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!

Saturday, February 25, 2017

If you have not read Chapter 1, scroll back to yesterday's post and read it first please

Apart, Chapter 2

Another thing about being bought- it happens damned fast and it is practically impossible to detect and correct. People become radical slaves to football teams for example. That is correct. People move from Seattle to Dallas and to Atlanta living in all three places then finally land a position in Pittsburg where they become devout Steeler fans and buy all the merchandise that corporation will sell to them that they might feel justified as created beings. So clever is the process it is never even mentioned. It appears to be taken for granted.

I watched a movie where a family of daughters is being placed with respectable bachelors in marriages they want not to be in to be wives and bear children for a lifetime of service and in the background WWII arises, flares, and extinguishes many of the men. In the film nobody winds up happy. No one sees that marriages and wars are the same. I would offer that one cannot have a war unless one first marries someone. Marriage is the name for a certain type of purchase of both parties. In fact, all of these attempts to manufacture a feeling of belonging are always going to be as a practical matter a sellout on both sides. I once heard a wise man tell it that from the point of view of a Martian, for example, watching a Marine drill instructor discipline a bunch of recruits it would be logical for the alien to think the instructor who yells and threatens at the top of his lungs is begging the others to please do what he wants of them. Everybody is bought, in other words.

People adopt careers for themselves from a prepared list handed them like assignments handed to the inmates of a work camp. Once at work, people quickly require of themselves a duty to report on a schedule not their own and to do work they do not like and to do it in ways they are told they are supposed to do it. They buy things advertised to them as appropriate at prices that keep them tied to their posts like helpless, frightened prisoners.

Musicians in a band ride on buses to gigs booked on a schedule prepared by agents who sell tickets and expect everyone to show up on time and perform on cue. These same kids never once cleaned their room at home. How quickly the change just to please others who are using them to grow rich themselves and who care not whether it kills the performers. Do you believe for a minute that was the dream of the young musicians? (These same musicians blame others for the evils of the world and sing about it on stages all around the world.)