JAN’S DAILY FRESH REAL NEWS
                        © 2001: Jan Cox

                                 HOME,  HOME ON THE STRANGE . . . AND YET,
                                                  NOT-ALL-THAT-CURIOUS
                                                        _____________
 
 
 
 
 

They had set up the rolling ficka mill on the north side of the river 
across from the spring pasture, 
and as the son was managing the remote foot control throttle, 
the father began talking to him:
”No one understands anything  --
and no one cares  --
               -- except those who want to, understand something.
 
 

Except as concerns physical materials, 
which, by having some grasp of their nature, 
man can manipulate to his practical benefit,
no one understands anything.
 
 

From a functional view, men do, understand, 
The Laws of Chemistry & Physics, 
in the sense that by their, theories-cum-workable-understanding
they are able to alter the physical world as they find it to their profit,
but once you leave the realm of, things-you-can-put-your-hands-on,
no one understands anything.”
 
 
 

The elder motioned for the younger to increase the droquke,
then continued:
”This is not speculation, nor criticism, 
but a plain, obvious fact,
but one which ordinary human thinking is not programmed to acknowledge --  and for very good reason  -- 
for to do so would be directly counterproductive -- 
if not literally, destructive TO  –  ordinary-human-thinking.
 

Men --  learned, literate, linguistically talented men
can insist that they, understand some particular subject 
in which they have an interest, and/or expertise;
a man can so insist, and may have others who support his claim;
even be recognized as humanity’s leading authority on the subject,
yet the man’s brain  --  which IS,  the expert;  the understander --
is aware that it does not understand the subject,
for the brain is aware that it invented the subject.”
 
 
 

The father vigorously fractured a fresh strand of kypreus, and
fed it into the machinery, then returned to his comments:
“In the domain of the brain,
wherein it is not only king, but also its entire population,
it has an ability that no human words can describe;
the closest you could say, (which is still universes away), is that:
the brain has the capacity to  --  FOOL ITSELF – 
and even though the idea is acceptable to humans regarding themselves -- when applied to the brain  -- it is ludicrous;
no notion could be more ridiculous;
which is why I say that no arrangement of human words can come anywhere near to describing --  or fathoming --
what the brain is actually doing in its ongoing activity of:
making-something-up --  then --  pretending-it-doesn't-know-that-it-did.
 
 

Look down on a university campus;
at the Arts Departments;
everything they are teaching, debating & talking about there
are subjects which are total fabrications of man’s brain;
and yet, there in a classroom sits a hundred young brains
listening to an older, authoritatively sounding brain
instruct them in a matter that has no tangible existence;
one which the human brain entirely made up  --   and yet,
everyone treats, the subject &  the learning-experience  -- solemnly;
every  brain in that room knows quite well what is going on...and yet,
                                    no one lets on."
 

The father stopped as he looked off at a near by mountain top 
to adjust the azmetic angle of their operations, and once satisfied,
said some more:
“A man who knows how to make ice from water, or a wheel from a tree
does not much react to any criticism someone might make of his effort,
for his talent is right there on display, to be tasted, or used,
but a man, expert in some subject that cannot be handled 
will commonly respond most vigorously  --  if not violently --
to questioning of his competence.
(Better to tell a bricklayer that you’ve seen straighter walls than his, than to tell a psychologist that his explanations of human nature are inane;
the building trades have never had an Inquisition.)
 

But in all  of the Arts,  (which in large measure are what 
distinguishes the uniqueness of man, 
and play an essential role in his full flowering AS,  a Man, 
and thus are not to be seen derisively, nor cavalierly dismissed), 
there is nothing of substance to be grasped, 
nor learned by your brain  -- 
other than the recalling & recognition of the fact 
that they are all total concoctions OF the brain.
Your brain can certainly be, entertained by 
any of them to which it is attracted,
in the same way children are entertained by stories of elves,
but your own brain/mind/thinking/understanding
will never move at all from where it is now until you somehow 
force it, or, trick it, (you might say), into facing the simple fact that 
IT made up everything that it thinks about, 
(all those things which your body cannot sensually experience),
and into acknowledging the clear difference between 
what is mentally entertaining, and that which is something else.
 

That mental, something else, my boy, 
is the very animal that will scare you awake from your neural dreams.
The thoughts that the brain normally furnishes to a man’s consciousness are all of the purely, entertaining variety,
(assuming obviously, that they are not about something tangible, 
like constructing a windmill),
and these, entertaining thoughts, (whatever their apparent subject),
all have one thing in common:
none of these thoughts are about thinking.
Man’s unique, thought-sourced, untouchable-but-all-important -- 
second-reality, (art, religion, social sciences),
only can exist and survive by not being thought about directly,
that is to say: 
that although men appear to study History, Theology, Sociology, etc,
their brains do not motivate them to study the origin of these subjects:  -- human thinking  --   which  would of course, 
ultimately lead to the full exposure of their vacuousness.
 
 

The brain, being the mother of all practicality,
does not engage in self fulfilling, futile activity;
it does not direct hands to build sand castles 
where it knows high tide is due,
and it obviously does not invent tales which it will later denounce as,
mere fiction --  not in routine men does such a thing occur, 
but, my boy  --  has anyone ever accused this family of being, routine?”
and the son said: “No, no one ever has,”
and the father said: “And for very good reason  --  which IS?”
and the lad answered: 
“Which is because no one knows what WE are up to,”
and the elder asked again: “Which is -- BECAUSE?”
and the lad replied: “Which is because we have our own brains so off balance that even THEY aren’t quite sure what we’ve gotten them entangled in,” 
and the old man was so delighted with this response 
that he crammed his hand into the machine, and 
had another finger chopped off, (symbolically speaking).
 

 
                   …what have YOU had cut off lately?

 
                                                J
 
 
 
 
 
 

There is only one thing worth understanding;
there is in fact only one thing that you can, at all   --   understand:
                 
                                  what  the nature of  --  wanting-to-understand  is.