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!

Wednesday, June 8, 2016

I Am Serious



Here we are in this great puss pimple of a garbage heap hanging out with these freaks and we do not know what for,
saying everything else has got to go!
It happens.

Nobody knows why.
Suffocation perhaps.
One stands and is joined by

a few more.

Suddenly a movement is underway that no power on Earth can withstand. What was nowhere is the world's headquarters for a spell. What a spell!

And it is over.

Did anybody learn a thing? Not really. But somebody made another killing.

Fashion.


I am looking for another who sees what I see. Are you there? Out there? Anywhere? I am Billy the Kid's alias step brother. No credentials. I heard a minstrel who is different. Calling into a vacuum of dark cold space that was my heart until it warmed and began to ache for unknown existence in a language never heard before. It calls for anything but what is the current style of dress and conduct. Misconduct. It says any fashion will do. To accommodate everybody. There is a language in every language that is understood by all. There is a voice which sounds out souls. Souls are formless realities that give every form its such-ness. Like the dialog of a play does to actors. Do not confuse the symbols for the sincere dialog, a formless wave. Waves without form need love in order to make cookies we can actually eat. When we speak to another we wave their being. In ignorance, we wave it wrong and they retaliate. In truth, with a low voice, love's voce, we wave it perfectly. Harmony happens. I used the word love. Nobody knows what that means. It springs from the unknowable. To un know. A word that is unknown is fresh. Is always out of fashion. It is better left undefined for it is not its meaning we want but its unapprehended nonmeaning-ness which gives sight to sore eyes. I am wispy filament and I am serious.
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