The sun here at the beach is so bright,
the sky so blue, the air so fresh, and the water so cool
that I am irresistibly drawn to writing again about that 
subject that has always been at the core of my life –
-- mucking about in the mind.
 

A father said to his son: "Look at it this way:
If you weren’t conscious 
you wouldn’t wanna be more conscious."
 
 
 
 
 
 

On one planet, reality has a life of its own.
(although, just like here, 
hardly anyone pays any attention to it.)
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

A lad asked his dad:
"If thinking is the ultimate human entertainment
then shouldn’t our brains give us as much pleasure
as do our, ‘private parts’?"
and the elder shouted back:
"Dolt! -- what do you think is your ultimate, 
‘private part’?!"

Use it or lose it. 
Use it and you abuse it.
You can’t lose it even if you abuse it.
But what most people can and do do is
miss the real fun by letting it
determine its own use. 
And one idea said:
"I don’t want to be thought by any mind that would have me."
…which again goes to show that people do not 
give enough attention to their feelings, 
rather that should say: not enough attention to how their brain feels –
not how their back or feet feel -- but their brain.

The popularity of alcohol is due to its ability to noticeably
cause the brain to "feel." 
(In one galaxy an alternative is employed.)
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

A man writes to say that after reading these daily reports for some time now
he is of the growing suspicion that they may all be
connected somehow.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

In a closed universe,
some systems collide and some do not –
and even those that don’t -- do.

A son asked his father:
"Is the mind a closed system?"
"Only a particular type of system would
ask such a question," he replied,
(an observation that would dot the final "i" 
in a more alert galaxy.)
Tip Of The Day: Why not brighten up YOUR world?!
and most of six billion people asked: "Which one?"
revealing the unlikelihood of them ever doing so.
If you do not recognize which planets in your
solar system can be re-orbited and which cannot,
all that you can do is DREAM about space travel.
The sleeping and awake alike dream,
but the distinction is that the awake do not dream about the sleeping.

"Daddy, must I dream of myself?"
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

The way you feel colors the thoughts you have,
as feelings will often get into the bloodstream, 
and reach the brain, 
making the cerebral cortex feel just YUCKY!

Here’s the funny thing:
Not only does the way you feel below the cortex
affect how it thinks,
but what it thinks can affect how you feel below the brain.
   “No it can’t!”
Yeah……..I guess you’re right.
   “No I’m not!”
Yeah……..probably not.

Question: How does reading this make you feel?
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

On one world they believe that every thought 
is a separate living creature,
and that this is what makes merry go rounds,
go round,
and the mental world, hold together.

A man chasing after the front of a carrousel
wants certain systems held together as flimsily as possible.

       “Daddy, what holds me together?”
           “Muscles and ligaments.”
        “No --  not THAT me.”
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

The ordinary and the knowing alike go in doughnut shops,
the difference is that the ordinary become hypnotized with the
fillings while the knowing swallow the whole doughnut,
and never give it a thought.
Neural indigestion, (technically, “being asleep”),
is caused by taking the fillings seriously ---
as though they had some actual significance.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

In re the matter of unruly dog control:
If you will find a way to let go
things will go a lot better.

“Daddy, why can’t I seem to let go?”
   “’Tis because what you’re holding 
     is the thing you’re holding it with.”
“Wow!  Thanks Dad.”

Query: If the father’s response is the answer to every question, 
and the resolving of all problems,
then why is it not obvious, and easily correctable?
 --   Because 
       the thing trying to be seen
       is the thing trying to see it.
                  “Gee!  Thanks officer.”
                              My pleasure, Billy.

                                      Jan