MEETING THE MAN IN THE MIRROR, 2

                 MEETING THE MAN IN THE MIRROR
                     
                                   2





          It is a  fact that Mind affects reality,
through neurons and sub-atomic particles
mind affects other minds...
          You know how a herd of wild gazelles
make rapid turns avoid the lion, and they
all turn together. They have some hidden
instinct or sense or ability.
          Same thing with a flock of birds.
You've seen them flying west, say, and all
of a sudden the lot of them are
wheeling south.
          It's the same with a school of fish;
they all swerve at the same time.
          We have that same ability,we just
don't use it these days...Or is that true?
Maybe we do use it without admitting it
to ourselves.
          Maybe its part of what we call
intuition. Then we write it off
and don't think about it.
           But this is an important ability.
We can use it to affect the world around us,
and  other people, too.

For example:

          Put two people in the same dark room.
Leave them there for a week. But every
few hours  a light is flashed on just one
of the men.
         Let them sit in the dark together
for quite some time...until they're
used to each other.
         Move one of the men to a distant location.
Let him sit in the dark some more. No lights
just as before. Only he is farther away.
         If you shine a light on one guy, the other
guy has the experience of a light going on.

         Scientists have done this experiment thousands of
times. They find it's almost always true; the man
across the country  sitting in the dark,
he senses the light going on.                                      **
          Mind affects mind, among people,
even at a distance.

         If  person A sees a certain 
reality,and   person B has similar experiences
and they get together and share their experiences...
A comes to have the same vision as B.
B agrees with A. 
        Their minds will start to work together.
Their minds start to  complexify  in the same 
 way of thinking, focus. 
         And person B
shares his insight with person C... and C
comes to see things the same way...
Well, these minds that think alike
 with shared experiences, they are roughly 
like the two men in the dark room.
              We have this telepathic hidden feature in the
back of our brains, our brains have billions
of processes going on all the time, and we are 
aware of something like 3% of the processes of our brain...


              A woman wakes up at 4:00A.M. and starts
to scream. She has a vision of a huge fire in the
mouth of a large hole in the ground.  She calls up
north.  Sure enough, the mine where her son
works has had a fire that started between 3 and 4 A.M...
and her son is trapped below in a cave-in caused by the
fire.
            She knew it! And nobody is surprised by this fact,
when this happens and she tells people about it. 
Whether we're aware of it or not, our society
more or less assumes that E.S.P. exists
in our minds during times of heavy stress
involving a loved one.
 
            A friend of mine died in the middle of the night.
I had a dream that he and I were in a limo, travelling
through an expensive neighbour hood   where we both
used to live.   The man was very happy in my dream.
It felt like we were having a party together. He was
happy to be driving with me and talking.
            I woke up.  Immediately I phoned his daughter,
and registered the time of my dream on her answering
machine.  I checked and, sure enough, he died just a
short time before I had the dream.
            We know telepathy is a fact, especially in times
of stress E.S.P. enters our lives. We're all aware
that things like these happen. We're not very
surprised when we hear about such things....
            
            Why then would we doubt that we have the
ability to instantaneously turn with the herd,
or like the school of fish?   And if we can do that,
all of a sudden we must see that mental processes
are some kind of energy, an energy  that is a physical force
in the "real world". the world that is external to us.

               If you are  studying sub-atomic
particles, you know that consciousness is not merely
some insubstantial wisp of nothing.
         No. Mind affects the physical world.
Mind affects the behaviour of particles
 invisible to the human eye, 
so much so that a conscious observer
must be figured into any equation describing
the happening.
         The particles behave differently when
someone is observing them.


          What do you think that means?


                         


                                         *


              I had another 2/3rds of this article. I
just lost it transferring it from one  site
to this one!
              Perhaps it was hubris my talking
about showing how science and religion
do not contradict one another, how they
hold hands, and go to the same dance
together, and dance to reggae music.
           JAH!
           Please excuse this half-finished article...
but if I don't post it,  lose it, too.
 Something's wrong either with my computer,
or the person who's operating it.
          There's a whole bunch more data
that applies to this discussion of the
mind as a physical force in the world.
I forgotten much of it, temporarily.  But
you know I'll the story back to you.
          
         I was going to bring Teilhard de Chardin's
no-osphere into this story.  What Teilhard says
is: "Matter inevitably complexifies into life.
Life inevitably complexifies into consciousness.
Small "c" consciousness inevitably blossoms
into large "C" consciousness.

Through this process - The earth comes to know itself.  
           

        As minds grow to full consciousness around 
this planet, as people come to know that 
Mind is the God they've always sought, 
many people will realize Mind together. 
            Mind is Buddha,Mind is Christ. 
Knowing the Mind of the True One is 
to reach the eternal.
          There is only one ultimate Mind, 
though there are many paths.
           It doesn't really matter what name
you give to Mind.

          In my realization,  I was thinking
in Christian terms. So I came to know
the Mind of Christ within me. And as I was
partaking of this Mind, I knew that this
is the Mind that never dies.
           Whatever you call it, this  is
the Mind that lives in the eternal,
is the eternal, the Mind that lives in
everlasting life. The Mind  that sees 
through death. Mind without beginning
or end.
           "Death, where is thy sting?"
This Biblical quotation applies to one who partakes
of Mind, of "Christ Consciousness". 
           I would never die either, so long as
I continued to see through the vision of this Mind.
           In one moment I knew this. It was like
a great implosion had occurred, with
a sound so loud I thought it could be
heard all over the city.
           No one heard a thing.

           In so far as my ego had died,
that's how far I would be able to 
partake in the Mind of God.

           God is Christ and
 Buddha is God, though the Buddhists
do not speak in these terms. They speak
of  "one suchness", or a Mind that is
"not two."
            I imagine Krishna is God, too,
though I am not so familiar with
the Hindu forms of expression.
            "I am he who is of the Same."
The Same and the All are attributes of
the One Who Is Creating Us.

             But here's the scientific fact
I wanted to mention, the scientific reality
I wanted to point out.
           As  small "m" mind becomes 
big "M" Mind, as this happens in more
of us, the whole herd, the entire flock, all
of us will intuit what is happening.
        As more of us intuit that realization exists,
that there is a foundation experience which changes
small "i" identity to capital "I" Identity;
 the feel of this experience, the intuition of it
  will travel like wildfire through the minds of men.
             When a few of us know, it won't
take too long for us all to know. It will just
be a matter of... I don't know how long... 
a century? A few centuries?

             Mind has a different time sense
than men do.

             "Do you reckon 1000 years much?"
... "I am large. I contain multitudes".... "It's
just as lucky to die as to be born, 
and I know it!" ***

"Between heaven and earth, I alone
     exist." ****

             I wish to thank all the saints
and bohisattvas who gave me the spirit
and encouragement to finish this article.
            I want to thank you, Holy One,
O True One who walks among us...
 "Thank you for your Grace, thank you
for your gifts. Thank you  for the strength 
you have given me.
           Without your strength 
I am an empty shell.
           I praise thee, Holy One!  I
praise thee! Thank you for the gifts
you have given all of us.


                          *********



          There is a metaphor that applies
to Homer's  Odyssey as well as it applies
to the basic archetypes of mankind.
      Telemachus  seeks his father; his father seeks
home...In a similar fashion, Man seeks home, too. 
His real Home is spiritual completion,
 realizing the True One among us.
           The True One reaches out to the man 
 who seeks him, becomes his reflection 
in the glass, and allows him to partake
of His divinity.

            There is one consciousness.
"The eye through which I see God,
is the eye through which God sees 
me. *****

           As it is said in one of the Nag Hammadi
gospels:

           "He knows and he is known."


                   

           This is the immaculate truth of the Bridal Chamber.                   
                                                            
                                                      +++++

* see Teilard de Chardin, "Hymn of the Universe"
** see "What the Bleep Do We Know!?" by Arntz, Chasse, and Vincente     
*** see  Walt Whitman, "Leave of Grass."
**** see books on Buddha.
***** see Meister Eckhart
****** see the Gospel of Philip.





(C)2014 by William G. Milne

MEETING THE MAN IN THE MIRROR

                                                    
                                                               1
                                                                

                          We've been told a fairy tale and we've
been told to believe it.
        As Heraclitus says,"The past does not exist;
the future does not exist. There is only the present,
and the present, every instant is a birth, an unending
birthing, moment to moment.
         I drank a highly hallucinogenic punch and, in
no time, I found myself clinging to roots of a huge
oak tree in Queen's Park, Toronto, weathering
a massive lightning and thunderstorm with
wild winds and bursts of heavy rainfall.
         It was midnight when the storm started
and I sat there for a long time, thinking
about the nature of reality. Every time a fork
of  lightning hit, I thought I could see the
teeth of Zeus in the lightning.
        When morning came I was soaked,
drenched to the skin, I felt like I had been
on an ocean voyage.
        Walking north to my rooms I watched
the lighted buses heading south taking
the people  downtown to work, people hanging on to
the ceiling hooks of the buses.
         I felt like a total outcast, but it
didn't matter. I was on a mission.
I finally made it to my desk. I threw
my shoes and clothes into the bathtub so they
could drain. Clutching the grain of the
wood on the desk... on a fresh
sheet of paper, I wrote these words:

IT'S ALL IN THE PROCESS.

Then I fell into bed and passed out.
        It doesn't seem like much of
a discovery, but all my life 
I've remembered those words.
         The process is always happening
now. There is never any past or future
to the process.
          The Mind of the One Who Is
Creating Us is always in the present
 tense.
 

        He/She/It did not create something then go away
and watch his past tense handiwork from above.
           We all know this is not how the earth works.
Just look at the sub-atomic world - everything is
in constant flux. 
            This is the river you cannot step in twice.
Right before you under your gaze, and right
within you the process is continuing. It
always continues right now.

                More than one person has asked me why 
I stress the word,  'mind' or 'Mind'. 
Why not use words like spirit, soul, faith, belief, 
God etc.
           Well, I do use these  words... but if I
use the word God  I get in trouble for it...
People have no idea what I mean by, 'God"  
I prefer to call this  being, I prefer to
call this Being by other names.
                   Soon as I say, "God", people 
start backing out of the room!
           
            After what the churches have done,
I do not want to use the same terms the
churches use. I don't want to be
associated with the churches.
      If  I  think in the old terms,
 it messes up my vision of reality.
       Creation never exists in the past
tense.

         As Heraclitus says. "The past does not exist;
the future does not exist.  There is only a constant
birthing... existing now.
          
          "God" did not create something then go away
and watch his past-tense handiwork from above.
           

        Just look at the sub-atomic world - everything is
in constant flux. It is never the same river.
           Every 7 years all the cells of our bodies
change.
          
          
                 The churches of early times  put heretics
to the sword. They also defined   the word. "heretic." 
All the terms of belief were set up by the Empire
 church many many years ago. The tenth legion of Rome 
supplied the necessary muscle - to enforce their
view of reality.

                They  created the  entire fairy tail.... 
 Then they told us how to believe in the
fairy tale!

                And the first part of the fairy tail is this,
the first thing they had to do was  make the Teacher
 so special, so remarkable, so different,
so rare, so exceptional  that no one would 
ever aspire to be Him.
              His attributes were out of this world;
they were unique. He was a distant star and
the early bishops wanted to keep him that
way - DISTANT...  We could follow
what we were told to follow, but only
at a distance.

             Why did He have to be so remarkable?
For this reason only:  He had to become a Commodity
that they could monopolize.
         THEY HAD A PATENT ON HIM! After all
they made him up out of whole cloth; they invented
that fairy tale form of him, so we all could happily
make believe
           If anybody said," Christ is our innermost
nature", that guy would be locked up!

          But I digress. I'm not going to rant and rave 
anymore about the deception that was made out 
of early Christianity. I've said enough

          Today we're going to bring science and religion together,
so that they can hold hands.
          

           (Please see "Meeting the Man in the Mirror 2)

 

                                       ****               







                                                                   (C)2014 by William G. Milne
                                                                     
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MORE ON TRANSCENDENCE - NAMES OF THOSE WHO HAVE PASSED THROUGH REALIZATION, NAMES OF THOSE WHO HAVE TASTED

                    Following on from last night on the subject of
transcendence.
         These are people I've come across, either through
reading or travelling.
          Philip Kapleau, Zen Master, of the Zen Temple
in Rochester. There is no question that he has
realized (experienced satori).
            Padma Sambava - ancient
master of Tibetan Buddhism. This man/saint/god/seer,
if one fifth of what I have read about him is true,
he must be studied. He is one of those characters
who had the ability to look into past lives and future
times as well. There is a tradition that he would 
hide books the world was not ready for, so that
they would be found at such a time as when the book
would be needed and its import could be grasped.
           This is the tradition of the tulku,
in the path known as Tibetan Buddhism. The tulku
is the guy who is going to find the book hidden
by the master...the tulku might appear 200 years 
later to complete the task and retrieve the book
set aside centuries before.
            This might sound like nonsense to you,
but remember these are the Himalayas of the
human Heart-Mind-Soul we're talking about now.
In fact, the word Upanishads means just that.

           One of the sayings from Padma Sambava's
time that I love:  "The secret book could lie
open on the King's Highway, and no one would read it."

           Of course, there is Lao Tzu and his book
"The Way of Life". This book is fluid, like water,
so it's import is hard to grasp, but this is a must
read.

           Other mystic minds from the Himalayas
of human vision -  Meister Eckhart and Heraclitus.

            And there was a Zen Master who taught
in Europe until his recent death. I'll remember
his name soon.

           When you live at the peaks, you see over
birth and death, so there is a continuity to your
vision. This continuity is transcendence.

           It is said there have been many Buddhas.
And there have been many "annointed ones"
called the Christ.
           But these are not different people. Once
a human mind has passed through the Foundation
Experience called "Realization", called "kensho",
also called "satori", an ego death takes place.
The eggshell ego implodes. A new identity is born.
In fact, the ego or old identity becomes  capital "i" Identity.
          If you would know the Eternal, experience
the meaning of the words "eternal life", the
superficial identity within you must perish, and
once you enter into communion with the one
Mind, then you know that death is impossible.
           Put one way, it is only God who lives in the Eternal.
Once you have taken the necessary steps of humility and made  yourself ready for Grace, you may
 enter into holy communion with Him, then you also
live in the eternal realms - you live in that place
where eternal life dwells.
          We call this place heaven. Heaven exists on earth,also.
           
           To say the same thing in different terms -
saying the same thing, but putting it differently -
there is one Suchness. Once you
attain to the Mind that is the core of the suchness,
you are complete.
            Liberation is yours... but whether it is yours,
or his or hers no longer matters. You have gone
beyond possession. When you have 'reached',
you live in the pure land. You live in a place 
beyond grasping. 

LOOKING LIKE HELL AND TRANSCENDENCE

         This is a difficult subject, but we must speak of it.
It's not discussed enough.
     Truth is - I've been drinking a bit. The academy awards
are on... and I'm not sure I'm up to this subject just now.
I'm a lot smarter in the morning.  In the morning
I'd rather not take on even 1/2 way difficult projects.
In fact, I'd rather not talk at all first thing... And I only
feel like writing after a pot of coffee, reading a tiny bit
of the news, looking
and taking a deep breath of the totally isolating but
deliciously sweet air up here amid northern lakes,
and swirling lights dancing all night long... something
I no longer do very often... stay up all night.
          But I did it last night.
           Now I can write on such things, briefly

          LOOKING LIKE HELL - well, this is simple.
After 50 years of age we all tend to look worse,
year after year. So we all look bad as the double-decades
keep scampering past.
         O.K. This is not news. Gorgeous women wrinkle and shrink... and some say handsome men shrink even more.
This is a given... we all look like shit over time,
despite the fact some of us get more intelligent. More
intelligent, yes, but as I say - some of us and sometimes -
we gain wisdom... Though pretty much we all forget what we
had for breakfast, we all know we look far worse than
we used to, and just maybe we learned a few things...
          But TRANSCENDENCE, this really is the issue.
What is the aim? This is the aim But what do any of us mean by this word?
           I have worked on this issue for decades,
let me make a few suggestions. If you are  thinking about this thing... Or if you're not... Check out: the Upanishads, check out the Gospel of Thomas, of Philip, of Truth; Walt Whitman, Emerson; the Blue Cliff Record; William Blake; Wordsworth.That's all I can think of for now.
               For the next bit, I guess I'll have to wait
for morning.

              What is TRANSCENDENCE? It is vision that
goes beyond dying and sees into re-birth, sees into
Mind. It is vision that sees thru birth-and-death
and emerges like the dawn out the other side
of darkness.

               How do you get there? You sit or lie still
and look into yourself. Or you become one with
a lover, until you are one organism with vision -
for this the sex must be slow, tauntingly slow,
tantric - to see with the one eye beyond the duality
of the two sexes.
               "Until you make the two  one."
               To do this - to embody, to become the True One
on earth, focus is needed beyond hunger, despite fear.
Focus is needed into the Mind that is outlasts all
minds.
               And what is the point of this? The point is to
taste the Eternal.  And once you taste this?
                You know TRANSCENDENCE.
                 There is something...
                  There is vision...
                   There is a knowing of the unity of man and the
                    earth and all the creatures of the sea, earth
                     and sky.
                     Transcendence is the start of love
                      That is not centred around yourself..
                       Love, beyond grasping.
                      The expanding of love beyond desire.

                       TRANSCENDENCE is liberation.

       So now I have said enough.

ONCE UPON A TIME THERE WAS A TRAIN

            Once upon a time there was a train
where people could breath and eat with knives and
forks like human beings and we didn't have the
urge to kill the fat guy on the seat next to us.
      In those days we didn't have to behave
like farm animals being transported they
know not where, making the sort of sounds
you hear coming from a barn over-packed with 
goats, chickens and cows.. And the grunts of pigs
and the squeals when a foot or a tail was yanked
on stepped upon.
           No. Those were the days of dignified travel.
When we had room. When there was a certain grace
to the dining car.  When passengers could breathe
and have a few thoughts along the way.
          A person might even feel a frisson of
 romance when he heard the lonesome
whistle of the train he was riding on. Bashing through
the deep snows in the winter, watching the pine
forest up  close to the windows, passing by.
 The trip was fun and alive, and tourists liked
it, too.

        No longer.

        Northerners no longer can travel like
normal people. We must skulk
like addicts in small little groups
in the wee small darkest hours past midnight -
to nab a bus which is not packed with people,
a means of travel where we can breathe
again.

          A lot of northerners do a lot
of wood chopping. This makes our
shoulders larger than the shoulders
of many southerners.
        As a result you cannot place two
 northern  wood-chopping
males next to each other in two narrow
seats and expect to achieve any kind
of harmony.
         Someone measured my shoulders the
other night (a sordid story I'll tell you
another time). I am close to three feet across
at the shoulders if I breath in, which I hope
to do when I'm travelling...And I'm not
considered a huge northerner, just a tad ungainly
in that I resemble a gorilla when
I walk.
         So you put me next to
another 240 pound beast from
the Great White North - say Swastika,
Ontario, or Iroquois Falls... well, we get to 
hate each other in thirty minutes.
There simply is not room in bus
transportation to seat two bushmen
together.
        Luckily, people such as we are
tend to bring libation with us - and
so even though there is no room 
to sit down - there is space to lie
down in the aisle - or  you could throw open
the luggage storage shelf above
and lie down there...
        But I have found this makes
the ladies nervous - taking bets
on exactly when the behemoth will
fall and break their mothers'
corning ware all at once and             ***
once and for all.
        Northern women chop wood, too.
And such ladies are quite capable
of knocking a southern liberal out,
if he falls into her lap at an
inopportune time.
      Nope. If the BUS is full
 we're like BEES in a BOTTLE.
I'd like to know which dingbat
made the decision to remove
trains from the north: the person
who pulled a fast one and turned
northern transportation into a
cruel farce.
      The woman ahead of me
in the bus was making a bit of a
speech to her fellow travellers.
And of course I could hear it 
because I was crammed and
seated in such a way that my nose
was about six inches behind her
left ear.
       She said: "They did it to
punish the north! For not voting
 liberal lately!"
        All the people up front were
talking to her, too, and murmuring agreement.
         "Whoever did it we owe
him one. We'll wait...!"she called out rather
 too loudly for what they call 'polite society'... 
but that didn't matter.
          We were no longer in polite
society. The bus was stuffed like the
Christmas turkey! I was wondering what
the scene reminded me of... and then I knew.
It reminded me of a bus in a third-world
country.
            In Jamaica, when I was a kid, buses
used to bop along from stop to stop,
careening around blind corners with the
horns blaring. But those buses were fun,
even if you were on the verge of getting killed
every second. Because... you were allowed
to smoke and drink alcohol,  stick
your head out the window and shout to people
in the street. You were even allowed to bring
chickens or a goat on board.
         Also, it was warm, so that helped, too,
if the bus broke down... or if seven or eight of
us had to get out and push the bus the last
hundred feet up a hill. That wasn't so bad
because of the sunny climate. 
         In Canada, of course, you'd freeze off some
body parts if you attempted this
feat.

         The woman up front was shouting 
again. It was impossible to ignore her.
          "Yes, we're going to wait!"
The other passengers were cheering.
          I didn't hear the whole speech
because the guy to the right of me
was breathing garlic into my nostrils.
However he passed me half a mickey of rye
and said, "Go ahead. Finish it!" And I
did... in two large gulps. So the garlic
no longer mattered to me.         

        The woman was standing now.
I couldn't really move my head, so I 
had to look right at her ass. Her
butt was big, made her look like the ass
of  a mule in blue jeans.
           But we all have our little problems
so I'm not one to judge.

        "Oh, yes, wait we will!" She
was waving her fist in the air. We'll
vote the bastards out! We'll get
payback!  We'll count the days!"

          There was more cheering,
but I didn't listen any more.
           My mind had moved on
to other things.

FORGETING THE NIGHT BEFORE ; EDITOR666 MOVES SOUTH, TO EDIT THE WORK OF YOUR ROVING REPORTER....................... ----------..........-.IMMEDIATE ANIMOSITY ARISES

         I  feel as if I'm hungover, but that can't be possible,
can it?
         I used to have just about every bad habit you can name,
but now I'm older and wiser. OR wiser because I'm older.
But his doesn't prevent me from behaving repeatedly
like a crazed slathering fool , sniffing after the remains
of the cake at  a toxic birthday party.
        
         
         I've gotten out of the habit of writing each morning.
This is strange because writing is an activity I really
enjoy.  Editing...not so much. So...not so much editing.
         
          However...
Editor 666 has made it down from the Arctic,
and I've given him a room... we'll see if this works out.
He's not the type of guy who understands the word,
'compromise'. Reasonable discussion, he cannot engage.
          And his table manners are atrocious. 

          But I SUSPECT need an editor... so I have been told.

I believe in living in the now. And that's when I want him
to leave.... Now!       
         Here goes:
   
         I thank God that the Christmas season is over.
I tend to go into a real nosedive with the weight of the solstice approaching. A Bob Dylan line comes to mind: "a trainload of fools bogged down in a magnetic field."  Those pre-
 solstice days make me feel that way - bogged down... in a magnetic field...
        
Editor 666:  "LIGHTEN UP! You son-of-a-bitch!  I'm not reading you so I can been dragged down into a sub-oceanic trough of morbidity and terminal  mind-warping depression!
I'm already depressed out of all remedy, after my
five month stay with the Mad Poet of Rat River!
         
 Writer:       I don't remember drinking last night, but I slept
on stage behind my amplifiers, and that's not usually
a good sign.
         I seem to remember someone handing me a pewter
stein of hog-wrestling-strength moonshine. I knew what it was
because I could see the little wavy lines above the surface
of the drink, even in the lights above the stage. That usually means it's really evil shit - just
what I like...a drink so strong it'll curl your hair, or your
toes, or both at the same time! A drink that'll hit you
hard front-on, straight-up, then circle around and bite you
in the ass! 

Ed.666: "You're really pushing it...And you're boring me!"

         O.K. This is going to get ugly. For one thing, an editor is supposed to edit, not insert his opinion into the text
every 200 words! 
                     The problem is, the prick is one of the best
editors alive today. I just have to find a comfortable
place for him (comfortable for me)  like a heavy cement-
walled basement with a vault door, locked from the
outside.

                    Now, I know the Mad Poet of Rat River, and
I'm aware of the utter disaster his cabin was in.
I know he couldn't find most of his own writings...
and he wrote all the time... so you figure it out.
Ratty has some kind of complex... I do not even
want to speculate about it.
         So we called Editor 666.

         Editor 666 was caught in some 
bowel-wrenching
scandal in New York City, some company
involved with the New York Times -
he was caught in an embarrassing situation
with a director's wife. In fact he drove
her car into the hotel pool at midnight.
       So he wasn't going to
be a manager any more...!
          I hear he was caught in some pink Tutu...

Editor666: "That simply is not true."
           
Writer:            "Not true, eh?  What was that pink
thing wrapped three times around your neck?

Ed666: "I think it's called a feather boa."
         
 Writer:            "You think? You know what it was!
You haven't had a moment of uncertainty
in print in the last ten years!"

Ed666: "There are many, many things... that never should
             have appeared in print! About half your writings
              ought to have been excised."

Writer: "You forget... when you get mouthy the way
             you are right now... You forget the hammer
             I keep right here beside the keyboard...
             I use the hammer for rodents of all variety -
             including editors."

Ed666:   "..."

Writer:  " I thought that might quiet you down a bit...
             When was the last time you took a bath?"

Ed666:   "...."

Writer: "When is th last time you slept?"

Ed666:  "..."


Writer: "My God, he's asleep now! He's staring out
                      the window with his eyes open...How does he
             do that? Must be a trick he learned in New
             York!"

              The writer is now waving a hand in front
of the editor's face. Not a peep emerges from the
editor....
              And his pupils are not contracting or dilating...
Is he dead? No... I can feel his breath on my
hand...
             He's sitting up straight in a straight back
chair... He looks like he's thinking, staring at the wall...
I've always suspected he's got some kind of bloodless,
lizard DNA in his veins.
             Maybe he's hibernating.

             Boy, if he were awake, he'd be editing this! I'm
sure he doesn't want this new bit of information
to get out! He's in some weird form of
'stasis'. He looks like he's thinking, staring at the
wall...
            I bet they paid him when he sat like this!
He probably had them all fooled. He's in some
kind of suspended animation.

Editor 666: "..."

Writer: "He probably's got himself trained... in some
            deep and twisted way... Likely his eyes
            pop open in some weird semblance of
            consciousness, every time I write 1000
            words."

Editor 666: "..."

Writer:   "He's not dead and he's not awake...
             He has just the slightest hint of a pulse.
             
 Editor666:   "....    ...."
              
Writer:         "..."             

Editor666:      "..."

Writer:            "Maybe he's shedding his skin."

Editor666:    "..."

Writer:          "..."
  
Ed:                    "..."

Wr:               "..."

Ed:                     "..."      "..."


Editor 666:      (whispers... talking to us, not to the writer)
       
Says:        "See how dull it is when I don't step in?"

L'ETRANGER, THE OUTSIDER - CAMUS AND VAN GOGH, THE EYE OF THE ARTIST

L`ETRANGER, THE OUTSIDER - CAMUS & VAN GOGH, THE EYE OF THE ARTIST

                     *           *                *

L`ETRANGER, THE STRANGER, THE OUTSIDER ——- THE OBSERVER WHO WATCHES FROM THE EDGES OF SOCIETY -THE ARTIST, THE LEADER ……………………………………………………………………………………………..VAN GOGH SENDS HIS EAR TO THE WOMAN HE LOVES FROM A DISTANCE

           Some years back, I was studying “L`Etranger” by Camus,
which is: `The stranger`, “The Outsider”…

      The man standing  outside the restaurant windows in the large  city -
 Paris, Toronto, New York, London - he might be
highly intelligent, but he does not partake of the affluence
of society; he`s not included in the good times or good food; he`s not invited to  cocktail parties,couples groups in fine restaurants.  He is totally excluded for one reason most of all: 
he is an observer.
         The only consolation L`Etranger has for all this rejection and ostracizing - 
he knows that most fine artists
live lives as solitaries. Oh yes, they may be in the
midst of a family, or they may not. But one thing is sure -
they are alone. They are alone now, and they have always been alone. 
Even when they are in a bar attempting to
talk to others, or at the funeral of a loved one,
the artist might be acutely observing the scene;
but he is detached, an outsider - he is The Stranger.
           There are too many examples of this “healthy sickness” - too many examples to count: Van Gogh,
why didn`t he have sex with the prostitute? Why did he
send his ear to her? 
           Because he was too detached?   Likely so…
Detached, yes, alienated, apart from… observing…
He saw her closely; he saw her so completely
that he loved her in a way she had never been
loved… 
          She may not have known this… (What do
any of us know about the people around us?) 
But she likely sensed it - she may not have sensed
his love; she might have thought it was lust… but she
certainly sensed his attention.
         He was detached. He saw her every colour, uncertainty
and frown. He probably never took her hand, or
shared a coffee with her. But he loved her in a way
that no one ever had…no one had ever seen her
so completely.

        Although, if you look at it from the woman`s
point of view. perhaps she would have rather had a meal and sex 
with the man instead of being observed so closely… even if he
looked at her with utter love, what good was that to her?
She might have thought…  She was busy.  She had
a child perhaps and cats to take care of.
         I`m sure she would have preferred to take the man`s
hand… but to endure his disconcerting stare?
         Who among us want to be observed so closely?
Most of us have our  guilts and paranoias…
who has the gift of repose?
          Sometimes the artist.  And sometimes not.

           Van Gogh likely would have preferred to take
her hand, also, or to pat her rump. But it was not to
be. He was too much the outsider, too much
the stranger…
        If he had been able to hold her hand, he would
not have had to send her his ear.
        Of the few women I can think of at the moment -
none of them would be more likely
to spend time with me, if I sent them
my ear.
        What do you think, my lady? If I sent you my ear,
would that patch up the differences between us?
Would that make everything all right.
         Or would I be taking another trip
up the hill into a locked unit?

          Close attention makes people uncomfortable.
They have their own lives to lead, and they do not
need some maniac perched like a jackdaw on the back
of the chair next to them… closely watching
the expressions on their face.

        But most true artists are exactly that: painters
and writers have been primarily that - observers…. 
Maniacs,madmen, excluded outlaws and pariahs
they are the watchers no groups are comfortable with…

      And so the artists are found looking in
through the glass  into the restaurant from the cold sidewalk…

Shivering in a wet raincoat with two dollars and forty cents
in your pocket… if you go to a cheap restaurant, you
can just about buy a coffee.

And when you go home, you can eat your oil paints
instead of bread.


                                                                      *

SANTA'S URBAN SURVIVAL GUIDE - PART 1

    


SANTA GIVES YOU URBAN SURVIVAL

      Any survival situation is interesting.  Toxic Psychosis
is definitely a survival situation. - often the danger is more
acute for other people.
      Extreme paranoia, however induced...can be a danger
to other people. If the subject feels he is under
attack, by let say six schoolteachers walking their dogs
across a public park...
      And if the subject is in the same public park, hiding in the
bushes and watching carefully at the approach of the enemy.  And the subject naturally has already gained the higher
ground...
       And if the subject is the survivor of several jail
fights and has learned the art of using anything
at hand for a weapon.
       And let`s say our hypothetical subject has
just snorted six ounces of Peruvian Marching Powder.
And has walked out of the family home at the start of
dinner. And he has slammed the front door
very loudly as he begins his fast search for higher
ground... And some fiend has cut the cocaine with
(Angel) DEVIL DUST - PCP....
       Now he`s carrying his shoes in his left
hand....And he`s having trouble putting these
shoes on - because every time he sits down to pull
on a shoe, he starts to levitate...
       And levitation is a problem I`d prefer
not to discuss before breakfast....
       
        Time for a cup of coffee. 

        Well, that`s why we call them drug fiends,
children. And they might attack out of the
bushes at any time.
         
        Because even if you`re only sixteen
and even if all six of you weigh less than a
thousand pounds, and even if you`re walking Labrador
Retrievers, not Dobermans. The DRUG FIEND
 walking with the king  SEES THE SCENE
                                  DIFFERENTLY
 than you your school-teacher buddies do!
        
         The drug fiend sees danger everywhere he turns.
He is in what the doctors like to call, a "FIGHT OR FLIGHT"
situation.
   
          You see, you think you`re walking along in a
safe park  and it`s a balmy spring evening, and you`re 
talking to your wives, whoops! wife. And the dogs you
are walking are frolicking along looking for bushes to sniff.
           But you see, that`s not the reality at all...

           In fact, you are walking 2300 years ago...

           You don`t hear the shrieking citadel geese, because
you are not aware that you are approaching the citadel...
and the bushes your dogs are sniffing give rise
to the bushes on higher ground where the brave soul
defending the city from Etruscan Invaders... awaits.
           And he passed right through that little fight-or-flight
problem six minutes ago. This Drug Fiend is a brave soul.
            He is defending the lives of his people. And he
has been doing military exercises for decades.
             He`s been practising hurling sharp implements against a reinforced wall in his basement for six years now
taking speed all night, night after night, for years
and lifting weights after his fingers have become too blistered from whipping around all those six-pointed stars
at the human head drawn in the wall 30 feet away
from his barricade.
         He works out nightly in his Roman exercise gallery.

          Your dogs have transformed themselves into the
200 pound snarling beasts ( precursors to the brave Rottweiler breed, only larger and trained to eat what it
kills - trained to eat and kill the citizens of Rome.)
         Our brave fiend is truly lost in madness now.
But for him, remember, the situation makes sense.
It doesn`t to you, but you`re not making the rules.
You`re not the director of this very real theatre piece.
             Well, you`ll see the problem developing...

              When you see the 320 pound, extremely agile,
shoeless monster burst from the bushes you are
attacking.... when you hear him howl in a chattering
fashion teeth flashing in a snarl which may also be a laugh...
               When you see him running downhill in a leaping
motion... running past your company  to your left - down
the hill and cutting off any chance of
dignified escape...    or any escape at all.

                  Well, then it`s time, my friends, to start seeing
the situation the way he does.
                  TIME WARP does exist.
                   principle: The craziest among us, he defines the time and space.

              If you see him BOUNDING, moving the way you have never seen a human move - chances are, what you
are dealing with is an entity rather less and rather more than
human...
             iT`S IMPORTANT TO QUICKLY READ THE SIGNS!
             (1) bounding,  that`s a sign
             (2) when your domestic dogs have stopped barking
                  and now they`re just pissing themselves where                    they stand, that`s another sign.         

             It`s a sign to run like a motherfucker!
             
             Go ahead, sprint for the bushes.  Forget
about ripping the shit of your $1000 suit.  Run through
the bushes... don`t worry about what may be permanent
facial scars as the undergrowth tears at your skin. That`s
what plastic surgery is for.
            Run right through the brand new one by six pine
planking of your neighbours fence... Let the men do that for
you, ladies.Chances are they`ve got a good head start on 
you anyway...

principle: When reality strikes, forget what ought to be.
            
          LET GO OF THE LEASHES OF YOUR DOGS! They
can outrun you - one good thing about animals, they
never forget how to flee...

          Ask any 20 year cop who`s worked the inner city
and the ravines... Ask him about the mysteries, the delights
and the insane dangers of fiends on PCP.
           I have heard horrible stories. Babies have been
eaten... A man crossing sixteen  lanes of the 401
with an arm in his mouth... unworried, as if he`s
going to church.  I have heard horrible stories.
        And what I have SEEN is far worse than what I have heard.

        If you`re lucky enough to SEE such a beast approaching, shoot for the centre of the chest. 
(Fuck luck! If you`re unwary, you won`t see a thing and you`ll be dead) Chances are he`ll be too fast for you to hit him in the head...
        Shoot him three or four times in the chest.... then
run like the demons of hell are nipping at your heels.
Because THEY ARE!  RUN LIKE HELL!
         And don`t for a minute think... just because you`ve
hit him four or five times in the chest with a 303, don`t think he`s dead.  He won`t be,
           With all that adrenalin and lead in him he can still
run faster than you can.Don`t bother checking to see
if he`s wear body arm.. MANIACS DON`T NEED VESTS!
           Throw a chair or a boulder thru somebody`s
living room window... get your crew inside and shove a couch into the ungainly opening you have made in the wall. Ha! Ha!
           THEN CALL 911.
                       
            Forget cell phones at times like this --- your fingers
will shake too much to use them...
            Shove the couch into the wall opening. Get any of the men with you who are not weeping on their knees and praying for SANTA... get them to rip legs off chairs off chairs for added impact defence.
            Remember, I AM SANTA. If you`ve been to jail
you`ve probably already met me - and you know I tell you
no lies.

            Tell the house owners of the house to "SHUT UP AND FIND A GUN.!"
            This guy`s still coming for you. Don`t ever think he`s not. He might be catching his breath.  No, scratch that - he
DOESN`T NEED TO CATCH HIS BREATH.
          Forget the weak and the slow, your friends who were walking in the park with you...
they`re dead already!

           The cops`ll get there quick.  A lot of the guys like
situations like this - and thank God for that! 
         Never criticize a certain love for violence in your constabulary. What do you expect? It`s their stock and trade.
At times such as this you`ll wish they were more violent -
at times like this you need ravening beasts

             Fuck luck! When someone`s trying to kill you,
the only response is -  TRY TO EAT HIS SKULL!

             I`ve been through a few situations like this
and I`m still alive... And this little article might just save
your life...
             There`s no time to think when the rams`horns are
blowing in the hills.

                                          
                                           
                                             Respectfully submitted. RRR
 



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