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Date: Wed. May 21, 2003
Subj: Is you is, or is you ain't?
There seems to be some history of creating machines or machinery to keep
something or someone existing. This frees up a source to create and/or do a
lot of other things without having to continuously and consciously keep
something created or mocked up. And somewhere in the dim and murky past, L.
Ron Hubbard had a lot to say about thetan machinery, and both the advantages
and disadvantages of having such machinery.
It might even be said that the body human is a machine. Modesty forbids
me from telling of some of the things that bodies, as machines, keep creating
or keep created; but anyone who's curious and who possesses such a machine (a
body human) could probably find out for themselves.
In a previous posting it was mentioned that when and if you raise
someone's havingness of something to the point where they feel confident in
having it and realize that it's not scarce and that it's something that could
be created in vast quantities, well, at such a point, the person might gain
control of keeping whatever it is created or uncreated at will, which is a
pretty fancy place to get to, if as I'm talking about in tonight's talk, the
thing we're talking about is what you go around calling "you."
Well, this is based on the idea that the person you consider yourself to
be has been and is being created, possibly not consciously, but at least
continuously, and that at some risk to identity it is possible to become, or
know of and be, the conscious source of "you."
It's possibly a good idea to keep in mind that whatever or whoever has
brought into being or created a specific "you" has done so with the idea that
most creators are possessed of, namely, that it's one heck of a nifty
super-fine creation, something that should easily evoke tons of admiration
and appreciation and lots of "Ooohs" and "ahhs" from all the other sources
over time that come to regard this creation.
Well, it's a possibility that there was a point in time when admiration
and/or appreciation weren't in such short supply and so difficult to find and
obtain, when beings easily and frequently delighted in the creations of other
beings and poured out admiration with no trouble at all, since it wasn't the
scarcest or most valuable particle in the existing universe. Of course, in
those times, creative sources made things and unmade things with great ease,
and their havingness on this was so high that they could be quite careless
and not necessarily attach such great or serious importance upon their
creations; and they probably didn't make just a few and keep them mocked up
endlessly and then start pissing and moaning over the eternities because they
were no longer getting much admiration.
Well, the eternities having passed, we now find ourselves circa now being
human beings who have gone 'way out of our way to keep created and more or
less continuously asserting "Well, that's who I really am!" We usually have
a name for the creation and cling to this creation with the tenacity of a
fighting pit bull, and defend it to the death, so to speak, using the body to
create a false sense of singularity.
Well, this is certainly a far cry from the good old days when you didn't
have to go to the circus or the theater or the moving pictures in order to
see folks picking up beingnesses and laying them down, which is what acting
is all about. But when actors reach the point where they can only play one
role, they've lost something on the havingness scale and greatly diminished
their possibilities for providing interest, entertainment, pleasure, and
enthusiasm, and the playfulness to be found in children, having to do with
the willingness to be more than one "you."
Anyhow, so that you don't lose the havingness of the "you" that you have
so thoroughly invested in by suddenly having it go "poof," you can, on a
gradient, if you find the adventure interesting, start doing it piecemeal,
until, like the sculptor who took a fairly large block of marble and decided
to sculpt himself in that marble 00 well, to make a long story short, when he
was all through, there was no more block of marble, there was just mostly
nothing, with a little marble dust here and there, and he finally stepped
back, as he had done through all the stages of attempting to sculpt self,
never satisfied along the way, until finally, seeing nothing there, a great
smile wreathed his/her face, and he/she was heard to say, looking at this
nothingness, "I finally did it! That's really me."