Colloquialism
Conceptively Reemployed.
The
man-who-knows doesn’t have a dog in any
fight.
Taking
a cue from a government agency, one man now refuses to affirm or deny
any
accusations made by his consciousness about him.
Conversation.
“Everybody’s
favorite song to sing is: ‘You’re
Gonna Miss Me When I’m Gone.’”
“I don’t think so.”
“You’re
correct, it’s really: ‘You’re Gonna
Miss Me When I’m Gone – Right?!’”
It
is easier for those of ordinary consciousness to believe they have a grasp
of
the
nature of man when he is taken collectively:
as
part of a culture, a nation, a religion, a social class, rather than an
individual.
(Which
actually works out okay – since amongst the ordinary,
true
individuality does not exist.)
“The great thing about city hobbies my boy, is that you can fill
your stamp album
with coins and it matters not.”
“So
a psychiatrist could have just as well been a priest?!”
“Or a comedian.”
“God!
– I so love it here in the city, dad!”
“I know – and it scares the bejeezus out of me.
(Never mind boy, just a little surreal suburban humor.)”
Any
time you manage to get out of town, let your byword be a hearty shout of:
“Spare
no expense!”
Travel
& The Nervous-System-Rebel.
The
Exhilarating News: Every map is now
out of date.
(Side
Note: You’re not allowed to say or think that in the city.)
A
Bundle.
When
something unfortunate happens to people of ordinary consciousness,
they
take it personally and rail about injustice:
fact:
fish get wet.
When you get your sea ears, people sound like they’re singing under water.
“Nobody enjoys hearing a person talk as much as they do.”
“I bet that goes double for the awakened man.”
“That or half.”
On
planet X
was a man who knew about things on planet Y,
but
since people on his planet were not interested in the other one,
no
one ever knew how much the man knew.
Lifting
a leaf from the play book of political candidates when they’re under attack
for
past acts, one man treats everything his automatic-consciousness has done
with
a backhand wave and the dismissive words: “That’s old news.”
(“If
my dog did it – it doesn’t interest me –
plus I’m not responsible --
take
it up with him – and good luck finding him while I’m
here talking to you
about
him like this.”)
Note:
This previous sentence tells a super alert man all he needs to know to
get-to-the-bottom-of-things (that is): to the-essence-of-consciousness.
There
is a certain hard-nosed attitude about oneself that is necessary for waking-up
– not for thinking
about what waking-up may be like – but for actual waking-up.
(“I don’t like the sound of that,” said a crab disturbed by the prospect
of
hitting the beach.)
Those
who allow their automatic-consciousness to protect itself as per its instinct
– ultimately flounder.
A
father advised a son:
“The
only trick to being civilized is A.A.
– Act Agreeably.”
“That’s all.”
“Yes.”
“There’s nothing else?”
“Nothing.”
“Not anything else you need do?”
“Not
a thing.”
“It sounds too simple to be true.”
“You
could be right.”
In
his own private, internal Court Of
Appeals,
one
man’s consciousness finds everything
it dislikes to be unconstitutional.
A
Second Bundle.
At
least once a day one man shouts to his McDonald
consciousness:
“Don’t
make me
come in there.”
It doesn’t matter whether you have talent or not as long as you
remain in the priesthood.
“If other people don’t know what you’re talking about – you
may be Enlightened.”
“Or something else.”
The
man-who-knows is subtle with everyone else – implosive
with his self.
A
duck doesn’t care
if it rains.
It’s
all right to be The Mad Hatter
as long as you know that you are
him;
you
don’t have to know what a Mad Hatter
is–
just have to know that you are one.
The
Wrap.
You’re
either: a man with a dog – or:
a
dog who’s momentarily swallowed a man, rendering him unconscious;
the
first is being-awake, the second is being-asleep.
(“So there’s nothing else I need to know?”
“Arf.
[That
means don’t listen to anything I say when I’m speaking in this voice.]”)
“Okay Pop: then what’s our goal: To be a duck when it rains?”
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