Men get severely confused concerning the difference between
primary, physical reality and man’s other, mental-only one,
believing that they see material substance wherein none exists (involving all
cultural matters, such as religion, liberal arts education, politics, morality, etc)
due to them not heeding the fact that:
there is behavior that comes from instinct,
and that which comes from ideas,
thus they mistake physical rituals and the construction of buildings and artifacts
as proof of the matters’ materiality.
The place of motivation divides the essential from the recreational,
and being constantly aware thereof saves the certain man from a lifetime of
frustration and squandered mental potential.

Whilst reading a blistering bit of social commentary in a respected,
intellectual periodical, a lad asked a dad:
“Who reads this tripe?”
     “Those who can’t write it.”
And an email just in, urging me not to take this personally.

In the second reality of ideas, mutations are always harbingers of the future,
so when you see new, unexpected thoughts pass you by  --  wave!

The Secret As Consumer Goods.
A man-who-knows, and tries to share it randomly with others tends to become entangled in something resembling: bulk sales,
with customers who conitnually clamor for deeper and deeper discounts.
    (“Well yeah, I said  I wanted to know what’s really going on, but --  come on!  --
       you know that this is not what I expect to hear.”
When privately realized allegory becomes public myth,
it is reprocessed into virtual impotency.
“Songs about god and truth are certainly good to dance to, but......well  --
my inner feet tell me that something is musically missing.”
(Suggestion: If you DO ever hear a tune that touches you rightly  --
wave as it approaches, then  --  jump it!)

In his latest book, an author notes how the limitations of human thought
yet track the mind as it appears to grow and evolve;
he has entitled the tome: “Our Maps Make Us Saps.”

There is nothing about the physical world to awaken to,
and nothing about the intangible that CAN be awakened to;
a rock is a rock and a story is a story  --  and will forever remain but so.

As a couple of execs were walking through the city, the senior of the two noted:
“The principle problem with our security guards is how easily they are distracted.”
     “But they do see to their basic duties of keeping the building in physical running
       order don’t they?” responded the junior.
“That they do, but much of their time is free, and it is then that their attention is easily pulled here and there by matters outside the scope of their essential duties.”
      “Is this causing any harm?”
“Not that is visible; our concern is over whether this may have some ultimately deleterious effect on their ability to focus and hold their attention to real situations
when such is needed.”
     “But being able to do that is surely the minimum requirement for their position?!”
“Strange to say, but theirs has no published job description;
we’ve been making it up as we go for all the years the city has been in operation.”
     “That is surprising to hear, and indeed a bit strange.”
Moral: The city is no place for those hung-up on certainty.

There is a running risk of many ideas sounding better than they actually are.
(P.S. there are a few that don’t....that is, when they meet the proper audience.)

“Pa pa: what should I find to be the bravest thing you’ve ever told me?”
    “That you can’t wake up without realizing for yourself
      what that term really represents.”

A man ordinarily has approximately seventy years to understand what life is about,
and then suddenly, about thirty seconds to do something about it.
“I must say: that certainly is a lot of ‘abouts’ for one sentence.”
         Objects and nouns may break my bones,
         but what can you fear from adverbs.
Words start out meaning nothing in themselves; vocal symbols for material entities, but, O sweet webster!  --  look how far they’ve come!

Noted a father to a son:
“Even if time and age changed the way you feel about something you used to do,
a real man would never mention it.”
Some years later the lad one day was struck:
“The things I eventually forgot to talk about are what have seen me through.”

One man says: “If I could nail my mind down,
I wouldn't feel like such a clown  --  hell!  --  I wouldn’t BE such a clown.”

When one man heard a phrase that had been used in wartime to warn people
about saying something that a spy might hear that could aid the enemy:
“Loose Lips Sink Ships,” he glanced up at his frontal lobes and thought:
“Perhaps that explains my futile wait for mine to come in.”

From Our Unpublished Map Of The Mind.
If you had more space  --  you’d have more time.

A son asked a father:
“Does it help to have no interest in the lives of other people?”
  “How could it hurt?!”

The Great Investigation.
At every instant  --   in real time  --  you are either focused and on-the-case,
or you are asleep  --   in chains   --  in the dark.