LOOK OUT BOYS, THEY'S COMIN' IN LOW!
                            _________________
 
 
 

There was a man who had a plane that would 
fly on auto pilot; 
not only cruise once air borne,
but one which could at times,
even take off and land automatically,
and in fact execute, reasonably well, 
some complex aerobatic maneuvers.
 

The feature had another talent:
on its own it could often handle complicated
craft-to-ground verbal communications,
and when not so involved with serious responsibilities,
it would pipe entertainment into the cockpit,
(of the talk radio, and muzak variety.)
 

All in all, the auto pilot was an exceptionally valuable aid in the man’s operation of his plane --  and yet  --
spasmodically he was greatly annoyed by it.
When he mentioned this to other pilots none of them admitted to similar feelings --  in fact,
most had become so accustomed-to, and reliant-on the auto pilot they had forgotten that it even existed, and now treated its talents as being their own.
 

The man concluded that he was alone in his intermittent irritation with the auto pilot’s presence in his life, and that any method to change the situation would have to originate with him.
 

He knew that he could perform all of the 
auto pilot’s functions, 
except for its constant monitoring, and fine tuning of the plane’s engine, (the one area of its operations 
that never bothered him),
so, (save for the latter), he decided that he would assume all other responsibility for the craft’s flight -- 
--  but  --   arose there, a teensy little problem:
he couldn’t the hell remember to take over for the damn automatic thing-a-ma-giggy.
Oh, he’d remember his decision to do so --  spasmodically
with, (interestingly enough), the exact same frequency
that he was annoyed by it to begin with.
 

So now he had doubled his irritation:
he still had his original one with certain aspects of the auto pilot’s presence in his life, 
now combined with the new irritation he experienced every time he realized that he had not taken over for it 
as per his decision to do so.

   (P.s. he finally did run across some other fliers with similar feelings about the auto pilot, 
and they would get together in the bar at the air field, 
and whine, and bitch about it over beers,
[they eventually referred to this as their, 
“Struggle to awaken.”]) 
 
 
 

                                           *
 
 

Every man has a companion, 
and getting him pacified is what awakening is all about,
and the way you accomplish that is by finally realizing that the companion is an illusion.......well, 
                                 you or him one is. 
 
 
 
 
 

                   First you see two; then three; then one  --
                                  --  then it’s all done.
 
 
 
 
 

You only dislike being asleep at the moments when 
                                          you catch yourself being so. 
 
 
 
 
 
 

The fact that the mind is even able to ask:
“Who's in charge here?” 
is proof that it isn’t  --  and KNOWS it.
 

......now all we need is for you to.
 

                                        J
 
 

Once men decided to make clocks run in a clockwise direction,
so as to match the term bearing their name,
everything after that was easy.