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

October 28, 2001.
 
 
 

     SURVEY OF THE WEEK'S FRESH NEWS
              ____________________
 
 
 
 
 

Primary consciousness is constructed to stand still in one spot
and focus on one thing at a time --  your survival;
there is that other-consciousness (don't forget)
which has no one spot on which to stand,
which has no conception of being still or not being still,
and which lacks any need or desire to focus.
The first consciousness is your life support;
the other  --  your friend.
(In that grand adventure of the few  --  friends are scarce,
best court the one that is always available.)
 
 

Primary consciousness' whole bag of talent is wrapped up in its:
total commitment  --   the commitment to keeping you alive;
an activity it performs like a Gold Medallist,
(assuming you are alive as you are reading this),
but man's work-a-day consciousness has no talent whatsoever for philosophical reflection --  even though! --
it invented the idea.
By its very nature, ordinary consciousness throws itself completely into whatever it is doing at the moment,
but what the few long for does not even exist, in-the-moment --
it is the moment --
it is the seeking itself.
What consciousness cannot conceive,
nor its thoughts ever picture
is a well whose refreshment lies entirely in
the lowering of the bucket.
(Devilishly clever, wouldn't you say,
for life to hide the cabbage right in front of man's snout.)
 
 

In a different time frame from here,
it does not matter what you know
as long as you believe that what you know is meaningful;
in a different spatial zone than this one,
it does not even matter what you think,
as long as you take your thinking seriously,
and in a completely different realm than the one
collective humanity occupies,
it does not matter what you think.
 
 

Primary consciousness' major tool is being: single-minded;
the other-consciousness required by the few to do-the-do,
not only is not single-minded --  it is not even much minded.
(Many things that the few believe they seek when they start
prove to be mistaken goals;
minded is one of them.)
 
 

Men profess not to understand one another,
but each man's primary consciousness understands other men quite well.......well, as well as it does itself, (which is to say):
it understands the hunger of the belly;
the yearning of the loins;
the strength & weariness of muscles,
and every other feature of man's innate drive to survive,
but beyond that  --  nothing,
for to ordinary consciousness there is nothing else out in life to be understood, but there is something else someplace else to be grappled with: its own being --  now that,
it clearly does not understand,
but does that stop it from pretending that it does? --
does two plus two still equal seventeen?
A man who understands his consciousness
understands all that a man can understand about life;
but least he become re confused, he cannot say that he does,
nor pretend not to;
that you are able to do when you find your way to the near by house in your brain of the other-consciousness.
 
 

There is a place you can go in your brain's consciousness that produces such a pressure drop
that your faulty hearing is immediately blown out.
For a man out on the true swim,
bad listening is as bad as bad talking,
and the badest part of it all is being in
that part of the neural ocean where at you both talk and listen,
(you know): listen to your own talk,
but that is the breast stroke, (indeed the master stroke) of
your everyday consciousness:
to instruct itself, and to be so instructed,
(the blind teaching needlepoint to chickens).
It is "bad enough" to be an imbecile, but look how much more embarrassing it will be if it is ever discovered that you were your own role model and mentor......(well, not you,
but the routine consciousness your head came with).
Some monasterians have half a wet suit  --  not talking,
but that will take you to no depths without you stop listening;
and forget about the-dangers-of listening to
the foolishness of other people,
it's the idiocy of your own ordinary consciousness
that you gotta avoid;
you can't stop it, but with the help of Zeus' patented ear plugs,
by gawd! --  you can quit listening to it.
.......................................(can't you?!?!)
 
 

Cheetahs take a break from focusing  --   men stare;
neither does any harm, save when men believe it does --
then it does --   and in fact, the harm increases,
in that such men then begin to stare at their staring.
Focus on focusing and leave staring to carpenters.

A thing that stares at itself --  wastes its life.
("Hey - that can't literally be true!"
   "Course not: there is nothing literally true or untrue save
to those who stare.")
 
 

To execute its duties as your protective big brother,
primary consciousness must always --  be right;
anyone with anything to say or do that threatens your survival
is wrong --  plain dead wrong  --  no discussion;
your consciousness is always right; anything opposed, wrong --
--  case closed.
And with ordinary men the case is never opened;
only the few are on-the-case,
and most of them merely on cardboard cartons.
Get on the real case, me laddies; not on the flimsy,
blown-away-with-every-wind paper box, and don't claim to not know better; they are easy to recognize, and, "How" you ask,
easy, easy:  there are other people on the same box,
believing they are chasing the same case.
If anyone is interrogating the same suspects as you --
you've strayed off onto a chump's case;
you're trying to solve a crime that was never committed  --
--  it was just faux committed:
primary consciousness' apparent commitment to understanding itself when it has had ten or nine thousand years to realize this has all the features of a snipe safari.
Go after something other than the, now-meaningless feeling consciousness experiences in  --  being right!
If you are breathing, then give consciousness its due for
a job well discharged,
but you become as misguided as it is if you then seriously
listen to its ruminations regarding itself.
(Have you ever seen a mighty warrior now on hard times,
sitting in the gutter, mumbling to himself.......)
 
 

Men appear to battle over ideas just as surely as they do food, land and resources, but it is just your old running partner,
Fata Morgana.
When in battle for goals which neither side can put hands on,
men will proclaim that they fight for a verbalizable ideal,
be it religious, political or cultural, makes no never-mind;
it is a phony conceived conflict, for such struggles are always but a reflection, played out through man physically,
of his consciousness' near insane frustration in trying to
look itself in the face and say: "Ah HAH!  I know you!"
Fingers do not fight thumbs, but if man's primary consciousness
was a hand then its disquiet comes from the hand attempting to grab itself; the thumb can look down at the palm; the palm look out to the fingers;
they see the hand constantly grabbing all sorts of things --
--  why not itself?!   --    why not indeed.
And there is normally none present to nay say the undertaking
and consciousness' self induced, mental trompe l'oeil.
Faster-learner's-way-out: don't fight over anything you can't
eat, fuck, or sleep in.
 
 

In the world of ordinary consciousness: the hunger to do something is a large part of ever doing it,
when in the world of the secretly hipped few,
it can turn out to be everything about doing it.
(You will never know until you carry it far enough,
"And just how far is that?!"
  Too far, my friend  --   wayyyyyyy too far.)
 
 

There is a way to both move and be still at the same time;
to both speak and also be silent,
and supreme of all: a way to struggle and not struggle at all;
it is the super hip's secret of cosmic efficiency,
and the way is simple  --  it is in the shifting in your consciousness of wherever you are at any instant,
over to the other place
which has no knowledge of motion & calm;
noise & quiet; peace & turmoil.
It is the great ---  Clear Eyed Monster  --   "GraaaaW!!"
              Run for your lives chillen, or it'll eat you all.
 

                                             J