Two boys who were friends were once out playing in the fields
when far up in the hills they spied a giant silver stallion who pranced on its hind legs,
flashed fire from its eyes, and startled the air with awe-inspiring sounds  –
before suddenly disappearing.
Once home, the first lad tried to tell everyone about the mighty steed,
but since he could not show it to them, they scorned his story and from this
the other boy learned an instant lesson and never mentioned the horse to anyone.
Things which a man has seen –  which others cannot understand  –
they will not believe, thus his attempts to describe them, only frustrates them both.
Pachyderms say: “I can understand the uses of pigskin,
but where on god’s green earth did you find the material you put on piano keys?”
One of torpidity’s most dependable allies is: “I don’t wanna think about it.”
(It’s damn near fool proof.)

Literary News.
There is an unidentified collusion between an author and everything he writes
that he considers, serious.
Corollary: If men who-know wrote  --  it would all be fictional humor.
    (“Fictional-humor!  –  what the hell is that!  –   I don’t get it?!”)

When, from amidst the multitudinous words he constantly spoke, one man would have some minor (and irrelevant) factual error pointed out, he would often say:
“When you are trying to verbally explain the entirety of reality, sometimes: liberties-are-taken (same as reality does in being reality).”

Those who want to be thought of as a success-story
never (from the certain man’s perspective) are one.

Posed this, a stranger to the Court:
“What is the final insult?  –   hearing a sham enlightened man’s words
translated into a foreign language;
and what is the first insult?  –   hearing him speak in his native tongue,”
and the King’s personal advisors standing ‘round the throne suddenly decided to examine their shoes and the ceiling cornices.
    (“Funny how even idiocy can sound charming when delivered with an accent.”)

The individual struggle to evolve is the only form of human effort that is
truly unique to man. (Even elephants and warthogs can down trees and play quarterback.)

After hearing once again an ordinary man employ in a grave tone the term:
“The curse of thought,” one man corrected same to his self:
“The curse of automatic thought,” then went back to turning the bolt (in the right direction.)

Any idea a man wants to promote is in large part, self promotion.
(That’s why the dead are the most popular source of quotes:
they’re not around to try to share the spotlight with the quoter.)

It is only when you truly know a place that you can truly tell it good-bye.

Asked a father a son:
“Contraire to common belief, can you conceive of the possibility that
a more evolved condition of consciousness might not involve: seeing-things-never-before-seen-by-man,
but might be simply seeing whatever one cannot see now?”
If porkers could swell up to their full potential size they wouldn’t be limited to
the backfield.
(Aka: “I may not be a genius, but at least I’m not as dumb as I was
when I was just the faux me.”)

Proclaims one chap: “Only two types of men look deeply into mirrors:
The fearful and those without fear.....or is it the uncertain and the indifferent?.....”

The featured speaker at the convention opened with these words:
“If you move backwards from a man’s present façade you can eventually locate his original talents; this will not work however concerning those who seek to be
secular and spiritual leaders of men [such as politicians and priests] because if you move such an inquiry back far enough in their instance, you fall into a meaningless abyss  --  for they have no original talent.”
And a voice from the audience said:
    “But I’ve heard you say the same thing about everybody.”
“Yes, that’s true, but I’ve found that people will more pleasantly tolerate hearing such information if it seems to be limited to specific types or categories.
(Or another way of looking at it):
While pigs do not enjoy hearing their overall swinery nature noted,
they will laugh at bacon strips and pork rinds.”
(And it sounded suspiciously like someone in the audience softly went: “Oink oink.”)

Then stepping smartly up to the old proclamation plate the next batter offers thus: “Some say that trying-to-solve-the-case is impossible, while others say it is illusory, still others call it useless; the truth however, lies somewhere in between,
wouldn’t you think?!”

Remembering is the struggle against the ephemeral;
understanding is the embrace of the temporary.
(The rebel’s love creed: “We only hug that which we comprehend.”)

The real rebel's closemouthed creed: “If I didn't do it today  --  it doesn't count.”

There was once a hermit who had somehow gained the reputation of being
wise and enlightened;
one day a messenger came to him with an invitation for the recluse to be
the featured guest at an annual gathering of famous yogis, gurus, religious leaders
and assorted spiritual masters, to which the outlier responded:
“Tell ‘em all to go to hell; if I wanted to associate with garbage and maggots
I’d just go sit in a room here by myself.”

Definition.
Pander: What you must do to be nice to ordinary people.

When he was a teenager one man’s favorite song was: “I Wanna Ramble,”
which he took as a cry for physical/sexual freedom;
in his mature years it remained his  –  and every other adult’s anthem,
but then as related to talking.

On one world local conditions finally proclaimed in words what everyone already
knew through practice: “You are free to believe anything you want.”

When asked how the loss of an eye had affected his driving a man admitted that it certainly had done so: “Now that I have only fifty per cent of my sight,
I depend on other drivers to at least be responsible for half my highway welfare.”
(A chap who heard this had an instant revelation, not about automobiles and shared accountability, but consciousness and the thoughts automatically provided thereto.
[“I may have been born in detroit but I’ll be damned if I’ll be buried with lenin,” muttered one unusually heated hot rodder.])

Though men say that the ultimate goal of all their spiritual, cultural and intellectual pursuits is: The Truth, and that it is only to be found via man’s thought process,
the fact is that in this unique realm where all of its reality is intangible:
thinking is the enemy of The Truth:  not one of man’s cultural/spiritual activities
would survive were they actually thought about;
this does not deny their importance to ordinary men's lives, but is a simple fact that
the few must clearly grasp to ever get out of the bus station and on-the-case.

On one world Life finally proclaimed in words what everyone already knew through practice: “You are free to believe anything you want,” and in a much softer voice added, “and forced to think whatever I tell you to.”
(Meanwhile back on our planet is a chap who says that while things here can often seem vague and obtuse, there is one absolute: The Law Of Random Certainty.)

The ole man pointed out another curio to the kid:
“By anyone’s definition: an awake, enlightened, liberated man has all the features
Life makes humans everywhere most laud, he is in fact the only one who (without it being his intention) meets all religions’ requirements for an acceptable existence,
and yet Life finds him undesirable as the standard for man.
What d’ya think, Buck-O?!”
After dinner that evening as they sat on the dock by the lake,
the elder spun his tongue at what he casually described as:
“metaphysical rhyme  –   just in time:
    Red sky at morning  –  sufi take warning;
    blue sky at night  –  yogi take flight;
    green sun at dawn  –   swamis gone wrong;
    pink moon at dusk  –  who can you trust.
    That which is caesar’s meets that which is zeus'  --   (film at eleven).”

Conversation.
“Everyone’s an antidote to their self.”
    “Well big deal! –  since they’re the cause of their illnesses in the first place.”
“Hey –  my advice is to take help wherever you can get it.”
    “Well.....yeah.....I see what you mean, but still.....”
The city is the place where man’s sense of fairness can trump even
the drive to survive.
    (“Man!  –  can you imagine how lions and gazelles and other beasties must envy us!   Wow.”)

One man pointed out an oddity to his self:
“I feel like you're either for me, or against me, and as far as I can tell,
everyone is against me  --  including me!   Everybody else, I can accept  --  but ME!?”

Though they don’t put it on their business cards:
it doesn’t much matter what a real inner rebel does as long as
foremost in his mind remains The Aim.
The teacher confided to the visitor: “You simply cannot allow some of the children
to know that it is recess all day long.”
One chap’s private motto: “Now that I understand I am the journey –
being the asphalt is no longer a bother.”
When you’ve been freed, you’re free; there is no such creature as partial freedom; no: freedom in this particular area, but not in that one;
no: freedom from this thing but not from that one;
once your eyes have been opened to the precise nature of man’s second reality nothing that cannot physically touch you –  can touch you;  you are freed from
all intangible foolishness & captivity (which are the only kinds there are).
 

The Prodigious Private I's Tip Of The Day: You'll never crack-the-case looking where everyone else is,
                                                                         nor by heeding their directions as to where you should be looking.