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!

Tuesday, July 26, 2022

 We need to tell a new story, no, it is more deep than that, we need to cease the practice of telling a story altogether. The main character in the stories we tell is “My self”, a non-reality. That non-reality  is our ideal image. Or, our punching bag every time we fail to achieve that poor non-reality’s ideal image. Self is the source of constant internal conflict. Stories about it only strengthen the superstition it is real. Even if I purport to tell a story about another I am really telling only about my self. It is possible once caught in the illusion to tell a story that will end stories. Such a thing clears up a lot of confusion and wastage of time and energy. That, of course, results in a large pool of both energy and intelligence to make action pure and way more effective. The story that ends stories reaches into the realm of indivisibility. Attempts to divide or separate the indivisible are mental tricks that are tearing the world of man apart everywhere on Earth. When I tell a story I am observing something that is not separate from me. I am the observed. 


I learned recently the word "individual" for centuries after its origin meant "indivisible". Literally, that makes sense. What cannot be divided is individual. Suddenly, at a point a few centuries back it started to be used to mean  someone who has "separate" interests, aspirations, or needs. In other words, it has come to be used to divide the indivisible. It is separation of me from the rest of you and separation of the indivisible internally into many contradictory parts or aspects. That is really stupid. Man, that has caused more sorrow for humans than can be measured. Isolation is killing us. It can be ended.