What if something somebody once said -- that you begin to look like everybody you learn anything from -- was true? To begin with, there's something I want you to do. Picture the universe as it is usually described, using normal city information. Suppose the universe is l5 billion light years across, from here to there. Now do a square dance mentally and try to get some feel of you -- one tiny person -- in the midst of all this. Hold that picture, think about the short time you are here on earth, then Consider the strangeness of the concept of teaching, of instruction. Consider how strange it is to seek out some person -- another human being -- to teach you something.
Assuming the biological record of man's evolution is correct, when do you suppose the first cave man turned to another cave man and said, "Hey, if I come by your cave tonight, after it gets dark, would you teach me something?"
Of course, to get a picture of this you don't have to look to any historical record; go back to your own nervous system. When you first think about the idea of instruction, there seem to be two kinds. In the lower circuits, you are shown something; to teach you, someone would have to show you what they learned from experience. So the first type of lesson won't be about calculus. The cave man will say to his neighbor, "Hey, I'm going around chasing lizards all day while you're out killing a brontosaurus. Could you show me how?"
A second type of lesson has to do with being taught something pertinent to the upper circuitry. When you go to another human, pay him and say, "Teach me so and so," where did the other human get what he or she teaches you? Apparently, from experience. Apparently, you are saving yourself some time by paying for part of their life. They seem to be older and wiser and to have done more than you have, so you ask them to teach you. But in the area of the upper circuits, are you really paying for their experience?
Consider, for example, paying a college professor to teach you mathematics. Is that professor's experience the same as the cave man's who had experience killing brontosaurs to feed a family? No, the professor did the same thing you're doing; he paid somebody to teach him math. Was that learning based on experience?
What about another area seemingly beyond these first two: a "special" area which could be called "spiritual." From the ordinary view -- in your dreams about superior hidden knowledge or old stories about the prophets -- there seems to be a third category of learning which apparently comes about through spontaneous education. People do not seem to attain this third kind of education through experience. A Jesus, a Mohammed, did not show up and say, "I worked for 35 years in the field and this is what I figured out." Likewise, Moses the Second didn't say, "I sat down with Moses the First and he taught me everything he knew." Instead, such prophets apparently received a kind of spontaneous education.
The descriptions of this "special" type of education as "information from on high" have a certain validity. When such "spontaneous education" occurs, Life remembers it. (In relation to this, remember that history is whatever Life says it was -- people can't remember what they did yesterday.) Genetic information has flowed down a side track, and Life remembers when that happens.
"Study," as it's called, is an excuse for not understanding something. Study is not a way to know something, but an excuse for not knowing. What I called "special" education has never come about through studying information from another human being, and does not come through experience. So there seems to be a third way of learning.
Here's something else to consider: Can people simply be told what to do, or does teaching also require they be told how to do it? If you want to learn something and you pay an instructor, what are you paying for? Would you consider the lesson sufficient if the teacher simply told you what to do?
Would it be sufficient to tell somebody what to do if you were conveying lower circuit information? Would the cave man be satisfied if the other cave man told him, "What you do is you take this ax, and you sneak up behind the brontosaur, and you hit him on the neck." Or, to bring the example up to date, "How do you learn to walk on your hands?" When learning such an activity, it would be moot to start a conversation about "how." There is no "how" -- there's "what." But the Yellow Circuit always wants to ask, "How?"
A more intellectual person trying to learn to walk on his hands might get into a discussion about the theory of balance, the history of circus tricks, the development of tumbling skills. He might ask all kinds of questions -- "If it's true there's no historical record of humans walking on their hands, then how did they first start doing it?" "Where do you put your hands?" "How do you shift your weight?" -- (Notice there seems to be an area where "what' overlaps "how"). But why is it never sufficient to be told what to do? At the upper circuit, intellectual level, no one is ever satisfied with that; everyone insists, "Tell me the rest."
No one at city level can stop at "what" to do. Think about that. Is there a difference between "what" and "how"? At city level there is, and that difference helps create a transfer of energy wherein one person is apparently teaching another. First the teacher will tell you what to do. Then your nervous system will say, "No, no. Tell me the rest, tell me how to do this." You feel you're being cheated if the teacher didn't tell you "how."
Let's go back to the third area -- extraordinary knowledge you don't find in colleges or circus schools. At city level, religions reflect this kind of knowledge. To take an example from one religion, Moses came down from the mountain with ten commandments, telling the people what to do. But did it stop there? No. Nowadays, the church has to maintain huge buildings in Rome -- not to store all the Pope's clothes and shoes, but to hold all the books of comments people made on top of those commandments. After Moses (or Jesus, or some other prophet) told them what to do, they wrote and discussed and discoursed endlessly, apparently on the basis that, "He told us what to do, but now the people are demanding to know how it's done." The unspoken part is, "We don't know how either, but we're willing to tell you, or write a book on the subject -- we don't know any more than you, so we're here to teach you how."
There is a molecular gap that strikes the nervous system when you're told only "what." You think the rest is "how" to do it. But Consider, what is the difference? Why is the nervous system wired up to stall for time? (This could be looked at as another version of the "first story.") The teacher says, "Here's what to do and that's the end of the course." Immediately, students raise their hands: "Would you explain to us how to go about this?" And the teacher might think, "That's a fair question." But it's not a fair question. Of course, you may as well ask the question in the city, since everything in the city is just stalling for time and amusing yourself until the grim reaper comes.
There is sufficient proof in life that no human ordinarily knows what he's talking about. Everybody knows nobody knows what they're talking about, but nobody can look at this fact -- and it is a fact. All the world's great ideas are baloney. (Of course, in the city they're not baloney; they are just what they are.)
Speaking of great ideas, here's one that has become popular: the idea of having a "diversified portfolio" as a "hedge against inflation." These days, nobody can give financial advice without using those terms. On every TV show you see a guy in a suit, wearing a stain-free power tie, saying, "I'll level with your viewers -- the average investor has got to have a diversified portfolio." And everyone thinks, "Yes, let me write that down!" Of course the man is talking about somebody who's got $l000 and at best may get l0% interest...
When financial advisors talk about a "diversified portfolio," they're saying they don't know what they're talking about: "My expert advice is, I don't know." If the expert knew which stock to buy, you'd ask him which stock to buy, he'd give you the name of one that was a sure winner, and your portfolio would consist of that stock. Advice about diversifying your portfolio passes for sophisticated and knowledgeable information on the workings of the stock market. But nobody knows any more about the stock market than people know about the weather. I've always wondered whether there are stockbrokers because there weren't enough jobs left for t.v. weathermen.
But let's go back to areas of real interest to people like you -- people who aren't so crass as to be interested in money -- people who are trying to be religious. Don't you hear the same thing in religion? Nowadays, even religion is promoting a kind of diversified portfolio -- sometimes called "new age." Channel a little, perhaps fast a little, then go over and dance with the Hari Krishnas...
If anybody knew anything and could provide direct information, there would be only one piece of information. A stock broker would say, "Buy stock x." A priest would say, "Treat your neighbor as yourself." That would be it.
There is a knowledge among people that no one -- including experts -- knows what they're talking about. Do you know how rare it is for stockbrokers to be sued or attacked physically? How often does anyone get upset with priests and rabbis? Nobody walks up to a minister and says, "I've listened to everything you said, tried to do what you said, and read everything you wrote for twenty years and I'm sick of it! I want my money back." But people know -- there is an awareness in humans -- that no other human knows what they're talking about. People are not upset by this -- it's a part of life.
In the city, investors say, "Such and such firm has a great reputation, but nobody can predict exactly what's going to happen in the stock market." Priests say, "None of us can do exactly as Jesus (or Mohammed or Buddha) did." What they're actually saying is: "Diversify your portfolio, because nobody really knows." They're admitting, "I can tell you what to do, but don't ask me how." No one finds this curious. It's not open to debate; nobody attacks them for it. In the city, no one knows what they're talking about and no one cares.
I'm not attempting to get Zeny on you, or to make any of you more depressed than you already are, but let's press on. Binary thought being the epitome of logic and reason, then it's only one step further to realize that one human being can't teach any other human being anything. The knowledge is in the nervous system, but no one can teach anyone else.
In the case of learning to hunt or do gymnastics, someone could apparently teach you from their trial and error experience. A little higher up in the nervous system, you can get someone to tutor you in mathematics, although the lesson would not be based on trial and error, the way lower circuit lessons could be. Someone could teach you in the same way they were taught -- by passing along information not gained through physical experience.
Then there is the third category. When a person has an "Oh, Wow!" realization -- a mathematician comes up with the quadratic equation -- that does not seem to be based on the physical experience of the individual. It gets into the area of apparent revelation, wherein spontaneous education seems to occur. What is the basis of revelation? What experience could you have that would lead to the message, "Treat your neighbor as yourself." If a Moses or Jesus sat down with you for a beer, and you asked where they learned what they know, they'd say, "I don't know." They had a kind of spontaneous education.
That being the case, how can you learn anything in the third category? If somebody told you what to do, would you do it? You could stall and ask, "How?" But that's just an excuse for doing nothing. If you stall long enough, you'll die. Well, I guess dying qualifies as another kind of spontaneous education.
You should be able to See and Remember that all maps are a kind of mirage and they are missing something. They're not lacking because of some fault or omission by the map makers -- it's just that ordinary consciousness is limited. Like all senses, consciousness picks up only a part of what is going on. Your eyes see only part of the spectrum of light -- there are machines that can register more than vision does. All maps, even my descriptions of binary man, are flawed. The maps attempt to describe a continuous reality, just around the corner, and reality goes off in another direction, into another spectrum which you cannot see from "here."
One way to approach this around the corner, continuous reality is on the basis of time. Experiencing a continuous reality would be like going into another dimension -- you would be conscious of the rest of what's going on. To begin to understand that suggests answers to almost everything. The fact that reality turns a corner and consciousness cannot follow explains why men believe in gods, why death is so unfathomable, why people can't conceive of where they came from. Just around the corner, there's another piece that is just beyond the reach of ordinary consciousness.
All binary maps are mirages of sorts. For example, I have used a map called "The Partnership" to describe the continual sensation you have that inside of you there are obviously two things: there is one, and then there is the other one that criticizes and want to change the first one. But Man, as a nervous system, is a single, unified structure: The nervous system is not cut into sections. One end of the structure talks; one end creates sound waves that go "out there" and come back to be registered by the nervous system so that is goes, "Huh?" But this is all one structure in operation.
What I have called the Line of Consciousness in humanity at any given time refers to the fact that the human nervous system is expanding, just as a tree grows, from the bottom upward. And this Line is where the expansion is happening. Man is not getting appreciably bigger, taller or stronger; no new senses are being developed at the lower circuit level. But the upper end of the nervous system keeps growing, becoming more sophisticated and "civilized." And it keeps talking.
Even though my maps of the nervous system are useful, you should keep an awareness that there is no cutoff point in the nervous system; there are no dividing lines between the upper and lower circuitry anywhere in the system. All the maps, in some manner, divide man into an upper part and a lower part, but man is not divided. There is a continuous flow of energy through the circuitry -- through this unified nervous system. One area talks and one area doesn't talk. That's Man, the conscious being. That's you.
If you don't believe this, can you see that you could prove it by shoving a screwdriver up your nose? That certainly would be a lot cheaper than brain surgery, and you would no longer be a conscious being. The only thing lacking would be the part of you that talks. Thus, the other part would no longer hear it talking. (It's like the old tree in the forest story. If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there, does the falling tree make a sound? "Do I hear myself talk if nobody is there to listen?") After that, the fact that you've kept your weight and cholesterol down all these years wouldn't matter anymore. You would not be considered a conscious being by any stretch.
No matter how singular you feel -- no matter how complex a problem being human seems -- remember the first picture I gave: You are in the midst of l5 billion light years of universe. Next to that, your little apartment is not such a big deal. Next to that,the whole planet earth is minute,and the section you take up couldn't be seen even under a microscope. The only thing is, one part of you talks continuously. On top of that is the feeling that being human is a complex job. But, you are unified.
Another description of This Activity is to discover that you are unified, whereas everyone else in the city believes they are not. Ordinary consciousness absolutely knows you're not unified, even as you listen to me say you are. Because consciousness knows one part of you is listening, and another part is not listening. As soon as it thinks anything, consciousness is aware of that other part which is thinking something different. To city people, that other part -- whatever it is -- seems to be the troublemaker which they must either change or destroy.
What if This is just discovering you are unified, when you already know you're not? There is only a unified, single nervous system in you. Everything else is simply a map, a temporary sketch. The map might say you're on Highway 4 in the state of Oklahoma. Well, if somebody believes they're in Oklahoma, the only way to communicate with them is to map out Oklahoma, all the while knowing you and they are not in Oklahoma. You do it and you know that they can't see otherwise. Everyone believes there is someone else in there. You do not have to convince anyone that they are divided in two.
If you're really a F.R.I.P. (Fictitious, Reasonably Insane Person) and could stand back to determine what you could do that would be the most profitable -- the most conducive to Life's growth -- you'd realize that it would not be to pursue any ideas you have of change. Because, if you could change, you would end up even more one-sided. You would be worse off. You must first realize that you are unified, even as you feel otherwise. These maps may be cute, but they're not true. There is no split in the system. When religions talk of man's "downfall," all they're talking about is the fact that at one point in man's development, the nervous system began to make noise. That was man's downfall, from one point of view.
A slight variation on this description is to picture the top end of the nervous system as a radio station. In the past, I referred to the station as WDNA. Another name would be "Station WMEE." The upper end of the nervous system feels as though its speech is a broadcast, and seems to have some knowledge about the nature of broadcasting. The nervous system knows it must get electricity/food to power the broadcast; that it should stay out of storms, avoid sunspots and wash behind its ears. But the nervous system has no idea where the broadcast originates and can't conceive of the source: "I'm the broadcast, but I'm not really sure where the thing comes from." The talking part doesn't understand that the station is the source and that the broadcast is in no way separate from the station. The nervous system feels fragmented: "I can think and say things I don't even like. I have dreams and nightmares -- where the hell do nightmares come from?" The broadcast knows it doesn't have the slightest idea of the source.
If you had a walking-around awareness of being one unified nervous system, you'd no longer feel separate from anything else. You might still have nightmares about strangling your brother, but you wouldn't care anymore. You'd know, "I am a unified nervous system," -- no conditions, no adjectives, no troublemaker to try to civilize. You are unified to begin with; there's nothing to put together. You are overlapped in such a way that you can't be underlapped or undone. The nervous system can't conceive of that -- but consider the alternatives.
Here is another addendum to the nonexistent "Revolutionist's Code of Conduct." Just as you should not talk about the cost of anything, you should cease dealing with yourself or speaking in terms of degrees or gradations. For example, you should not say, "I am very likely to do that," "It's unlikely that I will," "I might," "I probably won't," etc. If you cannot say "yes" or "no," you should simply say, "Possibly." To a revolutionist, "possibly" means everything. If you are asked a direct question, and you can't at the time deal in all or nothing, say only, "Possibly." Say it and don't mean it, and keep your face bland. That is passionate non-committance.
This could have a salubrious and surprising effect on the matter of unification, because part of the nervous system doesn't like doing that. The nervous system is not wired up to transfer energy that way and to do so can lead you to feel the unified polarity. You might even begin to see how crude something like hermitism is, for people to go off and chant, meditate, try to remove themselves from normal influences.
Remember, the workings of the human nervous system are in you, in you, in you. You can have an experience and understand, not only in you, but how energy goes through hundreds of people over thousands of years, and it's all little pieces of Life coming out. Life shows someone something and then gets them to put on a hair shirt, go out and teach other people to stand on their big toe, stay away from the opposite sex, and before you know it you've got a religion. Just look at the size of the Catholic church. Someone went, "Wow," and it turned into that. A better way is to pursue the great school of "Possibly."
You should always deal in no less than three alternatives: all, nothing, or possibly. No degrees; simply, "It's possible." Possibly is better than WD-40 in the city, more fun than falafel, better than being an ingenue and especially better than being a moose. Taste it, think it, speak it. Find instances, instigate opportunities to tell people, "Possibly."