There is unknown territory at both ends of the nervous system: at one,
the musky dark of the past and at the other, the glaring uncertainty of the future,
both of which ordinary men fear.
    The past is implanted in the lower regions of the nervous system and the activities normally pursued by psychiatry and religion are not able to achieve their stated aim of  undoing a man’s past  –  which would leave him blank.
His mental memory of prior times is the basis of his inner intangible self, and
a part of the continuing expansion of Life via his brain, and this process is not to be stopped or undone, or man his self will become undone.
    Ordinary men always diagnose their innate dissatisfaction to be something other than it is: they will pronounce it to be psychological traumas, professional problems, marital difficulties, economic tribulations, life-style maladjustments, etc. when it is simply a manifestation of the never finished condition of the upper level of his own nervous system: a matter of the Yellow Circuit being under continual construction.
 
 

There is hope-&-faith and there is trust: hope-&-faith are the natural results in human consciousness of ignorance  –  not understanding what Life is about  --
and is always dependent on verbal explanations;
trust is the counterpart in the man-who-knows and is a silent assurance that Life is unceasingly doing all it can to survive.
 
 

The more direct and expedient is a map, the less is its attraction;
little piece-meal maps apparently pointing to some particular problem-area
are what men ordinarily welcome.
 
 

The answer to every puzzler of:
“Why do men do such-&-such unsavory, questionable thing?”  is: habit --
the answer is always habit.
 
 

No thoughts that come automatically from normal consciousness are of value
to the certain man's aim, for they are of predetermined scope;
everyone’s inner suit is already sewn before they get into it and once they do,
they must conform to its fit, form and restrictions.
    (“Pa pa: is this why the nervous-system-rebel has anecdotally had the reputation
       of being an un unclothed wild man, and  are such stories metaphors for what you
       have just described?”)
 
 

Though certainly not apparent to men of routine consciousness, all human activity is at least obliquely directed at increasing Life’s chances of survival in this Universe.
 
 

Man’s unique human problems can never be solved in that they are his
ordinary consciousness.
 
 

Once men started running  --  they couldn’t stop.
 
 

Thought At Work (Employing As Usual: Hammer & Words).
One man continually put off purchasing life insurance, operating on the theory that
at any moment he could die and by stalling the purchase might thus save himself
a lot of money.
    (“You call that work!?”)
 
 

Those who can see can look into ordinary men’s eyes and perceive the emptiness natural to animals in captivity and under a tyrant’s control.
    (“I’m not sure I appreciate you talking about my nervous system in that manner…
       in fact, I’m not even positive that’s what you’re really talking about.”)
 
 

To his self, in advance, one man has admitted that his public self is a fraud  –
and that that is how it must be for him and everyone else to get by.
(Which certainly takes care of one sticky little matter, huh?!)
 
 

A potential sign of making headway is if talk about other people bores you,
and talk about you bores you TERRIBLY.
 
 

People with angry names are angry and people with stupid names are stupid,
and men with no names  –  have it made.
 
 

Positioning them both in front of a full length looking glass a father told a son:
“Waking-up is falling through the other side of the mirror.”
 
 

The secret clue to cracking-the-case is not in finding an answer,
but in exposing the question.
 
 

Once a man sees what is going on with life he may then (if he is so inclined)
entertain for a bit, one of the meaningless illusions of man’s intangible reality
with no lasting harm.
(AKA: He doesn’t inhale.)
 A hobby is not a real hobby unless it is just a hobby.
Though men believe the opposite, the fact is: if you try to explain why you like something, it can cause you to like it less.
 
 

Another unnoted fact: knowledge which ordinary men commonly share
is ultimately disconcerting  –  only one’s personal understanding is satisfying.
 
 

To enjoy the full range of the special investigator’s powers, a person must have been born with the inherent wiring potential to have been everyone:
every mortal type of nervous system transformer.
The man who discovers what is really going on is not his brother’s keeper  –
but something much, much deeper.
 
 

Dilettante detectives continually clamor for new clues
with no actual desire for the solution.
 
 

No system, including man, can conceive of itself from its own level,
and no system can be studied both as an object and a process,
and an answer to the question of: “So what can I do?”
is not available to those who have to ask.
The inner orient express must be well on its way to istanbul before a man can confront the fact that back in paris, his asking about which train he should board
is what kept him so long from boarding;
yes, while you are there, hearing this statement makes no sense,
yet it has a quite specific reality.
    “So Pa Pa: while you are still in that stage of uncertainty,
      is there anything you can always profitably do?”
“Yes, stick your nose into every single piece of business your automatic-consciousness has.”
 
 

All forms of creation require the destruction of some already established form,
and the so-called evils of mortal life can be viewed as a natural after-effect
of the original creation, and ThisKindaActivity can be seen as the certain man’s
private inner attempt to carry forward creation in him by the destruction of
the present form of consciousness in him.
 
 

The unrealized clue to solving-the-mystery is not in overcoming a foe, but in understanding man’s natural sense of mental resistance.
 
 

Once the real aim of this investigation becomes clear to a man it is no longer an effort to make a quickened figure from a sleeping blob, or to set a captive figure free,
but is realized to be an endless enterprise dedicated to producing an extended-process from a limited-system.
 
 

Since all maps are inanimate sketches, the cartographer must be available to furnish the needed living-breath-of-meaning, or else the maps will become but additional markers in the graveyard of the lost.
 
 

Remember boys & girls: If you live in the city, the answer to all questions concerning the inner life of man is: Habit.
(And as long as you’re in the recalling mode, recollect this one also:
One man started running  –   and couldn’t stop  –   and Boy! was he glad!)
 
 

Ordinary mind uses words to create the illusion (and thus futile expectation) that alternatives in its intangible realm are possible  –   while the truth is just the opposite.
 
 

At the cutting edge of cracking-the-case, any clue you have already thought of
is useless,  and in spite of its first-blush insanity: when you see this aright,
it is the zenith of efficiency.                                                     Think about that.
 
 

All ordinary news is bad news  –  because it is from the past;
what further hint about mind does an adroit man need.
 
 

The man  in the know has no need for worry beads to placate nervous movements  –   he is aware of where a better version exists  –   inside his own skull.
 
 

The ordinary mind is made to be troubled; still waters are useless seas,
and the only systems at rest are undertakers on strike.
 
 

There is nothing sadder than a man who once ran  –   then stopped,
(but thankfully he won't be aware of it).
Those who believe that because the allegorical journey they adopted
promises to take them from X to Y means that there is nothing past Y
miss the best part of this entire adventure  –  the absolute BEST part.