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, February 16, 2022

 A Faithful Friend 


Think it over.  All laws are limited because they are made by the the motives of one man. A person who is called an outlaw may not be a lawbreaker at all, no, such a one may simply be existing outside the law’s reach is all.


Such a person taught the priests of his time and place that love trumps rules written-by-self-interested-hacks every time. And not because he said so but because he showed by his life that it is no sign of a healthy brain to become well-adjusted to a profoundly sick society. Even in death love rules. And then proved it. Proved that the time is bound to come in every life to verify beyond all doubt those very facts. But nobody has to await the moment of death…


While living, one can refuse to pretend to belong to what is not real and a society of less than all people is not real. And that is what death is- the place all of us are headed- is the place where it is no longer possible to pretend to be what is not real and never was. So death is a faithful friend that closes the door on chicanery. 


Every society is made by the conceptual design of those who would become rich and powerful at the expense of others. What lies behind any motive? Look. It is fear. All leaders are children of fear. When they fall they fall alone. See that and conquer the fear of death.


Listen to me children. A story I will tell ‘bout a brave young outlaw and whether you are boy or girl you should know him well; for he knows you better than you know yourselves and exists inside your bosom in such a formless way no fear of misfortune can alter or dispel-and is the medicine you need to free you from hypnosis, a false and e-vil spell. That’s right! I am here to sing to you notes that have the power to restore primal understanding and bring you home to meet the formless /as your self.


Once white people put black people into slavery. The slaves were smart. The slaves invented jazz to communicate secretly what was not allowed otherwise. But along the way it became more and more apparent that the jazz they invented was limited. Barrier after barrier has been challenged and broken through. A similar experience has occurred in all other human efforts to find alternative ways to speak to each other…combined as “art”. All have barriers. Now it is time we consider together the crossing over of the last and most intimidating barrier. Self interested thinking of every kind is that barrier. Look carefully into who or what controls and limits art? Ask: what is real that is not art?  Restore the whole of it.  



The art of waking up. The art of stretching muscles. The art of making coffee. The art of fixing breakfast. The art of making your bed. The art of being alert fully to every sensation without words. The art of sleep. It matters not who spells your name, you go to sleep 

Alone.


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