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!

Sunday, January 8, 2017

The Race Human

Can there be suffering when no sufferer is present? Does nothing suffer ever? Close your eyes. What if you open them to the discovery there are no humans, no human race exists? What if you knew somebody made that up and it acts like a veil that covers and distorts pure vision? Suppose you really did know that. In that case, what you saw as a three year old is true and what you have been trained to see since is false, malarky, or nonsense.

Once a three year old boy was given a gift by his parents of several new pairs of socks the parents intended to be worn on his feet. After the parents left the child alone with his new socks, the child saw a pair of scissors nearby and was delighted to cut the toes off the socks in a motion he had seen mother do often with scissors which he never had before tried out for himself. He was so proud! When the parents looked back and saw what the child had done to the new socks they cried out and suffered. “Why, did you cut up your new socks?” they cried. “Those socks cost us money!” The boy was so upset by the question and by his parents' suffering he knew not how to reply. Then, he suddenly knew. “Because I wanted to?” he offered in a question. And he began to sob himself.

Next, someone is seeing again. Clearly, now, one sees the idea of a human race has been creating its own sufferers where there are none. This leads to the realization that the thinking people (the ones who tell me with certainty what is what) are creating the suffering for which they are then researching the ideas book to find some cures. It's like they create jobs for themselves and a whole bunch of customers where there were none. A wise man once told us, “Nobody wanted a light bulb.” He looked around the room at each person and repeated more slowly this time, “Nobody wanted a light bulb.” What else could he do for us?

Think of a person suffering; ask me how come?
My answer is I do not know; but do know a thing one.
I know of a way suffering ceases to be.
Is that enough for thee?

Why did they call it the human race?
Is it because I am graded by my pace?

What if I stop running?
Just slow down and stop running for no reason?
Decide to relinquish any claim to a crown that winners wear?
Decide to go out without combing my hair?

Mosey over to join the losers. See what they are doing.

Who will take my place in the race? Who cares?



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