Being citified & civilized is never reading Shakespeare until you have shaved, showered and put on clean clothes.
And one man asks: “Do you think hormones appreciate all that neurons do for them?” --  and his partner popped in: “How ‘bout the other way around?”
When you live in a house of mirrors (the mental city)
it is not possible to see what one faction does to another faction  --
all you can do is say that X does such-&-such to Y,
and half who hear it will agree, and half not, and two halves make a whole:
the whole of reality in man’s mental only world.
The-man-who-knows is neither fully civilized (that is:
centrally tethered to mankind’s collective mind), nor uncivilized,
in the same way that he is not what he shows to others, yet is not something hidden, and neither is he this way in his own consciousness,
for there, in the only area of importance to him,
he also does not show to himself in thought what he really is, nor is he involved in
the imaginary effort of keeping anything about himself from himself;
ordinary minds do not believe such a thing possible,
and pay psychiatrists and priests to agree with them,
but unseen within the certain man --  there it is: a secret right out in the open;
the improbable in clear sight, but it takes more than two eyes/I’s to see it;
the basic binary mental vision of: “I either see it or I don’t” won’t do.

He who understands what is going on knows it is not necessary to
bathe before Shakespeare, nor pray before sex;
hormones and neurons will line themselves up in proper fashion when left alone by city meddlers (who are the only force that keeps ordinary men superficially civilized).
When, in the affairs of man’s second reality, you know what is going on,
you know all there is to be known about nothing  --
a wondrous, enlightening condition, never to be experienced by minds which believe something is going on in the second reality.
 
 

Fact: For the few: there are things sadder than being sad  --
and saddest of all for them is to never discover this.
“Man!  --  it’s the pits to be out here lost in the woods!”
    “Yeah!  --  and to not realize it!”
“Yeah!”  --
but --  what-you-don’t-know can’t hurt Lancelot as long as he stays in Camelot.
“See, Martha  --  there are more benefits than you can ever count to being ignorant.”
     “Of certain things, you mean?!”
“Of course: ‘of-certain-things,’ you ninny! --  what else could I mean!”
    “Well, knowing you as I do, you could again be....”
“Never mind all that; now let’s go eat.”
Fact: For the few there is something worse than being merely ignorant
(and don’t give away your level of intelligence by asking publicly what it is).
 
 

A religious fundamentalist’s passionate desire to prove evolution wrong,
proves him wrong, whether evolution is wrong or not being beside the point:
the Rule for the rebel is: The desire to disprove someone else’s  “it”
proves you wrong every time  --   whatever “it” is.
(Righteous rules comes wrapped no neater than this.)
 

Before someone can adequately die in one neural land,
the family of the would-be departed are required to compose an ode to the king.
Only the fully realized rebel comes out of the Great Battle with no animosity.
 
 

The rebel’s mind is one of life’s busier highways,
but once his vision is cleared he does not mistake the movement of traffic
for arrival at real destinations.

One man has adopted the private approach of:
Living as though there is no such word as, “instead.”
(One of advertising’s favorite terms: “Accept No Substitutes!”
it pilfered from the life of the certain man.)

Fact: Only city people dream of one another.
(Hawks never think about slugs, [nor full stomachs, dining etiquette.])
The Rebel Version of Said Fact: Only while you sleep and dream
do you have nightmares about being asleep and dreaming.

Religion & The City.
Men with pissant lives have pissant gods.
 

Any claim about man that the mind can come up with will seem somehow as though
it could be at least partially so:
this would tell a man who can actually use his mind all he needs to know.
 
 

For the rebel: being sick is not much of an excuse for thinking about being sick.
“I must step in here and disagree most heartily:
what is more natural and expected of man than if he be ill
to have his thoughts on his illness?!”  --  nothing sir  --  you are correct.
 
 

Within what collectively occurs to humanity in the lifetime of an individual man:
facts are too liquid and open ended to have any enlightening relevance;
flashlights with a shelf life can never illuminate themselves in their life time;
an alert man would learn from this.
Only hormones have a past  --
only neurons, the feel of a future different than the present:
this is how they appear to progress in their ideas regarding life at Camelot.