Ancestors

Once you begin to grasp the mythic nature of the less complex gods who have gone before us, you might see “ancestor worship” as a faulty attempt to express a more proper attitude, that of, shall we say, “ancestor compassion.”

Some smell an overwhelming stench of destruction, while a few others enjoy the fragrance of a universally uplifting potpourri.

“Okay, listen up kid,” said the kindly old gruff voice, “’Cause I’m only gonna say this a few times:  Those who talk a lot, know a lot,” and the kid, rather than being more-confused-than-ever, was SIMPLY more-confused-than-ever.

A captain without as ship can be a captain anywhere – even in places where they’ve never even heard of water.

No matter the passion of the battle, never mind the righteousness of the cause – never take yourself prisoner.

J.

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Mis-Informed

An intelligent looking chap I met late one night last month over in that hazy area just laterally north of us, spoke to me in a tone, though hushed, that was indeed most emphatic; he said that he has personally seen irrefutable evidence that clearly indicates that “all of humanity’s historic and continuing problems are a direct result of biological MIS-information being deliberately fed to man.”

There is a certain intersection in the human nervous system wherein all traffic laws are in suspension.

“I have a question…”  “Yes?”  “Just how does one experience an extraordinary adventure?”  “First, by having an extraordinary sense of adventure.”

Even on this rather routine world, there is a more complex level of perception possible whereby one may discover that amidst the continuing cacophony of all the other broadcasts, they’re yet always “playing our song.”

A chap last Monday I believe it was, said that he didn’t so much mind having to stay in this universe, if he could just ever get a call through to Room Service.

J.

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Why Personalize A Myth?

The individual adventure of each revolutionist renders all prior gods archaic.

Another cogent, currently unclassified, Future Law Of Physics:
The less a thing
is understood,
the more it
will be talked about.
 

Lateral Spin, Variant One:
The usefully obvious
should be
generally overlooked.

Okay, let’s be fair.  How about an Un-temporalized Theorem from The Social Sciences:
The power of history
is in its retelling.

It’s pretty risky to be laughing at other people’s names until you find out what your real one is.

If you do manage to “personalize “your own myth, you’ve destroyed it.

J.

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Stark!

A shortish fellow with mostly colorful hair, sitting in an adjacent chair, leaned over and honored me with this notion, “On real good days when I can see roughly just how life operates, it makes me clearly aware that we are all living under extremely cheap tensions.”

Don’t forget to write home, now, and remind ‘em that all of life’s competing interests are common interests.

When you reach that area of the solar system wherein you begin to find one person’s story to be as good as the next, your appreciation of fiction (and reality) will increase mightily.

A grandfatherly (he assures me that where he comes from may be an adverb, anyhow) a grandfatherly guy out on loan, in attempting to describe to a kid the sublime intricacies of revolutionist thought, and the labyrinth complexity of new-intelligence, ultimately wrapped it up in the explanation, “Stark!”

Those who most faithfully pursue the dictum of “pick up the pieces,” will most likely end up with the best collection of pieces.

J.

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Better Light

After hanging around some of the adult ideas, one kid off and mused to his little self, “If it is true that ‘Everything looks better in better light,’ would it not perhaps behoove a kid to bypass the obvious entanglements and go directly to trying to make the light better by which he sees things?”

Pondering the wonderful world of criticism, one guy mused, “It’s not fair, you can write about art and music, but you can’t paint and perform about literature, it’s just not fair,” and a critic nearby thought, “Fair…fair, my what a curious concept.”

“Nepotism!” cried out the accusing voice, “Nepotism, nepotism, nepotism; that’s all it is, clear and simple nepotism,” and the reply came, “But none of us are related in the least,” (a pause, then the accuser marvels), “God, what a clever ruse!”

One excitable chap, caught up in his personal discoveries of this-and-that, ofttimes resembling that-and-this, said to a friend, “If you’ll go a month or so without washing your hair, it’ll almost look like a toupee.”

Words Of Wisdom from a not-so-hot-planet:
“Trying to piss
on another’s foot
while you’re running
is perhaps an
oxymoronical
endeavor.”

J.

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There’s Nothing Simple About It

Whines one guy, “Simply this, simply that, simply, simply, simply…sometimes that’s all I hear and, by god, there’s nothing ‘simply’ about it.”

A recent poll on that recuperating planet, reveals that sixty-eight percent of nouns and things, and eighty-three percent of verbs and actions, would be willing, under certain conditions, to be metaphors.

A sturdy looking haberdasher once asked a revolutionist, “Is your kind of activity to relieve stress or to induce it?’  And the rebel responded, “Do you know the difference?”  And the guy says he does.  “Okay, that is the difference.”

If you don’t clearly see the irrelevant, you’re of no use to the revolution.

Even if local authorities officially proclaim that beyond all doubt, without question, you are a bona fide living “expert” in some particular field, unless it is your intention to be so, remember – you’re not.

J.

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Personalization

“Kid, I’ll tell you something parabolically significant, and privately useful, if you’ll promise not to let it throw you in the ordinary physical world…okay?”  “Okay,” came the reply, and the voice continued, “Then dig:  Once you can see it, everyone and everything’s a tough act to follow.”  (“Including ones self.”)

He adjusted the microphone, cleared his throat, and with all the muster he could dignify, addressed the crowd, “After attentively heeding the previous speakers, I do not believe I can confidently speak for many of us here when I say that the latest proposal is almost as good as the original one, other than the fact that it’s not.”

One nearby revolutionist once noted that, per his reckoning at least, “By the time you get to where you really know what you’re doing in a particular area, you almost immediately forget about it.”

No matter what was said, this one chap would always nod his head agreeably, pause for several moments, and while still appearing in accord with the comment would ask, “And what is the alternative?”

In a more complex future, one seething synonym for death is “personalization.”

J.

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Earthbound

After all the hugs, tears and goodbyes, just as the kid was about to depart for his life on Earth, his father whispered, “At times, if you feel like you don’t know what you’re talking about – don’t sweat it.”

One reason a revolutionist doesn’t look back, is that it generally requires that you loosen your head from your other nerve endings.

“Look,” said the first guy, “You’re my very best friend, and I wanna tell you a close, personal secret.”  And his companion nodded to proceed, so the guy continues, “If it weren’t for feeling ‘bad’ I don’t think I’d feel at all.”  And his friend snorted, “I thought you were gonna tell me a secret!”

Regarding such earthbound comments as, “It’s just your imagination,” do take intergalactic note that there is no such thing as “just” anything.  (Never?  Never.  Never, ever?  You heard me.)

This one little, not-so-little, lad has a borrowed uncle who sometimes would say to him, “Kid, if I may call you, ‘Kid’ – Kid, the secondary pursuit of health is no fit hobby for man nor beast”…(and I do believe you fit one of those categories.)

J.

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You Ain’t Really Got the Blues

Last Thursday on Talent Night at that little club over on the hot planet, one young sorehead moseyed up the mike with his fairly trusty guitar and announced, “I’d like to sing this little number I just recently writ.  I call it, ‘You Ain’t Really Got The Blues ‘Til You’ve Run Out Of Bad Luck!’”

(And then he said, “It goes like this” – and he was right.)

In several ways, on many days, some people hold their bank balance as their myth.

If direction is irrelevant, what does that say about the pertinence of dimensions?  And he added:  Is there nowhere to turn to?  Yes.  Is there no place to go?  Certainly.  Is there no one to cling to?  Why sure – but don’t stand so close…

One concerned parent found it necessary to constantly reassure her child that, “the humidity has nothing to do with one’s I.Q.,” when he knew it was a damn lie.

A freelance jester at one revolutionist camp, one evening danced the following rhyme:

    “Why be a fanatic

      In matters somatic?

      Also, OTHER wise,

      As you might surmise.”

…Oh yeah, a few weeks later, when he was feeling greater, he offered up this one (in what seems to be self-referral-meter):

     “When poetry turns to prose,

      I always hold my nose.

      The offense I hope to quell

      To my verbal sense of smell.

      The special made mundane,

      Inclines me to brain pain.

      And while my rhymes are hot,

      I think right here I’ll discontinue them.”

If you have any tendencies to be ugly, getting in a human hurry only exacerbates them.

J.

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The God of the Second Chance

On this one world, when the creatures became old enough to stabilize their myths into a deity, they referred to theirs as, “The God Of The Second Chance,” which gave all the other myths their best laugh in years.

Man cannot predict the future, for man IS the future.

Don’t poison the snakes if you plan reptile for lunch.

(This may seem obvious to some, but there are those who suffer from a dangerous lack of “brain-stomach coordination,” [in an intellectual sense, of course].)

On one real certain and real obvious day, one of the older guys told one of the younger ones, “Remember, if you wanna feel good, all you gotta do is make someone else feel bad,” and the kid thought, “I always wondered if you were really my father, and now I know.”

If all you know is what is of personal significance, then what you know is of no significance.
 

As he conclusively departed this plane, one revolutionist shouted back, “Life can be understood, but not explained!”

J.

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