Jan Cox Talk 0361

Scoreboard?  What Scoreboard?

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Summary by TK

Jan Cox Talk #0361  - Jul 1, 1988 - 1:09
 [Kyroot to :09]
 [Complex 'systems' of mystical endeavor completely tie up the attention, which pre-empts the Real Method: Look Around. Any real method depends on operating at 'top form' --optimum performance level. Since everyone is already operating at peak efficiency for Life at the ordinary level, the Real Revolutionist’s top form is at another, unmeasurable level of excellence. If you can measure improvement in yourself according to any ordinary standard-you are not operating at Real Revolutionist primo forma. ]
 [Revolutionary stages of sight: material reality; metaphor; material reality renewed.]
 [The Real Revolutionist should be attempting to live out all pertinent ordinary religious ideas in his own nervous system. Make the "lion lay down with the lamb" in his own Nervous System. "Give birth to new man"; "be like our father"; etc. ]
 [Life uses man as its "project" —just as he is the onlooker wondering what is going on behind the project fence as well. ]
 [1:09 Epilog. Is This Thing a "what to do" or "what NOT to do”?]
 [1:12 end.]


TRANSCRIPT

Transcript - Jan Cox Talk 0361
SCOREBOARD?  WHAT SCOREBOARD?
Copyright (c) Jan M. Cox, 1988
Document:  361, GSIBM, July 1, 1988
                    
     People  everywhere  believe that there is available  certain information  which will enable them to do something  spectacular, whether   to  trim  fatty  thighs  or  gain  higher   states   of consciousness.   But  notice what Life does.   Life arranges that there is always available some kind of specific  template.   That is,  some  apparent system such as "religion," "metaphysics,"  or "mind  improvement."   And these systems and methods  are  always very  precise.   Do you get a glimpse as to why?   What if I told you that This does have a system (and it's as good as any) called "The  Look  Around Method"?   Do you realize that  Life  normally produces  these  very  specific methods to keep  you  from  doing exactly that?  If someone happened to stumble in here and express some interest,  and I told them that the method is to simply Look Around,  the  person  would say,  "That's  too  simple.   I  want something  good."  And what Life normally provides is  "something good."   Something to study,  in other words,  so that you  won't succeed.   The  more  complex the system and the harder it is  to comprehend,  the  more people are assured it is  something  real.  And  so  everybody  who thinks they are  interested  prepares  to buckle down.   And the longer they study the book,  listen to the words, and eat the maps, the more they are kept from using such a foolish and superficial "method" as the Look Around Method.  They would say,  "I want something real to do.   Don't tell me to just look around.”
     To continue with my descriptions of a Revolution:   there is another  way you can look at what it means to be a Revolutionist.  What you are attempting to do is to operate at top form -- "primo formum" -- no matter what you are doing.   Even if you are  doing nothing,  do  it in absolute top form.   Not slack-jawed or  dull eyed;  not looking "peaked and poorly," as they say in the South.  And  not  having any conversation about what you are  doing.   No prologue  and,  god forbid,  no epilogue.   Otherwise you  cannot operate at top efficiency.
     How  is there any connection between the actual  performance and  a prologue or epilogue?   There is none.   You can  talk  to yourself  about  running before you run,  and you can  rate  your performance when you get back, but it has nothing to do with what you  actually did.   There is a way in which all of This is about operating in top form.   But you must have a new understanding of it.   There is another level of top performance.  What all humans at  City  level  consider  their best  (including  you)  is  shit compared to This.   Because everybody does their best.   So what?  It is not a rationale, either.  Everyone is doing their best, and everyone  individually knows it.   If I held you down and  pistol whipped  you  as Freud intended,  you would have  to  admit  that despite  your apparent flaws and shortcomings,  all your life you have  done  the  best you could.   Boy,  is  that  a  revelation!  Everyone knows it about themselves, but not about everybody else.  They  are idiots and philistines.   They are not doing  the  best they can or you would not be surrounded by dullards. 
     You  must  have  a new definition of primo formum  to  begin with.  That is the itch which you can't scratch -- you need a new definition because you are already operating at peak  efficiency, no  matter who you are.   But this new level of top form operates in  an area where the game is unknown.   You need  to  understand that  this level cannot be properly measured by any such standard as outcome,  conclusion, or scoreboard.  There is no way to score This.  None.  There is no way to measure it.  And if you've heard it described,  what you heard was nothing.  And if in any way you feel  that  you can judge your improvement -- that  is,  you  are becoming  a better person by some City standard -- it is a  waste of time.   You are playing the same old game, because there is no way  to  measure This by ordinary standards.   It  is  just  your nervous system making the same old noise.
     In other words, only the Revolutionist himself keeps, knows, and understands the secret agenda.   Only you can know if you are operating  primo  forma.   And  if you talk about  it,  the  peak efficiency has decreased.
     Once it happens, you understand that nobody else knows.  And whatever  you think the score is going to be if you  succeed,  it won't be.  That scoreboard is not even valid.  If you ever get in this game, you are going to look around and find yourself in a 4-D stadium with no scoreboard.   And you'll understand it.   Then, as far as you know, there is only you and me in the stadium.  Who the  hell  is  going  to run the scoreboard  if  there  was  one?  Nobody.   Where are the judges and the referees?   Nowhere.  Life is not arranged for there to be any kind of widespread scoring of This.
     I  want  to  pick up another little  piece  of  something  I touched  on recently.   It has to do with a kind of ever-changing Revolutionist  sight.   Since  I  am  now  using  the  term  "The Revolution"  as  a  map  for This,  take  that  for  an  example.  Consciousness,  hearing that term for the first time, immediately takes it as a one-word description for reality as it is.   People accept  it  as being a material  reality.   A  little  later,  it strikes a person as being a metaphor.  (Bear in mind that I could have  called it "The Struggle," or,  "The Road."  We are  talking about changing sight.)  But then,  with increased expansion,  the really  good part is the third step:   you go back to seeing  the Revolution as being reality.   It is like reality renewed; and it is not simply a ride on a merry-go-round.
     It  is  not  that a Revolution initially  sounds  materially true,  then  sounds like a metaphor,  and then sounds  materially true again.   Not "again" -- renewed.   It is then a new order of reality.  It is then no longer a metaphor.  If it was a metaphor, ultimately we'd be dealing with a great  template:   "Yeah,  well anything  to  quit  dealing with life...I want  to  do  something extraordinary."  In other words,  "I want to do something to keep from  having  to  live.   I want to phone my life  in.   Give  me something  to work on which will lead me nowhere."  Ah,  to  read the  holy  book or the remembrances of  the  teacher...it's  like sliding in to home base and dealing with a blind umpire.   You're safe.   You'll  be  dead before you understand the  system.   But between  here  and  there you have a hobby;  and  you  can  score yourself besides.   And obviously, someone else will periodically rate  your progress as well.   That is the sequential  nature  of life  in  the City.   But you have to see that the reason of  the Bush  is  the real reason.   The ultimate reason.   There  is  no sequential description of This available,  and there is no way to measure it.
     This changing sight from "material reality" to "metaphor" to renewed reality takes place in you.   If it does not, you are not in  the Revolution.   It is as real as looking around.   Much  of what I say at times sounds insane, but you look around six months later and,  "Good god!   It's true, then it's a metaphor, and now -- hell,  it's  true!"   And the renewed reality of it  does  not negate the fact of the first two stages.  It was metaphorical and still  is.   Just  because things appear sequential  to  ordinary consciousness does not mean that "what was" has now  disappeared.  If it has, I'd like you to tell me where it went.
     Something  else  about  the Revolution.   In  a  sense,  the Revolutionist  is  attempting  to  actualize  all  the  pertinent religious  ideas of history in his own nervous system.   I'm  not speaking of little rules about not eating bologna on Tuesdays.     Take  for example an old line out of the  Bible:   "The  day will  come  when  the lion will lie down with  the  lamb."   Does everybody understand that that day will never come?   Lions can't even  lie  down  with other lions.   What the nervous  system  is dreaming of is something else.   But in the City,  people believe paradise would be where lions no longer kill fluffy little sheep.  Cannot be.   Will not be.  Not in the 3-D world.  What that would be is destruction.   If it were possible, why would there already be opposing forces?  Why would there be the eaten and the eaters?  If  two  people  dance,  one  of them  has  to  dance  backwards.  Somebody has to eat,  and somebody has to be eaten.   If  nothing else, simply look around:  that is the way it is. 
     But what you are attempting in This is to make the lambs and the  lions of your own nervous system lie down together.   That's it -- there is the secret.   That is what is possible.   Go ahead and take it as metaphorically as you want.   But it is not simply a  metaphor.   If so,  all of This would have a template,  and  a bible, and a specific measurable direction.  All of This would be bull shit.  Or bologna, according to how sensitive you are.
     You  are attempting to make the very forces which  hold  the dance  together,  live together.   Those very forces at 3-D level keep  the  necessary  tension in  Life.   There  must  be  strong cellular walls;  there must be one group who hollers,  "Sports is my   life!,"  and  another  group  screaming,   "Sports  is   for uncivilized   dumb  asses!"   And  another  group  (normally  not accounted  for in the same breath) who could not care less  about either side.   There must be that tension.   There must be  lions and lambs:   there is no way out,  except destruction.   That is, for  the  3-D universe to collapse.   In the City it is  believed that someday we will all lay it down and there will be peace  and quiet;  C and D Force will lay down together.   You'd better hope not.   It will all stop if that happens.  The clock will have run out.
     Within  your own nervous system something else is  possible.  It  is unnatural.   It is to take C and D Force and to make  them live together.  It is to take one and one and get three.
     Rather  than  sticking with the religious idea of the  lambs and  lions,  what about these ideas -- scattered  throughout  all religions  of the world -- that a man must be born again?   It is not singular to the Christian religion.   In the City it is taken literally in some cases.   That is,  someone was literally killed and  came  back  to life.   That is  3-D  impossible.   It  never happened, and it's not going to happen tomorrow.  That is not the way  Life  is arranged.   But in your  nervous  system,  that  is exactly what you are attempting to do:   to give birth again.  It is  unnatural  and  unnecessary,  and it is for a  mutant  strain within  Life's body.   (Some of you belong to a  certain  genetic stream.   In  a  sense  you and I and some of  these  others  are related closer than you and your parents.  It is not in some kind of sham "let's all hug each other" way, either.  There are mutant strains  of  genes  which keep popping up.   That  was  the  case historically  when  a  few people seemed to make a  bump  in  the memory  of Life in Man.   The people involved might not have like each  other  all that much,  and they did  not  necessarily  live together.   But  at  another  level  they had  a  mutant  genetic similarity which they did not have with their parents.  It is not superior to blood relationship; it is in another direction.)
     You are attempting to give birth to yourself anew.   You are attempting to abandon that which is already you,  and to get  out of  the genetic lifeline in which everyone is born -- what I have been  calling "born in the City."  And it is not a struggle  with "me" to make "me" better.   It is not to crucify  yourself.   You aren't worth crucifying.  The City self is not good or bad; there it is, and it has to breathe.  It has to carry you.  What you are attempting is to give birth, not to a new person, but to parts of the  nervous  system  which  are laying  there  not  being  used.  (Actually,  they  are being used,  or I wouldn't be here and  you wouldn't  be  able to hear it.   But it's at a right  angle  from here, in a different time zone.)  It is not giving birth to a new person.   You  are still you.   It is subtle beyond  belief,  but ordinary  consciousness takes "subtle" to be something real.   If you had your choice,  would you rather be subtly rich or  grossly rich?   In the City everyone says,  "Well, grossly..." -- because subtle doesn't mean much.  They don't understand.  It is a subtle change in the nervous system.   It is quite real, and it is quite metaphorical,  and  then ultimately,  (just before you die at the very least) you realize it is just material as hell.   "No wonder I couldn't find a book on it.   No wonder he never would or could say exactly what it was:   it wasn't funny-money.  It wasn't some kind  of philosophical template.   It wasn't a  system.   It  was fucking reality:   that's why you can't talk about it!"  But it's reality that doesn't exist yet.
     Another  pertinent  religious idea is that we all should  be like our father -- our source.   Think about that.  Of course, it ends up as an old man with flowing hair painted on black  velvet.  But  what do they describe?   What do they say are the attributes of our source?   I'll tell you what they describe:  two inches up past where construction has been stopped on that freeway in  your nervous  system.   And what you are trying to do in This is to go that  two  inches further.   A Real Revolutionist can stay  in  a closet and tell you what our source is like.  All he has to do is get  the nervous system going,  and there it is.   There is  this generation's god.  There is the next generation's god.
     As  long  as I'm here,  let me pull out my story  about  The Project.  I have never fleshed it out and finished it, but I told you  enough.   It was about a group of people who buy a piece  of land somewhere which can be easily seen.  First they put up a six foot fence complete surrounding two or three acres.   A six  foot fence,  so those outside can't see over it.   Maybe they put up a sign:   "The  Project."  And from inside the fence they make sure there's always a lot of steam,  smoke, and dust coming out -- and a lot of noise.   There is a gate visible through which travel is going in and out.   No press releases,  no parties, and the mayor is not invited.  But every week passers by notice this much:  the fence is up another foot or so.   Still smoke, and maybe a little more noise.   Then a couple of weeks later,  the fence is higher.  And it goes on and on.   The sign gets bigger,  of course:   "The Project.”
     Now, can any of you see that in a sense Life has used Man as being its Project?  But in an astounding manner:  Man is not only the  fence  and the sign,  he is simultaneously the  passers  by.  Both.   Man apparently has the ability to stand aside and look at himself -- The Project -- and wonder,  "What in the hell is going on?"  But in the City, if they followed it far enough, they would say  that  The Project represents the great  religious  "Secret."  That is, "the inexplicable nature of god."  They'd miss it.  They have no choice.   Because in the City you're not supposed to  see this kind of absurd reality.  Man, individually and collectively, is  both  the  passerby who wonders what is  going  on,  and  The Project itself.
     The  City  would  say  that that  can't  be,  and  that  I'm obviously  speaking metaphorically:   Man is either the  passerby wondering  about  the secret,  or he is The Project on which  the gods or the fates are working.   If you say so.  Go deal with it, and  tell me what you get out of it.   Or do you want me to  save you  the  time?   Nothing.   You might as well believe  in  Santa Claus.  You might as well believe that if you see a big fence and a  sign  saying  "The Project," something is  actually  going  on inside.   You  can be assured of this:   the fence keeps  getting higher.   The sign keeps getting bigger to fit into some kind  of apparent  relationship  and ratio to the size and height  of  the fence.  "Yeah, but something's going on in there.  It only stands to  reason.   Why  else would somebody keep building  this  fence higher?  Why all the dust and noise coming out?"  People going by never  know.   Never.   They  do know that there is a sign and  a growing fence.
     This cannot have any validity to ordinary understanding,  or everything would fall apart.   But for those of you who can avoid that  great  vapor-lock and let your mind cool off,  have  I  not simply described the nature of what people in the City ordinarily think of as being religious interest in the ultimate secret?  The supreme  mystery  which  cannot  be  understood?    And  do   you understand  the  beautiful arrangement?   As long as that is  how consciousness is made to believe,  the mystery is indeed forever.  And everybody remains convinced there is something in the  center of the mystery,  or else there wouldn't be a mystery.   "You mean there's nothing inside?  Just three or four guys throwing dust up in the air,  banging on pots and blowing whistles?   And it's the same four guys driving the trucks in and out?  In other words you are  saying  there is a sham of some kind?"  I did not say  that.  I'm speaking for City consciousness.
     By the way,  it's no more a sham than you are,  to give  you some hope.  I didn't want to leave you feeling pessimistic.