A WHOOPER SWAN'S DIARY: 12/21/15

THE STORY OF JOHNNY WHOOPER SWAN We go to school trusting our parents. We meet a teacher there who stands up front with a big desk, and a pointer. She or he trains us in an authoritative manner. We attach mentally to a life long need for authority in order to live lives successfully. Right so far? In my case, at the age of 25 I was ready to enter the practice of law where I hoped for success and a happy life finally. Very shortly, very shortly, I became anxious. There was a foreboding. I was made more uncomfortable with each experience. Law work is nothing like what I was told it would be. The system is corrupt. But I still cling to my expectation that career success is necessary to my happiness as a man. Each day my grasp of what the fuck success amounts to after all becomes more clouded, murkier. I hear songs on the airwaves and at concerts which describe my life as the life of a fool. What am I becoming? I want to rip off my business suit to run naked in the street with my hair on fire! But I am too afraid. In strange, weird (weird comes from a word meaning wise), fragmented steps I go about a journey of my own believing myself to be the first man to have failed in such a total way which journey works so as to break up my career, end a marriage, and start an entirely new way of relating with my two children whom I love deeply. Almost magically I meet a woman who is a career counselor who asserts a beautiful message that I am made to be joyful in my work everyday and at all levels. This understanding sets me on a completely new course. It is no longer a world of systems to me but an undivided one of unlimited beauty. It reminds me of a painting. A true masterpiece. I am drawn from within to learn the truth about my identity and nobody else can teach me that. From this point onward I will use thinking capacity for mastering mechanical processes and follow my heart, which includes my whole nature, which includes your whole nature and that of every human being for all the rest. I’ll go by the name Johnny Whooper Swan who does not explain itself to anyone. By my fruits shall I be known. Watch me soar!

Monday, December 21, 2015

ANY 'OL RAINCLOUD

If I see a bird in flight, and imagine it to be free, what is it about me that is being shown that I might see if I but had the eyes to see? Bob Dylan asked when a boy, “Are birds free from the chains of the skyway?” (Ballad in Plain D)

I want to see like that.

What person sees something else as “free”?

Someone who is searching for it?

Who searches for freedom?

Is it a free person or a slave who searches for it?

Come on, you know.

Ask yourself this:

If I work a job that does not resound with the chimes of my soul and see a man with a better job who looks happy to me what all does it tell you about me? Are you following along?

Ask, then, this question of yourself:

If you have a wife or husband that disapproves of you and you see a couple who look like they are in love and happy about it, what does it tell about you? About the quality of your vision? Needs a correction, I think?

I have been trying to tell of something that cannot be grasped; so, why have I bothered you with that at all? Do you wonder even? Or, do you know already?

Who grasps for something but the one who does not have what it is he/she wants?

If I am not happy, and know it, and someone tells me of a guru who is happy and I search for the guru who is happy in the hope he will tell me how to be happy what am I showing myself?

It occurs to me, and thus I am moved to write this down, that any search means I believe my own Creator to be inept or foolish.

There is only one thing I would wish for another: that, that person not miss the grand obvious.

Like the hole in a donut; there is a dark hole of the soul that is alien to one's thought patterns. What are our thought patterns except dreaded concern for some respectable way of life to bring us success and hoped-for joy?

The saddest cry comes from down in the belly all day and all night from a place we dread falling into. The “Falling -In Place” is where a lost person is found, but, by none other...

I once sat on a rock in the desert mountains and prayed to be free. My own voice asked, “Are you not free?

My own voice, I tell you!