There are two futures: the primary, physical one and man’s second, inner one, and if you are concerned over the latter, you can always get a job and collect possessions.
Nothing, for instance, is more essential to a proper love of the gods than the right icons; we know that st. nick exists because of the presence of presents.
“Pa pa, how does the awakened man know that anything exists?”
    “Who said he does.”
All oking jaside: Only Consciousness knows undoubtedly that it exists  –
only consciousness  –  and do you not from that fact feel there is something
even more expansive to be extracted?
Nothing but consciousness knows without a doubt that it exists:
something that one cannot see, touch or prove exists in anyone else:
what shall we call such?  –  a prank?  –  perhaps an unmarked carnival attraction?!
 
 

Little things mean a lot  –  if you have a little life;
big things mean a lot if you have no life.
 
 

4 Facts (Actually 2….Maybe Just 1).
If you are to be sold on another human the most important thing is to be pre-sold.
There is nothing more essential in man’s second-reality than advertising.
People accept that they think and feel as they do due to specific, individually-directed influences (from their parents, church, etc), but this is not so:
it is man’s collective mind that does the job.
You are not fully awake as long as you believe your sleep was a personal matter.
 
 

There is a difference between the primary, silent world and man’s verbal,
secondary one, but all it really amounts to is the ability to say that there is a difference.
(And in one realm there is no such phrase as: “but all it really amounts to is.”)
 
 

Those impressed by statistical comparisons deserve it.
 
 

If you do not have your own private, personally developed vocabulary you use in dealing with yourself, you are  conversing with a semi-stranger.
It is of no consequence to be demi-literate with others, but with yourself, communication must be on a much better level.
 
 

Proverb Update.
One man’s poison is only half as costly as two men’s.
 
 

A tale is told around some campfires of a neural rebel whose thinking worked at such
a fevered intensity that mind-altering drugs trembled at the very sound of his name.
(Later generations also recounted stories concerning his son who, in carrying on
the family tradition, reached such a pitch that he trembled at the sound of his name.)
 
 

Tip For The Day.
If a rhino answers –  hang up.
 
 

Looking up from the book in his hands, the kid asked:
“This writer says that the best humor is always unconscious  –  what gives?!” –
and the ole man replied:
“Many people sense there is another unidentified level to things that make them laugh, but they do not know what it is, so  –  what the hell: they call it: unconscious.”
 
 

The more you think about someone  –  the better you can dislike them.
In the first reality the best you can do is kill people  –  but in the second, Whoa Nellie!  –  all restraints are off!
A truly civilized consciousness would rather be spat on than disparaged;
a truly awakened one doesn’t give any notice to such stuff.
 
 

In the city you are an enlightened holy man if you say you are;
it doesn’t mean anything  –  but still you are.
 
 

Regarding man’s collective mental machinery, says one chap:
“If its sheer quantity doesn’t get you, its total lack of quality will.”
 

On The Road With Others.
Two men in a leaky raincoat can get just as wet as one.
 
 

As the ole sorehead and his kid prepared for the big-parting, the elder hugged him,
and sobbed: “And don’t forget: don’t write unless it’s to complain.”
 
 

Yet another fellow’s definition of a favorite subject:
“Being civilized is being able to truly say: ‘I’m sorry’ and not mean it.”
 
 

A D.I. at one rebel camp told a fresh recruit: “Right now the difference in how you normally think and the way appropriate to the rebellion is whatever you imagine it to be, but be well advised: you presently are incapable of imagining what the actual difference is.”
 
 

Once, Captain Irony was heard singing to his self: “Oh, I can’t lose with the stuff
I use,” and when a young admirer asked him exactly what that stuff might be,
he replied: “Why everything my boy! – everything.”
 
 

An enlightened bird will only eat the same seed once.
 
 

To the truly radical mind: the more difficult something is to identify --
the easier it is to spot.
To Life: what is more obvious than the Universe  –  and more subtle than consciousness  –  yet to which does it turn for assistance in survival.
A person who does not understand that all there is to look-to is their own consciousness  –  has no one to look-to,
(oh, they can certainly pretend they do                            but they know they don’t).
 
 

An awakened bird will only eat only seed he has grown.
 
 

And this email just in:
“I believe that everything printed in your Daily News was either written
five thousand years ago  –  or else earlier today.
Most Sincerely,”  etc.
 
 

One man would agree to being shot only if it took place outside a prestigious address.
 
 

On one world, the Rule Of Thumb is: “Take care of your thumb.”
 
 

Most men find it difficult to be an idiot both at home and away;
why be restricted?!
 
 

The good glue needed by the nervous-system-rebel requires that the user himself already be half sticky.
 
 

Whenever he is ready to begin a new novel, one author will first type on a blank sheet of paper: “The End”– then lay it aside (just so he’ll know that it’s going to end well).
(One quite normal man says his consciousness doesn’t like to read the stuff daily presented here  –  can you blame it?)
 
 

In city elections: always vote for the man with the most clichés.
 
 

One day this one local reality said to the creatures in its charge:
“You will not believe what I am going to do next,” and one guy mused:
“Hell –  I still don’t believe what you last did!”
 
 

Apparently as some sort of sick-joke the god in charge of one local reality
adopted as his new policy: “Hey – don’t ask me!”
 
 

One man keeps all the really neat thoughts he has on Sundays (his one day off)
in a special file.
One kid asked his ole man if he could re-name the family tradition:
“The Re-Awakening Of Language.”
    Adage Update.
    Many are called  –  that’s why there’s so many milling around here.
 
 

Neural kings must sit atop shaky-thrones or else the land will stagnate.
Only earthquakes are dependable; sacred oaths?  –  forget about it.
Recognizing an ally from the irrelevant requires a clear comprehension of man’s twin realities.
Those with only a home in Buda or Pestnever fully realize what Hungary is.
(Remember that place previously reported on wherein the man who awakens
is known as: He-who-has-left-the-table?)
 
 

One father said to his son: “Lad: a dictionary can be your friend  –  if however,
it is your best friend, then you probably have more problems than you do words.”
One boy keeps only his right foot in his right shoe and his left in his left;
(knowing which sole your butter’s spread on can be highly useful).
 
 

No one likes to respond to questions they do not know the answer to.
(Well, nobody but the certain-man in super-private.)
 
 

People of ordinary consciousness are quite easily confused,
(but it takes even simpler stuff to confuse the rebel.
“Keep going  –  when you get down to the proper level of imbecility,
I’ll let you know.”)
 
 

Calling down the complete wrath of Captain Irony won’t do you any good, for if it fell on a situation, nothing would appear to have occurred.
Routine Hungarians who go back & forth from Buda to Pest never feel they’re going round in circles.
(This is why words must constantly be re-enforcing the imaginary markers
on second-reality’s roadways.
“How can you tell where you are going or what progress you are making
in this inner realm if you do not tell yourself.”