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, July 25, 2022

 All troubles come not from who I am 

but from trying to be something I am not. That is a mouthful. 


It destroys controversy. And there are no ways that will work to bring about a cure from false life. Any effort to do so is bound to be the effort of the imposter I am not and only fortify its position as my identity. 


Ultimately, people have tried to attach the false self to a Higher Power also created by mental suggestion from other false selves to the false self. Notice how even organized religions are promising to send the false person to Heaven after the poor chap or gal dies. Some Heaven filled with false abstractions must be a strange place indeed.


This condition is so terrible it is tearing the world of human beings apart. For that reason it is a crisis. A crisis cries out for help. Save me!


Complete negation is a start. Seeing the trap I am in without the slightest effort to escape the condition is difficult for the greatest humility is required but it may be just enough so that the miraculous, (love it may be although the word has lost all meaning in a world of human machines) the fact of love, dissolves the false human machine mercifully in the present moment so the one who is living a conditioned life can know true existence, as it is, without calling it by a name or describing it as an observer expecting congratulations would do. The train to reality takes on board no pretend passengers arriving for another hoped-for pretend life. A still mind knows.

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