Suffering

What a word!

Humans just love it, and they most especially love to express their suffering - from love poems to a lost lover who'll never read it, to hate letters to a magazine editor who'll never read it, and everyone in between.



Oh, humans just luuuuuuv their suffering - especially that particularly sweet smelling mental kind, that they don't even have to TRY to conjure up, it's just there, like stink on shit, or white on rice... no, I think stink on shit is more appropriate.



You know WHY humans luuuuuuv their suffering? Oh, you "think" you do, you "believe" you do, you'll even SAY you do, but do you really? (I'm not talking about someone else, here, I'm talking about you, dear, you the reader right now: "Why do you luuuuuuv your mental suffering?")



I'll tell you - right now, because you need to know this ;^) It's so you can tell someone about it, and then tell them how it all turned out. That's it, in a nutshell, and all wrapped up like a present someone leaves at your door without knocking, and you open up the door, and open that little package, and it !!!EXPLODES!!! in your face, killing many, and leaving you a crippled and damaged, >>thing<< - for awhile, and you start suffering over it, and thinking about it, and telling all your friends and family, ad nauseum (till even THEY get tired of you and your whining), just so you can tell them - much, much later if you're quite ordinary - how it all turned out, you know, that "funny story".



It's delicious the way people luuuuuuv their suffering.

Real Idiocy

Only in the human kingdom, can such a concept be discussed - certainly not in the non-human kingdom, for all non-humans are simply >>what they are<<, doing >>what they do<<, driven by a higher force, Life itself, doing what Life does here.



Only in the human kingdom, can real idiots flourish, and when one bad apple gets into your bushel, *look out*, because in no time at all, the whole bushel becomes compromised.



These bad apples are quite unique in the living kingdom, in that they start dying from the inside out, and only become noticeable, when the degree of death has reached a point that it can be >>communicated<<, and that's how one bad apple can spoil your bushel, unless you are alert, and look out for them.



Bad apples come in many colors and flavors, and humans love them, because they spice up what is generally bland and uninteresting. When a bad apple shows up in the bushel, all the other apples are completely unaware, and as soon as an unaware apple becomes, actually, *aware* of the existence of the bad apple, it has already acquired the dis-ease of the bad apple. The longer this *awareness* of the bad apple persists, the greater degree of dying from the inside out proceeds in the otherwise - except for that *awareness* -healthy, colorful, and succulent apples.



You know what real idiocy is, in the world of humans? You know, right? You don't need to be told, right? And you certainly don't need to ASK? Right?

The Herd Handbook

There is a page in the Herd Handbook, which, unfortunately for most, never made it to the widely published version, yet DID make it into a few of the handbooks:



The (concept of the) herd is NOT out there, in the world of humans - that is, not the conception nor the expression of the concept - though many (read: MOST) take it that way, judging by their gutteral reaction to it when upon hearing about it, think they've been called, sheep.



The herd is somewhere else ENTIRELY! And only a small, small minority ever see that, or at least, see a piece of "that" (herd), for even when they are told, in print, they can't remember it in realtime. And...



Sheep are somewhere else ENTIRELY! But only a smaller still minority ever even catch a glimpse of "them" (sheep), let alone a full-frontal witnessing, for even when they are told, in print (ha! a pun!) they can't remember it or realize it in realtime.



But, when you find out - on your own, not because someone told you about it, and you went, "Yeah, I guess I sorta see what you're suggesting here... but I'm not convinced it's the TRUTH! (I'll have to think about that later.)" - it's a "kind of" awakening, the likes of which you have not experienced yet.



Believe it or don't.

"Resting on one's laurels"

[To rely on one's past achievements instead of working to maintain or advance one's status or reputation.]



This goes hand-in-hand with erecting monuments to one's self-professed achievements as proof of those achievements.



There are several people here and elsewhere (though they likely - and this is funny AND revealing - don't even know who they are), who have made, and are making a career out of "resting on their laurels", and each supposed effort they make to further their shaky status, is nothing but further erections in their life's-work of building a monument to their self-proclaimed prior achievements. (So they write a book, publish a website, author a "My Story" page detailing their "sudden enlightenment.")



"I am GOD realized (and you're not!) Here's what happened."

"I had an instant enlightenment in 1986 (and you didn't!) Here's my story."

"I am a yam and that's all that I yam (and you ain't!) Here's the glorious details."



Nothing but BRICKS in the monument, pushed into place by people who have nothing more intelligent to do with the rest of their lives than erecting monuments while resting on their laurels.



And, they actually think/believe/hope someone is impressed by all that.

Greetings from the future

Groups; up and down, small and large, forever;

stuff bunches up then breaks apart only to bunch up again.



People join groups and they all feel better by their new associations, and so it spirals out and out and captures everything in its path. But it goes beyond just the camaraderie, the communing with other people, the desire for sex - ah, the humanity. It's genetic/magnetic, and first it's happening in your own brain,...



in words; in and out, short and long, forever; non-vocal and sub-vocal "sound" bunches up and forms thought then breaks apart only to bunch up again. Words connect with other words and running through these thoughts is the "prime-ordinal thought" that this-is-thinking, and with all these new associations it readily speaks out and tells off every thought in its path. But it goes beyond just the chaotic symmetry, the harmonic resonance, the symbolic significance. It's electro/chemical, and it's happening out in the civilized world of men,...



in speech; it is the purpose of speech, prepared ones and unprepared ones, forever to put down other words. It is the purpose of speech to invalidate prior speech. It is a self-cleansing mechanism - that which is or has become useless >>should<< be excised, else it brings down the rest, the healthier and more alive parts.

In the beginning...

In the beginning, your "beginning", after your physical beginning, was the word, speech, and practically all child-speak is hostile; parents act as the instigators and invalidators in this dynamic, especially right after all the goo-goo baby-talk ceases... ("Johnny! Stop throwing food on the floor!"). Later, the grown-to-full-size-child (some call them adults, ha!) continues this outward invalidation of everything he/she hears.



Everyone's head, today, is a metaphorical cosmos of "core ideas", little sub-versions of the "core ideas", and clouds of debris fields swirling about the cranium. If you (can) look just a little askance, you can see it.



The sun, or one's sense of oneself (what one thinks/feels one truly is), is the "core idea". Spinning wildly but orderly, arms flailing, about that core, are words which have grouped together quite mechanically and quite semantically and congealed on several, quite distinct when seen, hidden when not, "points of view" - which are little sub-reflections, subversions, clones of the sun-point. And when one or another temporarily transits "into your view", you think it and believe it's you thinking.



The bodies, or planetoids, or concepts you can still remember (in this mental solar system) - mechanically deposited sensations in memory - are constantly smashing into each other, apparently non-destructively as in argument and debate and everyone talking at once, but also, at times, quite destructively as in real "learning" and "realization", and especially "new-realization" - leaving particle trails of broken phrases and tangled twisted logic-strings that get all knotted and clotted. These amorphous yet coherent threads are the ever-tightening asteroid belts that literally separate and sometimes strangulate the larger bodies, or concepts.

The poet and the philosopher

If you put a poet and a philosopher in a ring together, who would win: 1) in a fight to the death, over "what is truth?" 2) in a fight to the death, over "what is beauty?"



Yes, those terms, truth and beauty, are arbitrary, and other similar words could be used, but does a poet, or a philosopher have a built-in advantage over the other?



Specifically, does thought have an advantage over feeling, or feeling over thought? And if so, in which realms, or is it, all realms - where men call home?



Questions, like these, and countless others - meaningless in themselves - are metaphors only, fictions with a temporary life, like atomic rods in a nuclear reactor: at the heart of consciousness is a question, and at the heart of the question, is a paradox. If there is anything resembling a native passion to the mind, then it's curiosity, and if curiosity was an atomic reactor, then The question at the core is the fuel rods.