“In that place where  --   everything-is-right-out-in-the-open –
no man has any difficulty understanding what is going on…”
  “Excuse me Professor, but where is this place?”
“Ahhh.....well.....ah..... actually it is right here.”
   “So why man’s uncertainty & constant dispute over what is supposedly, going-on?”
“Well....all right, I did not intend to get into that just now, but since you ask:
for whatever be nature’s reason: the way men are made they confuse:

Yes, I know, you were about to say: ‘How can that be? –
feelings and thoughts are two entirely different things and everyone knows it,’
and, yes, men have obviously invented these two separate words to ostensibly
represent their perception of two separate and distinct features of their own make up, but from one view, something most tricky and subtle is afoot here:
it is tempting to label it an illusion --  but it is much more devious and captious
than what men normally think of as an illusion;
it is like an illusion covered with a trompe l’oeil painting that makes it look like

Consider: sane men do not argue over feelings;
if one man says he feels bad, no one will tell him he is mistaken,
but if he says that such-&-such idea is bad,
someone is sure to disagree with his assessment,
but the only reason anyone ever says that any particular thought is bad
is because they feel bad.”
 

“With due respect Professor, there are quite a number of ideas that I think are bad --
in and of themselves  -- regardless of how I might be feeling
when I make my feelings about them known.”
 

“Understood --  but there is the super illusion at work;
the confusing of how you feel for what you think --
and it is so much a part of man’s nature that it is nearly  impossible to realize --
like a skunk not being able to be aware of his own aroma, or a deer its shyness.
 

To a man’s ordinary consciousness, thinking seems to go on in the head,
and feeling somewhere below;
one limited to the brain --  the other roaming about in the chest, the stomach,
and when perfectly normal men say that they clearly recognize the distinction between how they feel and what they think,
they are being as honest as they can be, and believe that their perception of
the two being located in two different parts of their body is solid supporting proof.
 
 
 
 

The slipperiest side to this confusion is that nature does not lead men’s minds
to the acknowledgment of one simple fact (at least it sounds so at first), which is:
no man seriously attends to any thought unless he has some feeling about it;
a man with no feelings about baseball will have no thoughts on the game,
but the feelings for an affair which originally gave rise to a man having thoughts about it, commonly have become so muted from repetitious use that he can say
with all the sincerety possible for him, that he does not have any particular personal feelings about the matter on which he expresses his, thoughts –
and with these two words: his, and, thoughts, the camouflaged illusion
folds over on itself, and slips ever further from an ordinary man’s mental grasp.
 

There is no way to present this to the routine operations of a human mind,
the plain, irrefutable, right-in-plain-view fact that a man’s normal thoughts are not, his anymore than is his blood, his  --  in the sense that he is constantly, and consciously producing in his body all of the necessary elements and arranging them in
the proper combination to make his blood –
no rational person thinks such, yet they speak otherwise of the thoughts flowing continually through their consciousness.
Living with this unrealized mirage alone distorts a man’s mental sight sufficiently to keep him from a direct perception of what is going on;
he is like the head of an exploration who receives constant reports from a scout
he did not hire and who believes that they came from himself;
thus does he accept as: facts-he-determined  --  facts that were force fed him;
ergo does an otherwise reasonable man take as, his thoughts  --  someone else’s.
 
 
 

If you look at its definition in a dictionary, along with its full connotative use,
and you have within you the native potential to see what is going on,
then something indefinable itself should stir in a strange corner of your brain
which simply notes that what men think of as, having thoughts and thinking,
is not what is actually going on in their mind, even by their own definitions.
Due to the innate restriction just mentioned, there is no way to describe
to an ordinary man WHY what he calls his thoughts are not thoughts --
not his thoughts --  and from one visitable view  --   not even thoughts;
they are certainly something; something quite physical and real occurring in the brain, but to superficially accept, as men are meant to, that this activity is somehow, self-inspired --  you-originated --  is demonstratively absurd
(as always, only if you want to see its absurdity).
 

What nature has men calling, their-thoughts (when they are not instinctively involved with assisting the rest of the brain in solving some immediate threat to the man)
is their otherwise mute feelings given irrelevant voice;
it is like allowing the p. a. system in a hospital,
during times when it is not being used for its normal medical purposes,
to be taken over by amateur poets, musicians and other miscellaneous ranters.
 
 

There is something else the thought-producing operation of the brain can do
in some humans;
it cannot be described to other humans, nor even directly to those with the potential;
it can be hinted at; metaphorically suggested,
and everything it is not can be highlighted   --   which is its beauty and its bane.
Everything the ordinary part of everyone’s brain produces and calls, thought --
is not;
no selection process is necessary;
no need to figure out exactly which of your thoughts deserve the title & to be retained, and which ones are faulty and should be discarded or revised;
no need  --  they are all impostors  --   harmless entertainers, actually –
but on the basis of a man wanting to see for himself what is really going on --
--  they are not thoughts  --  and they are not even chaste feelings,
but are of a bawdy sort which, if they were a girl,
a decent boy wouldn't bring home to meet his mama.

And, ‘What to do?’ --  you ask: ‘Where to look?’  --
look anywhere inside of you that you have not been looking;
search out places your normal eyes/I's cannot see           ----             had enough?....”

“Yeah Professor  --   I give.”