In a land where metaphor threatens to absorb reality, and two and three flee in the face of higher dimensions, there is where the few are always found to have made temporary camp. The key word in reference to all transcendental travel locations is “temporary" (that and every other word uttered thereabout).

Sports News: The Mental Soccer League
on this one planet was dominated by two powerful teams;
the "Tell-Me-All-About-It Tigers," and the
"You've-Got-It-All-Wrong-Let-Me-Straighten-You-Out Seahawks." (At one time there was a third team who battled for supremacy, but at the full league's urging, it was eventually banned from competition. They were known as the
"Keep-It-To-Yourself Clamdiggers," and what a potent threat they posed! If only you could have seen them in their prime!)

So mused another mystical stable hand,
"Why work to break a wild stallion
when you can just turn him loose?"
(with the same result in our case)

Out On The Highway:
The simple enjoy blowing their horns,
while the sophisticated enjoy reproving the simple for their horn blowing,
with the additional satisfaction of congratulating each other for their enlightened condemnation.

Moral: If you're gonna tailgate somebody, get behind a man with no horn.

In one land it was decided that no one could speak on a matter publicly in which they had an interest in the audience's response.
It turned out that only a mystic could be allowed to speak publicly (and of course they wouldn't have much to say).

Those who know The Secret are like (redux):
Men in glass houses with
glass houses inside of them.

If you can rouse a mystic from his sleep,
he's no longer a mystic.

Nothing:
What you say when you care enough to say the very best.