Late Night Thoughts (From a Writers Journal) Part I
Jann Burner
August 12, 2008
The Mind rules.
The brain is paint on the canvas;
Merely autumn color--a mouse in the grass.
The Mind is the eagle
Looking down on the mouse.
Mouse-brained man chases his chemistry
All over the field.
Eventually the eagle will close with mouse.
Man is grounded in his philosophical attitude towards reality. Man is not an animal grounded in reality who merely entertains the idea of philosophy; philosophy is a necessity! The world picture might be painted by the reality of survival but it is viewed, reviewed, and assigned value or dismissed by the ol' philosopher that lives within us all and sleeps in our heart.
The lust for money and all the fame and gain games combined are just distractions. Sooner or later each and every one of us must exchange all of our hardware and credit cards for a deeply felt personal philosophy that we've crafted with our own hearts and minds....There is no way out. Eventually the eagle will close with the mouse.
There is in the realm of man the frequency of Personality, the frequency of the Brain and the frequency of the Mind. Man is, above all things, of the frequency of Mind but he has fallen.
Personality is soap opera and "People Magazine". The Brain is the labyrinth of the intellect where the smarter ones become lost. It is also the starter engine that can grant access to the Mind where there is no time, no place, no past, no future and no death.
It is an inalienable right for each man, woman and child on earth to have healthy and unfettered access to the Mind. It should be in the preamble to the U.S. Constitution. At some time in the future we will look back upon the present strictures placed upon access to the MIND much the same as we look back upon the exploitation of children for cheap labor in the 19th Century.
The true condition of most people's lives can be best described as...situational living. On the whole it can be classified as neither good nor bad. For in the main it is merely predictable and...boring. But if it were to change (and the truth were known) they would surely miss it: miss the situation they find themselves in, for above all things the boringness is security and the predictability smells of home, and it is all their own. It is possibly all they have....
It is hard to change...very much. I continue to see the world filtered through a very personal set of prejudices and pseudo values. The vibrational zones and pockets of habitual conduct become so familiar and comfortable, even the most tenuous and aberrant become like warm old blankets that are permeated with my very own stench and of course, it smells like home.
Character is timeless. But we do not grow chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, sometimes in another. Sometimes there are whole dimensions in which there is little or no growth. It is a very uneven process. It is all partial and relative. We can be mature in one realm and quite childish in another. A genius in one world; an idiot savant in another; autistic in a third. The ego attempts to serve as a mixing board to all this input, hoping to be able to distill and mix out a commercially acceptable product. Something with a strong sound and a good beat; something you can dance to.
Seems to be a generation (or two) of hollow men and glitzy women who seem to be all surface and appearance. Scratch the surface and you hit bottom, or rather you hit the hollow interior, like a cheap chocolate Easter rabbit. Tasty, but not too nutritious and after all hollow in the middle! Money gatherers to the exclusion of all else including family and self. Large increase in teenage suicide could be a pointer that all is not well in Eden, in Happy Valley Estates. They call young people narcissistic, but I say they don't even know the meaning of the word or they would be really self-obsessed, with the world, the universe, themselves -like co creators; artists; like Godlings in training. Not like pop up ads and magazine spreads; it's so...silly. No adult role models, no humans on the horizon. The bureaucratic charge card plastic fantastic American presents an image of success and control but beneath this surface impression there are signs of serious strain and mental imbalance among the Three Button Brotherhood and the Pop Tarts.
And the saddest thing is that the kids are scared! They don't know, can't know, that there are a sizeable number of very intelligent, creative, conscious adults out there working away quietly, waiting their turn. The media ignores this, as if all the brightest and best have self-destructed or turned into computer game zombies. The kids don't know this is untrue and believe that they are locked in the world with the Death Toys and the Air Heads in three button suits. Glitzy women, hollow men, satellite television: the credit card mythology: America 2008.
An artist is a primary personality unable and/or unwilling to adopt the dominant ideology of his age. As a primary personality, the artist has an innate distrust of collective ideas and programs. From out of his conflict with the collective ideas of his age is born the tension which makes it possible for the artist to recreate or reinvent himself each morning upon arising.
In order to 'qualify' as a serious writer, a significant part of the person's mind and personality must be able to transpose, transmute and transcend. One must be able to transpose events as quickly as a professional musician transposes musical keys; transmute the gross into the ethereal as facially as an alchemist and in the end, transcend and become as centered as a Zen initiate. This is quite aside from being able to write at all.
As writers we tend to forget that we are explorers. This is NEW realization experience. We are pushing back the edges of the dream (my dream). Thus we need to keep track; take notes, keep journals, create art, tell stories. We need to talk, discuss, share. Too often we tend to take life as a given with a fixed program. Especially once we reach physical maturity, We often assume that the life experience is a game with fixed, rigid rules and all that's left is to compete and somehow win! We must guard against becoming fixed like a photograph in a dish of developer or worse, a bug in amber. The image coming through is never fixed, never ending. Life is not only heliotropic it is also holographic.
Sometimes, when I am within my rhythm, I can feel like an astral form exploring the geological stratificationīs within the earth. Often I feel as if I can reach down and within, deeper and deeper and trace the wisdom and imagery found at each level. But the deeper I look, the stronger and more intense the pressure. It is so much easier to merely describe the surface world and certainly less risk of getting the bends from the extreme pressures found at the lower depths. But it is addicting. The more you know, the more your vision can discern; the more valid and real you feel. The urge to shape, create and imagine is prime: to reach deep within and without at the same time is wonderfully fine.
Recently I feel as if my mind is beginning to mature after all these long, long years. I feel as if I can actually hold the entirety of an idea or concept within my mind's frame and revolve it around as if it were a holographic model. When I was younger it seemed as if I could only hold a small fragment of the model, although I could get flash images of the whole. In a sense the intensity was much stronger when I was younger but I suspect that this was because the initial flash seemed to braise, burn and brand the newly formed neural sponge that was my young brain. The rather abrupt return to relative darkness always left me with a sense of loss, and hence it tended to deepen the rush of the insight fix much the way a drug will deepen the intensity of everyday life while at the same time trivializing it.
Once the entirety of the metaphor or concept totally fell away from my mind's frame it seemed that all I was left was a very small fragment; rather like a cheap, mass produced picture post card of the exotic country I had just visited. From this fragment and from the recent memory I was forced to literally make up the original model as glimpsed in the initial flash of insight. This "made up" quality weakened my early writing and gave me problems for literally years and years.
Now I feel as though I no longer generate quite the passion and intensity of the early years and certainly the drug like rush is gone; but on the positive side I seem to have a much deeper and more serene sense of wonder. I feel much more grounded and this feeling allows me to literally hold the entirety of the holographic model within my mind's frame without fear of loss. I can view the idea, the moment of insight, the holographic model. I can walk around it and check it for detail on all sides, set it down (for years if necessary) and then pick it up again at will, and all the clarity and detail is still there. This knowledge seems deeper, more subterranean. There is deep certitude now.
I can make a mental note concerning a specific idea, set it aside and return to it months or even years later and it is still...warm. It seems as if now I am dealing with astral bodies and planets and suns and stars. No longer just a youthful presentation of rocket flash but more a coming together of interstellar space dust. Consciousness entering a vacuum, forming a "thought body", giving off its own little heat and light.
The brain is paint on the canvas;
Merely autumn color--a mouse in the grass.
The Mind is the eagle
Looking down on the mouse.
Mouse-brained man chases his chemistry
All over the field.
Eventually the eagle will close with mouse.
Man is grounded in his philosophical attitude towards reality. Man is not an animal grounded in reality who merely entertains the idea of philosophy; philosophy is a necessity! The world picture might be painted by the reality of survival but it is viewed, reviewed, and assigned value or dismissed by the ol' philosopher that lives within us all and sleeps in our heart.
The lust for money and all the fame and gain games combined are just distractions. Sooner or later each and every one of us must exchange all of our hardware and credit cards for a deeply felt personal philosophy that we've crafted with our own hearts and minds....There is no way out. Eventually the eagle will close with the mouse.
There is in the realm of man the frequency of Personality, the frequency of the Brain and the frequency of the Mind. Man is, above all things, of the frequency of Mind but he has fallen.
Personality is soap opera and "People Magazine". The Brain is the labyrinth of the intellect where the smarter ones become lost. It is also the starter engine that can grant access to the Mind where there is no time, no place, no past, no future and no death.
It is an inalienable right for each man, woman and child on earth to have healthy and unfettered access to the Mind. It should be in the preamble to the U.S. Constitution. At some time in the future we will look back upon the present strictures placed upon access to the MIND much the same as we look back upon the exploitation of children for cheap labor in the 19th Century.
The true condition of most people's lives can be best described as...situational living. On the whole it can be classified as neither good nor bad. For in the main it is merely predictable and...boring. But if it were to change (and the truth were known) they would surely miss it: miss the situation they find themselves in, for above all things the boringness is security and the predictability smells of home, and it is all their own. It is possibly all they have....
It is hard to change...very much. I continue to see the world filtered through a very personal set of prejudices and pseudo values. The vibrational zones and pockets of habitual conduct become so familiar and comfortable, even the most tenuous and aberrant become like warm old blankets that are permeated with my very own stench and of course, it smells like home.
Character is timeless. But we do not grow chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, sometimes in another. Sometimes there are whole dimensions in which there is little or no growth. It is a very uneven process. It is all partial and relative. We can be mature in one realm and quite childish in another. A genius in one world; an idiot savant in another; autistic in a third. The ego attempts to serve as a mixing board to all this input, hoping to be able to distill and mix out a commercially acceptable product. Something with a strong sound and a good beat; something you can dance to.
Seems to be a generation (or two) of hollow men and glitzy women who seem to be all surface and appearance. Scratch the surface and you hit bottom, or rather you hit the hollow interior, like a cheap chocolate Easter rabbit. Tasty, but not too nutritious and after all hollow in the middle! Money gatherers to the exclusion of all else including family and self. Large increase in teenage suicide could be a pointer that all is not well in Eden, in Happy Valley Estates. They call young people narcissistic, but I say they don't even know the meaning of the word or they would be really self-obsessed, with the world, the universe, themselves -like co creators; artists; like Godlings in training. Not like pop up ads and magazine spreads; it's so...silly. No adult role models, no humans on the horizon. The bureaucratic charge card plastic fantastic American presents an image of success and control but beneath this surface impression there are signs of serious strain and mental imbalance among the Three Button Brotherhood and the Pop Tarts.
And the saddest thing is that the kids are scared! They don't know, can't know, that there are a sizeable number of very intelligent, creative, conscious adults out there working away quietly, waiting their turn. The media ignores this, as if all the brightest and best have self-destructed or turned into computer game zombies. The kids don't know this is untrue and believe that they are locked in the world with the Death Toys and the Air Heads in three button suits. Glitzy women, hollow men, satellite television: the credit card mythology: America 2008.
An artist is a primary personality unable and/or unwilling to adopt the dominant ideology of his age. As a primary personality, the artist has an innate distrust of collective ideas and programs. From out of his conflict with the collective ideas of his age is born the tension which makes it possible for the artist to recreate or reinvent himself each morning upon arising.
In order to 'qualify' as a serious writer, a significant part of the person's mind and personality must be able to transpose, transmute and transcend. One must be able to transpose events as quickly as a professional musician transposes musical keys; transmute the gross into the ethereal as facially as an alchemist and in the end, transcend and become as centered as a Zen initiate. This is quite aside from being able to write at all.
As writers we tend to forget that we are explorers. This is NEW realization experience. We are pushing back the edges of the dream (my dream). Thus we need to keep track; take notes, keep journals, create art, tell stories. We need to talk, discuss, share. Too often we tend to take life as a given with a fixed program. Especially once we reach physical maturity, We often assume that the life experience is a game with fixed, rigid rules and all that's left is to compete and somehow win! We must guard against becoming fixed like a photograph in a dish of developer or worse, a bug in amber. The image coming through is never fixed, never ending. Life is not only heliotropic it is also holographic.
Sometimes, when I am within my rhythm, I can feel like an astral form exploring the geological stratificationīs within the earth. Often I feel as if I can reach down and within, deeper and deeper and trace the wisdom and imagery found at each level. But the deeper I look, the stronger and more intense the pressure. It is so much easier to merely describe the surface world and certainly less risk of getting the bends from the extreme pressures found at the lower depths. But it is addicting. The more you know, the more your vision can discern; the more valid and real you feel. The urge to shape, create and imagine is prime: to reach deep within and without at the same time is wonderfully fine.
Recently I feel as if my mind is beginning to mature after all these long, long years. I feel as if I can actually hold the entirety of an idea or concept within my mind's frame and revolve it around as if it were a holographic model. When I was younger it seemed as if I could only hold a small fragment of the model, although I could get flash images of the whole. In a sense the intensity was much stronger when I was younger but I suspect that this was because the initial flash seemed to braise, burn and brand the newly formed neural sponge that was my young brain. The rather abrupt return to relative darkness always left me with a sense of loss, and hence it tended to deepen the rush of the insight fix much the way a drug will deepen the intensity of everyday life while at the same time trivializing it.
Once the entirety of the metaphor or concept totally fell away from my mind's frame it seemed that all I was left was a very small fragment; rather like a cheap, mass produced picture post card of the exotic country I had just visited. From this fragment and from the recent memory I was forced to literally make up the original model as glimpsed in the initial flash of insight. This "made up" quality weakened my early writing and gave me problems for literally years and years.
Now I feel as though I no longer generate quite the passion and intensity of the early years and certainly the drug like rush is gone; but on the positive side I seem to have a much deeper and more serene sense of wonder. I feel much more grounded and this feeling allows me to literally hold the entirety of the holographic model within my mind's frame without fear of loss. I can view the idea, the moment of insight, the holographic model. I can walk around it and check it for detail on all sides, set it down (for years if necessary) and then pick it up again at will, and all the clarity and detail is still there. This knowledge seems deeper, more subterranean. There is deep certitude now.
I can make a mental note concerning a specific idea, set it aside and return to it months or even years later and it is still...warm. It seems as if now I am dealing with astral bodies and planets and suns and stars. No longer just a youthful presentation of rocket flash but more a coming together of interstellar space dust. Consciousness entering a vacuum, forming a "thought body", giving off its own little heat and light.
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