There is THE realization, and before and after it, an infinite number of lesser ones -
all informative and entertaining, but none indispensable or everlasting  --
that is the character of THE realization alone:
a singular whale that swallows every minnow the mind can produce.
 
 
 
 

Independent thinking is not merely thought that is contrary to other thinking,
and it is not even thought about the things other men think about;
independent thinking is, above all else --  private thought about the nature of thinking,
which pragmatically makes it an activity impossible to describe to ordinary thought;
thus be it an enterprise recognized only by he who practices it.
Regardless of the strange external claims made for this sort of activity, what the certain man does and knows is known only to him  --   actually seen only by him,
and of value, only to him  --   and for him, as indefinable as it may be,
nothing less than independent thinking will do.
All other brain operations are but the monitoring of heart beat;
the measuring of blood pressure; the regulating of hormones,
and the overseeing that the mind’s world of dreams runs apace  --
apart from these normal, perfunctory necessities,
the certain man finds only the prosecution of independent thinking
worthy of his brain’s life.
 
 
 

Wanting to know what is going on is in a sense, wanting to be a superman --
but in a quite specific sense  --   in secret;
the certain man does not seek the realization so that others will then
view him as some sort of superman, no,
what he desires is simply to be a superman to himself,
anything beyond that is, back-to-la-la-land.

It is sort of fascinating how constrictively focused and held must be even an educated man’s attention for him to remain as mentally captive as is the city norm.
(When they first suddenly see the degree of energy required to keep man’s mind imprisoned,
many people involuntarily grin & gasp: “Whoa!”)

Jailhouse Graffiti: Those who don’t see the joke,
                                 eventually have a stroke.

 “Gee, it must be great to die and grow up all in the same instant.”
            "You can say that again!
              And don’t let that heavy iron imaginary door hit you as it falls off its hinges."
  “Hey!  --  those aren’t hinges  --  those are my synapses!”
 
 
 
 
 

Talking about things as though they are something other than they clearly are,
is at worst, indicative of a normal, herd mentality which thinks euphemistically,
but at best (as willfully practiced by one-who-knows)
it reflects a mind which understands that shadows cannot comprehend
the objects by which they are cast (which is to say that):
ordinary thought can in no wise ever understand what is herein meant by, independent-thinking.
To one who recognizes  what is going on in that special world of man’s inner,
second reality,
what even the most learned and erudite of ordinary men think of as, thinking,
is, by comparison to independent thinking,
a distorted reflection of something the herd’s collective mind will never see.
While others discuss the rainbow light flowing through a prism,
the certain man looks directly at the sun.
(Pigs remain forever pigs for the simple reason that they do not know what else to call themselves  --  [the three pigs in the fairy tale, that is, of course.])
 
 
 
 

If you listen to life speaking through the mind and mouth of the collective,
you will never want for something to worry about
(something to needlessly worry about, that is, of course).
 
 
 
 
 

The independently inclined (until they get a good grip on the matter)
tend to feel misused when their hormones override their thinking;
you get over this as you realize that hormones locally (same as life universally)  --
not only trump, but fuel everything;
the challenge for the certain man is to not accept (as is natural to man)
the thinking produced by hormones and general life as the full exercise of its potential;
only the independent thinker knows how to be usefully studying the nature of worry even as the city part of his mind is near overwhelmed by same.
Even at the moment his eyes make their last blink on that inevitable, final day, the certain man will still be independently pondering the very notions of life and death.
 
 

If you can tell what the certain man is really thinking
he has slipped and is back at the level everyone else takes to be thinking.