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

September 30, 2001.
 
 
 
 
 
 

          A WRAP UP OF THE WEEK'S ALWAYS GOOD NEWS
                       _________________________________
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

It is the process that is important --  not its apparent objective,
e.g.: the seeming purpose of religion (to honor a god)
is of no particular pertinence;
it is the gyrations it puts men’s minds through that is its point;
likewise: It does not matter what you complain about  --
--  only that you complain.
With many things that go on in consciousness:
it is the process that is important  --   not its apparent objective.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Those who do not understand that life is alive,
produces and contains within it everything it has had man name,
are always fearful of being overtaken by evil,
when all that can happen is that everyone is
overtaken, undertaken  and sideways taken by life.
If you cannot escape life  --  you cannot escape what is in it --
                       ………….….including yourself.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

To get to the bottom of things a man must reflect much on his many sins;
correction; he must reflect much on his one sin;
final correction; he must reflect once on his single sin
and never forget what it is.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

                            The following are like titles of short stories,
                                     and them all hold common this:
     they each note some aspect of the want & the way to the great realization.
  _________________________________________________________________________________

The lone rebel who could win no one to his cause.
The lone rebel who finally saw that he was the cause.
The ship on the horizon out there which never comes in.
The horizon which is not out there.
The blame with nowhere to lay.
The blame that threw up itself.
The engine which runs on other’s fuel.
The engine which dreams of life without fuel.
The engine which has itself all wrong.
The dark room that is the source of darkness.
The dark room that is lit by the knowledge of dark’s source.
The eye that sees, but not itself.
The eye that is quicker than the eye.
The truck on two roads.
The road with two trucks.
A single truck and a single road get together.
A tree rotten at the roots.
A tree rotten at the top.
A tree whose top was connected to its roots,
   and all the tree farmers gathered round it and said: “Well, gol-aa-lee!”
A land where no trees are rotten  --  only tree farmers with comments.
A city where even the mirrors are critics.
A city where cracked citizens are recognized as its mirrors.
The song without end.
The complaint without end.
The search without end,
                                 and the end that never had a beginning anyway.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Trying to get to the bottom of things
is like trying to dig a well in a spider’s web;
there is no depth there, but you get fooled by there being a surface.
Trying to achieve the great realization
inadvertently makes thought seem more significant than it is.
You cannot self-remember because you (your thoughts)
have no memory of a self (your thought-based “self”):
            memory of experiences  --  yes; of a self  --  no.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

One man says: “There is the almost irresistible impression that when the mind is on auto-run & not under my conscious direction, that it is not me, but is more like an uninvited, ‘THAT.’
and when my mind finally takes note of the situation
the feeling then is that: ‘I must stop THAT.’
but then when it is momentarily interrupted,
the sensation is one of: ‘ I did it  --  I stopped ‘it’ as though
the out-of-control-THAT and the ME that I just said 'stopped THAT'
are two different things going on in my brain.”
What he just described is the natural state of man’s consciousness:
a condition of being: in the dark; asleep-in-a-dream;
captive & without a clue as to what is going on in the light.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Men relentlessly proclaim criticisms and whines in the attempt to
make things seem like they have some importance  --
                      --  that being alive, means something.
Complaining is the sincerest form of seriousness about life.
There is a disease in being normal & civilized:
trying to make yourself think that life has a purpose;
thus people wanting to, do good, and to, save the world,
and otherwise engage in frustration.
Being asleep is thinking that life has some purpose,
or in searching for its purpose;
if you do not know what you are doing:
trying to wake up just makes it worse.
Essential matters require no words: eating, sexing, protecting.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

A major company said:
“The great thing about being a corporation is that
you do not care if people laugh at you as long as they pay you,”
and a government added: “The best thing about being The State is that
you do not care whether people like you or not as long as they obey you,”
and one man’s state-of-mind was about to join the discussion
‘til he gave it such a dirty look! --  would silence a hurricane.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Only they will direct how you should perform your life
who cannot satisfactorily do so their own.
Everyone knows what is wrong with everyone, save their self.
Nothing is wrong with anyone  --
‘cept their concept of something being wrong with others.
(Says one guy: “If life worked out any neater than it does now,
I don’t think I could stand it.” )
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

There is a great difference between you knowing what is going on
and everyone knowing;
if everyone knew  --   nothing would change.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

One guy envies women: “All they have to do to make a man happy
is provide him sex; cook him food, and give him a place to sleep.
Wish I could get my own mind to adopt such an approach to me.”
 
 

Explaining to the participants in any argument over an idea,
what is actually going on,
will always offend  them both  --  and neither understand why.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

One guy offers this comment:
“Reality is constructed of muscles,
and of the thoughts able to give names to such things,
and while muscle cannot lift thoughts,
thoughts apparently can, muscles  --
…….and right there is another rub:
thoughts can do all sorts of things --  APPARENTLY!
while poor old muscles can only do what they can actually do.
             It’s not fair, I tell you  ---  simply, not fair.”
          (“Are you going to Scarborough Equitable?” --  if so:
               have someone there check your eyes.)
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 The biggest misdirection men suffer is in their being led to use
the personal possessive pronoun before words related to
processes of consciousness: “my thoughts; my mind tells me,”
as though each thought is always one you consciously selected from
a willfully compiled cache.
 
 

It may be that when ThisThing is pushed to its extreme
the only ones who can still tolerate it
are those who do not take it all that seriously.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

For reasons not revealed, twice a year one man repeats to himself:
“What you say means nothing  --
 what you do just barely does.............some times.............maybe.”
 
 

                     J