainty of the future; and ordinary; civilized men fear them both.

Understanding is conditionally satisfying, while ordinary knowledge is absolutely disconcerting.

J.

Embracing Illusions

Once a Man Sees, he may then embrace the meaningless illusions of life with all apparent enthusiasm and no visible harm.

Ordinary man accepts his dissatisfaction as being other than it is.  He calls it “emotional and mental problems,” “material difficulties,” etc., when it all arises from the ever-unfinished upper level of his very own nervous system.

No lateral, I-level observations are profitable, since they must fit into predetermined slots, and be subjectively judgmental.

All human activity is unknowingly directed toward affecting completion.

Those who can See, can peer into men’s eyes and view the emptiness and lateral captivity.

J.

Philosophical Poker

I once heard that there is a special place in hell for those who “break things” and I naturally thought it referred to holy laws and commandments, but now I’m not so sure.

At a guru convention, I heard one proudly announce that his followers had just bought him an expensive new stallion.  Then another said that was nothing; his followers, said he, had just presented him with a team of such steeds along with a golden chariot.  Yet another one said, “Hah, my followers just delivered to me a new Rolls Royce.”  I butted into the conversation and mentioned to them that some such men simply walked to work.  Well, boy, did they ever have a laugh over that.  They laughed and laughed.  (I laughed too some later ‘cause I didn’t really know anyone like that.)

Not only is there a Song-Of-Life, but amidst this Great Journey there is the Noise-Of-The-Search.  (And you sometimes wonder at the apparent chaos.)

     Some years back, in a poker game, I took the opportunity to ask Moses exactly what he meant by his term, “The Promised Land,” and he said that because of the prevailing circumstances, you would have really had to have been there to properly understand his intent. 

     A little while later, I caught Buddha’s ear and asked him if his teaching of a state of being “Blown Away” was in any way similar to Moses’ idea of the Promised Land, and he leaned over and told me not to confuse allegory with real estate.  Later, during a lull in the game, I asked Jesus if his teaching of the “Kingdom of God” referred to an internal state, or an actual location.  He paused, smiled at me over his cards and said, “Kings high call.”

     After the game was over, I found Socrates sitting on the curb outside, and I told him of my somewhat unsatisfying conversations with his friends, and he said, “Yeah, I used to try and talk to them like that; they’ve stopped even asking me to their games.”  And I said, “Because of such intellectual inquiry?’  And he said, “Yeah, that and I owe ‘em all money.”

J.

Indigestion

That which can’t be digested should not be eaten, and that which can’t be eaten should not be handled.  And that which shouldn’t be handled, should not be thought of, and no one, no one I say,, can digest the unthinkable.

If your forefathers were correct, and Man is paying off some debt to the gods, have you ever wondered about these unholy interest rates?

Have any of you yet begun to fathom that Man’s concept of love is a continuing attempt to reconcile the conflicting, necessary contamination in the circuitry?

I once met a man who announced that he was going to walk all around the world, avoiding all food until the hungry were fed.  I heard he was making splendid progress just before he starved to death.

I once heard some men talking, and one said, “Sex is so much fun I can’t believe they haven’t outlawed it.”  A local politician also overheard the conversation…and, do I have to tell you the rest?

J.

Crossing the Precarious Bridge

If there appears conflict amongst the Few, what is to be expected with the ordinary?

Ordinary Men are driven to believe in imaginary gods; also to believe in the power of words.  They even refer to their religious books as the “Word of God.”  But just between us, I ask you:  To which circuit are such words addressed?

There is a precarious bridge over which all must pass.  It represents a delicate balance between wanting a something to worship from afar, and the hunger to reach out and take it by the hand.

One late night on the island of Shedapore, I entered a renowned den of iniquity, and in a dark corner, surrounded by drink, drugs, and several comely nymphs, discovered a well known holy man.  I joined him for a bit, partaking in part of the available treats, and commented that such activities certainly couldn’t be condoned, nor tolerated with the public at large.  He smiled and said, “Oh, you’re a priest too.”

The fears you have are nothing but fear of the expected.  They often appear to be fears of the unknown, such as in attempting new actions and apparently dreading unpredictable consequences.  But this is in error for the results will be the expected.  There is a joyful fear far beyond the dull limits of this shaky universe…a place where fear laughs at its own shadow.

J.

The Song of Life

Just as an alcoholic can never be truly cured, the established circuits can’t be rehabilitated. 
The drunk must avoid the drink,
and the Few must eschew the predictable.

There is an unknown Song of Life; it has a rhythm, a melody and words.  Each of the 3 Circuits plays its part in the symbiotic symphony, and the Few bathe in its glory.

A certain man once found himself living with a wild beast which his neighbors said was untameable.  Later they found the man apparently in control of the feral brute, but could not see how he affected his will over the raging creature.  He told them, “Whatever I decide I want it to do, that very thing I do not tell it to do, and voila, my friends, voila!”  And his neighbors laughed and mocked him, saying, “Voila – Hah!”  And previously unseen additional beasts suddenly leapt up and ate the neighbors.

Once you reach a certain place there are two new Rules:

The first one is: 
There are no Rules.

Once a man asked me, “Wouldn’t it be a good idea never to think the same thing twice?”  And I said, “What?”  And he repeated, “Wouldn’t it be a good idea never to think the same thing twice?”  And I laughed, danced, spat and sang; jumped in the ditch and rolled in the weeds.  And he said, “I think I see what you mean.”

J.

The Land of the Hidden

The Land of the Hidden drowns in ideas of the obvious.  (Only the Few learn to inhale the waves.)

The valuable is not disturbed by a closer look;
only the ordinary fears scrutiny.

To know and then not DO produces but a new form of imagination, (and quite ordinary fools dream of themselves as wise men of action).

If worry can make the ordinary lose weight, I tremble to ponder the consequences of happiness, should it ever get loose.

The Few do not evolve to some set pattern; they are not only the road, but the destination as well.

J.

Questions for the F.F.F.

To make The Journey, you must become a peculiar witness to your own existence.

The Few see the necessary incompletion of everything.  It is always a matter of, “Yes, I couldn’t agree with you more, BUT…”

The ordinary want dead heroes and inaccessible ideas, not living dangers.

Man is not somehow at odds with Nature; he is but playing out his native part with the Great Living Machine, even while tongues swear they are in deadly conflict.

I have two new questions for the F.F.F. (the Fearless, Foolish Few):

Is consciousness worth the bother?  And
Do dead people attract bullets?

J.

A Common Language

The Few must have a common language, and not one limited to words.  It must first be the Remembrance of their shared, secret Aim.

Certain ideas can, of themselves, have power, but only those which do not support sleep and encourage suffering.

It is not so much a question of “One Big Flash,” but of continual small ones.

“I” at-the-center-of-things
will forever remain unknown.

(The tyrant-with-no-name.)

On the ordinary level, nothing too drastic can be true and acceptable. (But for the Few, only that which is too drastic is at all sufficient.)

J.

The Swimming Pool

A true sense of Duty can lead one closer to Real Emotions; that is, those emotions not supportive of the mechanical status quo.

This Activity can never be known through the written word; like the scribe who had to accompany all of his communiqués and read them aloud because of his illegible handwriting, This must always be presented by its author.

It is as though all of humanity is trapped in a swimming pool, people pushing, shoving, grabbing, then releasing, attempting to somehow stay afloat and oriented.  A Group secretly separates from the mass and learns to objectively support one another as they learn to swim and navigate.  Bearing no weight and causing no distraction to one another, as they struggle to leave the pool and enter the ocean before death.

The Alert cannot join in celebrations-of-failure.

The only proper maps for the Few are ones that continually expand to greet new experience.

J.

Fake Hugs

Fake hugs cure only fake loneliness. 

(The Alert might care for the “advanced version”:

Fake fucks cure only fake horniness.

I think what the ordinary world now needs is a $495.00 mail order course in “How To Not Get Taken.”

A real form of living-meditation would be in releasing the mental barriers to direct experience.

Unexpected difficulties must be established to pursue This Thing.  What appears to be the existing problems of life are inadequate in that life has already constructed you in such a way as to be able to mechanically deal with them…most inadequate.

To be identified is to consent.  Pay Caesar’s taxman with agreement – not consent.

J.

The Re-Thinking

The Alert should not refer to the constant electrical activity at the upper end of the nervous system as, “I think,” but rather call it, “the re-thinking.”

Ordinary men are forced to steadfastly embrace themselves, their I-image, while the Alert must embrace only Life.

Feeding the ordinary intellect is like feeding a tiger; no matter what goes in, it soon becomes just more tiger.

Just the opposite of what the ordinary believe:

To be a Real Mystic would be to See clearly and distinctly, not in vague visions and distorted nightmares.

The Ultimate Foolishness:

The ultimate puzzle with the solution on the next page.

J.

Tomorrow Has Left The Station

I am not here to turn you into a particular something, a Christian, a Jew or Buddhist, for to do so would stop your journey, and prove your death.

While ordinary life is involved in a gradual, mechanical growth, the Work is an abrupt break with lower level, life-produced regions, and relatively independent of the old growth.

Once a man begins to See, he must be prepared to objectively embrace the ordinary appearances of life, or else begin working for This as though tomorrow had already left the station.

The ordinary cannot forgive the ordinary; hence, men must look to gods and the dead for imagined relief.  (The Alert might also note that man’s nervous-system-I cannot and need not be forgiven for being what it is.)

The notion to, “Render unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s,” is in part the lesson of apparently agreeing with ordinary life’s passing necessities.  That is, to give up silly struggles, square up useless debts and pay off the taxman-of-life.

J.

The Great Power Co. in the Sky

In a certain sense, everything eventually resolves itself; forces rearrange and consume one another and the Alert soon learn this and do not remain passive, affixed to the passing parade of imaginary problems and illusionery outcomes.  There is simply no ultimate finality to the moves and turns of the processes of objective reality.

There is a certain danger to which everyone should be alert, and that is:  the illusionery stability of words…Ah, I don’t guess I should pick on words, they’re as stable everything else.

Some ordinary men are wont to say that one particular occurrence is a sure sign of something else.  It’s not just that they’re wrong, just limited in their perception.  The whole story is that everything is a sign of everything else. 

Are you aware of the fact that the Great Power Company in the Sky charges the same rate for a thousand watt bulb as they do for a ten watt?

I once offered to help a man and he said, “What if it’s a trick?”  And I said, “Forget it,” and left.  Sometime later I offered to help another man and he said, “What if it turns out I don’t like your help?”  And I said, “Forget it,” and left.  Some years later a man approached me and asked for my help and I said, “What if this is a trick, and I give you my help and then you don’t like it?”  And he said, “You know, this is all real confusing, or else justice is back loose on the world.  No wonder nothing ever gets done.”

I can’t help but notice that some of the things I write for you people cause laughter at times, in some.  And in some, at times it seems to cause a kind of fear.  Wait, I’ve got it:  Why don’t the fearful laugh at the laughter and the laughing be fearful of the fear?  No, let the fearful fear the laughter, and the laughing be fearful of the laughter…no, let the laughing fearful be mindful of…ah, to hell with it.  Ha, ha, ha.

J.

Locating Higher Consciousness

The higher consciousness of the Few is a consciousness in no certain time and in no particular place.

The sleeping-death of ordinary life can only affix itself to known individuals…tell me again, what did you say your name was? 

Things can only see other things as things also.  (I wonder what difficulty systems would have in seeing other systems as they are.)

I once heard a mortal say that he so dearly loved something that he destroyed it.  You know, that gave me the blues for nearly three hundred years.

J.

Two Watches

Within the secret, tri-anary dance, the Creative Force never criticizes the others, only devours them.  Thus, when you are critical you are in the arms of a most dangerous partner.

There is a certain unrecognized danger that the Alert must avoid:

It is in believing that that which appears to be happening to humanity is happening to you personally.  (May I be so bold as to suggest that Seeing this correctly is, to say the least, a great relief.)

When a man carries two watches, he never knows the correct time.  And a man with two masters is never sure of his duties.  (Could this have any pertinence to maps?)

The speech of ordinary men is but the noise of life finding an aural outlet.  (Only those with no need to speak are worthy of hearing.)

The examination of a phenomenon changes it.  This can even be proven to an ordinary man, as long, of course, as it doesn’t apply to him.

J.

Real Change

Ordinary man’s acceptance of, “Love being a hurting thing,” would, to the keen-of-eye, be further proof of his destiny to suffer, in that this “love,” which he proclaims to be his highest personal and spiritual aspiration, is itself a constant source of discomfort and tension.

Ordinary, nervous-system-man has been made to take his own physical existence as of extreme importance in the general scheme of life on this level.  The belief in the sanctity and holiness of human life is a necessary background for Life’s continued expansion and growth.  This belief is also tied to him accepting himself as a “thing,” an identifiable, individual personality, distant somehow from the apparently personality-less remainder of creation.

Those who believe Life amiss
are themselves amiss.

Nothing in ordinary life is permitted to be totally satisfying; for if it were, it would be deadly.

The Real Change of This Thing has no connection with the individual’s particular time and place, although he must untangle himself from such to approach Real Change.

J.

Being of the Many...

Being of the Many is in looking at life as others do. 

Being of the Many is in living your life as though things are as others say they are.

Being of the Many is in conceiving of life in divisible pieces and separate occurrences, while

Being of the Few is in Seeing Life as it is:  An unending, undivided, omni-taneous process.

That which falls, arises;
that which leaves, returns.

Only form has yet been seen
by the Few.

Only the Few know “I” as a verb, not a noun.

To be properly “hit” one must be blind-sided.  (And part of the profit of such an unexpected attack is in being made to see that one has a blind-side.)

One suitable, picture-definition of ordinary man is in him buying caged birds from a priest so as to release them for assumed spiritual reward.

J.

Appearances are not Deceiving

The maps-of-words are employed to convey certain ideas, but once the ideas are understood the words may be abandoned.

Ordinary consciousness is no more than the unprofitable, induced attempt to grasp the processes of reality and hold them to be solid, consistent forms.

There are two Ignorances:  The Smaller and the Greater.

The Smaller is in believing you know what manner of thing you are,
while the Greater is in believing you are a thing.

Each mans’ ordinary “I” is but the mechanical termination of the nervous system circuitry…what a shocking thing to consider.

Appearances are not deceiving,
Appearances are just appearances.

J.

FALL through the Mirror

I once met a man whose name was, “The Liberating Silence at The Heart of Things.”  At least I think that was his name…for to tell you the truth, he never would speak to me.

There was once a group of people who lived in the woods near a certain village, and all of the town folk came to believe that the forest dwellers were involved in some type of unusual, directed activity.  And the town’s people always fretted over the fact that the activity had no name, and they pestered the elder member of the woods-group until he promised to give his enterprise a proper name.  And sure enough, a large sign was hung over the main path into the woods; the activity has its name.  And the sign read, “Jump In The Ditch And Bang On The Floor.”  You know, you don’t hear much about that group anymore.

I once met a man whose name was Uddlemyer Rumpwart, and he looked so unhappy, I asked him why he didn’t change his name and he said, “Why don’t you go to hell.”  And you know, it all fits, and makes a lot of sense; it all, by god, makes a lot of sense.

There was once a group which reputedly had strange, secret rites.  They periodically presented public programs that contained certain visible rituals, but even the public was not allowed to participate.  The head of the group told me that he couldn’t allow the unprepared to engage in the rites, least they fall through the other side of the mirror.

J.