Ordinary mind is forever hungry --  but only for food it recognizes;
the few would rather starve to death.
 
 
 

Those on the trail of dung need no tracking assistance.
 
 
 

Ordinary mind is one of the universe's outstanding examples of a self fueling mechanism; neither a nova nor black hole be,
(‘cept in the case of the few).

     Here today and apparently here tomorrow --  but it is an illusion.
 
 
 

A man of clarified consciousness is either
(1) empty where others are full, or (2) full where others are empty.
 
 

The one prospect that the would-be-ers care not to hear more about is
the question: What exactly is the difference between:
knowing-what-is-going-on, and not-caring-what-is-going-on.
 
 

The faux knowers of the world are distinguished by their
knotted brows and underwear and nothing else,
(unless there proves to be a special afterlife refuge for
those in whom life placed an overabundance of fear hormones).

When the ethereal voices fueled by the juices speak to you of doom,
remind them that when you go  --  they go,
and pull some of your higher-ground neurons from the
overflow, headed-nowhere sludge
and you will have no interest any way in matters of coming-or-going.
 
 
 

In the university of life,
the required primary reality courses confer the satisfactions;
second reality activities are electives:
things to yack about over a pitcher of beer.
 

Hormones & primary reality are places of necessities;
off campus neurons & their second reality lives
are a never ending popularity contest.
 
 
 

Question: How can you spot a true NeuralKnight?
He is the one who, once fully engaged in TheQuest,
you cannot tell which way he is headed.

“Pa --  how do you know you are there when you get there?”
      “You no longer have such questions as that one.”
 
 

Hormones have no questions  --  which are the very ones
routine neurons spend their life trying to answer.

“Pa?”
    “Yes?”
“Sometimes I think I almost have it.”
    “Sometimes you do.”
“What happens?”
     “You start thinking about what it was that almost made you
      have it.”
 
 
 
 
 
 

“Pa?”
     “Yes?”
“Ain’t life a…”
     “Don’t say it son --  don’t even think it.”
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

The Choice Is Yours:
You can either: pick on other people --  or: pick on yourself,
either way will put you in the finals for the,  Mr. I Missed It title.
 

“Doctor, can you tell me what is wrong?”
    “Yes, but you would not hear me.”
"What?"

The Choice Is Yours:
You can either: listen to others --  or to the voice in your own head,
either way will keep you firmly on the road to success in TheCity,
(well, firmly on the path of dreaming about success).
 

“Pa --  did someone actually say that the great thing about
knowing-what-is-going-on is that you then do not care what is going on?”
    “Where do children pick up such astounding notions?!”
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

To exit neural CityLife one must be able --  from a dead stop --
to mentally jump --  flat footed --  fifty feet in any direction at any time.
 

When you are going no where, nothing --  nothing can stop you.
(This sentiment is sound & applicable only to those who have already distanced themselves somewhat from TheCity.)
 
 

“Pa --  why do you speak in metaphors and symbolism about:
hormones and neurons; and primary and secondary realities,
and about being in TheCity or out on ThePlains
instead of just saying directly what you mean?”
   “Do you understand now what I am talking about?”
“No, not fully.”
    “Well, you would grasp even less if I described things to you, plainly as they are.”
“How do you know?”
    “Because life does so constantly and you don’t get it.”
 
 
 
 
 

"Pa?"
     "Yes?"
“I’m sorry I axed.”
     “I know.”
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

And now for today’s grand prize:
Why, amongst the ordinary, do the few have such a shifty reputation?
 
                               Because they deserve it.
 

                                             J
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

...earn your degree at home.......alone........in your spare hormones.