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A GOB OF SPIT......the awakening of Mr. Miller

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For years, Henry Miller lived the life of a would-be writer. He was

45 when he wrote his first book Tropic of Cancer in 1934. Here is

what he writes in the opening page:

 

" I have no money, no resources, no hopes. I am the happiest man

alive. A year ago, six months ago, I thought that I was an artist. I

no longer think about it, I am (author's italic). Everything that was

literature has fallen from me. There are no more books to be written,

thank God. " This then? This is not a book. This is libel, slander,

and defamation of character. This is not a book, in the ordinary

sense of the word. No, this is a prolonged insult, a gob of spit in

the face of Art, a kick in the pants of God, Man, Destiny, Time,

Love, Beauty… what you will. I am going to sing for you, a little off-

key perhaps, but I will sing. I will sing while you croak, I will

dance over your dirty corpse. "

 

Henry Miller could not have written such a powerful book if he had

not got over his romanticized visions of becoming a writer. He could

write the book he did precisely because there were " no more books to

be written. "

 

With the transition from " I thought that I was an artist " to " I am " ,

he had come full circle. As a result, he went beyond mere writing

to " singing " —not to mention the funny things he did to God and the

like in the process.

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Nisargadatta , " roberibus111 " <Roberibus111

wrote:

>

> For years, Henry Miller lived the life of a would-be writer. He was

> 45 when he wrote his first book Tropic of Cancer in 1934. Here is

> what he writes in the opening page:

>

> " I have no money, no resources, no hopes. I am the happiest man

> alive. A year ago, six months ago, I thought that I was an artist. I

> no longer think about it, I am (author's italic). Everything that was

> literature has fallen from me. There are no more books to be written,

> thank God. " This then? This is not a book. This is libel, slander,

> and defamation of character. This is not a book, in the ordinary

> sense of the word. No, this is a prolonged insult, a gob of spit in

> the face of Art, a kick in the pants of God, Man, Destiny, Time,

> Love, Beauty… what you will. I am going to sing for you, a little off-

> key perhaps, but I will sing. I will sing while you croak, I will

> dance over your dirty corpse. "

>

> Henry Miller could not have written such a powerful book if he had

> not got over his romanticized visions of becoming a writer. He could

> write the book he did precisely because there were " no more books to

> be written. "

>

> With the transition from " I thought that I was an artist " to " I am " ,

> he had come full circle. As a result, he went beyond mere writing

> to " singing " —not to mention the funny things he did to God and the

> like in the process.

>

 

 

There was no 'Henry' outside of the writing.....painting.....outside

of the Henrying.

 

It may comfort and validate your personal sense of self to imagine a

man.....a Henry Miller man...who got over his romanticized visions and

wrote something of value for those less stalwart.

 

It makes for a great heroic epic.......the self loves to roll in scent

of triumph.

 

 

It just loves stories....about imaginary heroes.

 

 

 

toombaru

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Nisargadatta , " toombaru2006 " <lastrain

wrote:

>

> Nisargadatta , " roberibus111 " <Roberibus111@>

> wrote:

> >

> > For years, Henry Miller lived the life of a would-be writer. He

was

> > 45 when he wrote his first book Tropic of Cancer in 1934. Here is

> > what he writes in the opening page:

> >

> > " I have no money, no resources, no hopes. I am the happiest man

> > alive. A year ago, six months ago, I thought that I was an

artist. I

> > no longer think about it, I am (author's italic). Everything that

was

> > literature has fallen from me. There are no more books to be

written,

> > thank God. " This then? This is not a book. This is libel,

slander,

> > and defamation of character. This is not a book, in the ordinary

> > sense of the word. No, this is a prolonged insult, a gob of spit

in

> > the face of Art, a kick in the pants of God, Man, Destiny, Time,

> > Love, Beauty… what you will. I am going to sing for you, a little

off-

> > key perhaps, but I will sing. I will sing while you croak, I will

> > dance over your dirty corpse. "

> >

> > Henry Miller could not have written such a powerful book if he

had

> > not got over his romanticized visions of becoming a writer. He

could

> > write the book he did precisely because there were " no more books

to

> > be written. "

> >

> > With the transition from " I thought that I was an artist " to " I

am " ,

> > he had come full circle. As a result, he went beyond mere writing

> > to " singing " —not to mention the funny things he did to God and

the

> > like in the process.

> >

>

>

> There was no 'Henry' outside of the writing.....painting.....outside

> of the Henrying.

>

> It may comfort and validate your personal sense of self to imagine a

> man.....a Henry Miller man...who got over his romanticized visions

and

> wrote something of value for those less stalwart.

>

> It makes for a great heroic epic.......the self loves to roll in

scent

> of triumph.

>

>

> It just loves stories....about imaginary heroes.

>

>

>

> toombaru

 

 

Imagine that!........just imagine! The possibilities and all!

;)

.......bob

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that's pretty cool, how that can apply to a person's idea of

themselves as being spiritual, non-dual, whatever, vs. the actual

being of who they are

 

steve c.

 

 

Nisargadatta , " roberibus111 " <Roberibus111

wrote:

>

> For years, Henry Miller lived the life of a would-be writer. He was

> 45 when he wrote his first book Tropic of Cancer in 1934. Here is

> what he writes in the opening page:

>

> " I have no money, no resources, no hopes. I am the happiest man

> alive. A year ago, six months ago, I thought that I was an artist. I

> no longer think about it, I am (author's italic). Everything that was

> literature has fallen from me. There are no more books to be written,

> thank God. " This then? This is not a book. This is libel, slander,

> and defamation of character. This is not a book, in the ordinary

> sense of the word. No, this is a prolonged insult, a gob of spit in

> the face of Art, a kick in the pants of God, Man, Destiny, Time,

> Love, Beauty… what you will. I am going to sing for you, a little off-

> key perhaps, but I will sing. I will sing while you croak, I will

> dance over your dirty corpse. "

>

> Henry Miller could not have written such a powerful book if he had

> not got over his romanticized visions of becoming a writer. He could

> write the book he did precisely because there were " no more books to

> be written. "

>

> With the transition from " I thought that I was an artist " to " I am " ,

> he had come full circle. As a result, he went beyond mere writing

> to " singing " —not to mention the funny things he did to God and the

> like in the process.

>

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Nisargadatta , " Steve Connor " <sconnor wrote:

>

> that's pretty cool, how that can apply to a person's idea of

> themselves as being spiritual, non-dual, whatever, vs. the actual

> being of who they are

>

> steve c.

 

 

A 'person' is nothing other then their own ideas about themselves.

 

 

 

toombaru

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

>

>

> Nisargadatta , " roberibus111 " <Roberibus111@>

> wrote:

> >

> > For years, Henry Miller lived the life of a would-be writer. He was

> > 45 when he wrote his first book Tropic of Cancer in 1934. Here is

> > what he writes in the opening page:

> >

> > " I have no money, no resources, no hopes. I am the happiest man

> > alive. A year ago, six months ago, I thought that I was an artist. I

> > no longer think about it, I am (author's italic). Everything that was

> > literature has fallen from me. There are no more books to be written,

> > thank God. " This then? This is not a book. This is libel, slander,

> > and defamation of character. This is not a book, in the ordinary

> > sense of the word. No, this is a prolonged insult, a gob of spit in

> > the face of Art, a kick in the pants of God, Man, Destiny, Time,

> > Love, Beauty… what you will. I am going to sing for you, a little off-

> > key perhaps, but I will sing. I will sing while you croak, I will

> > dance over your dirty corpse. "

> >

> > Henry Miller could not have written such a powerful book if he had

> > not got over his romanticized visions of becoming a writer. He could

> > write the book he did precisely because there were " no more books to

> > be written. "

> >

> > With the transition from " I thought that I was an artist " to " I am " ,

> > he had come full circle. As a result, he went beyond mere writing

> > to " singing " —not to mention the funny things he did to God and the

> > like in the process.

> >

>

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Nisargadatta , " toombaru2006 " <lastrain

wrote:

>

> Nisargadatta , " Steve Connor " <sconnor@>

wrote:

> >

> > that's pretty cool, how that can apply to a person's idea of

> > themselves as being spiritual, non-dual, whatever, vs. the actual

> > being of who they are

> >

> > steve c.

>

>

> A 'person' is nothing other then their own ideas about themselves.

>

>

>

> toombaru

 

 

 

that's a pretty good idea the idea of yourself had. but it's really

nothing.

 

nobob

 

 

 

 

 

> > Nisargadatta , " roberibus111 "

<Roberibus111@>

> > wrote:

> > >

> > > For years, Henry Miller lived the life of a would-be writer. He

was

> > > 45 when he wrote his first book Tropic of Cancer in 1934. Here

is

> > > what he writes in the opening page:

> > >

> > > " I have no money, no resources, no hopes. I am the happiest man

> > > alive. A year ago, six months ago, I thought that I was an

artist. I

> > > no longer think about it, I am (author's italic). Everything

that was

> > > literature has fallen from me. There are no more books to be

written,

> > > thank God. " This then? This is not a book. This is libel,

slander,

> > > and defamation of character. This is not a book, in the

ordinary

> > > sense of the word. No, this is a prolonged insult, a gob of

spit in

> > > the face of Art, a kick in the pants of God, Man, Destiny,

Time,

> > > Love, Beauty… what you will. I am going to sing for you, a

little off-

> > > key perhaps, but I will sing. I will sing while you croak, I

will

> > > dance over your dirty corpse. "

> > >

> > > Henry Miller could not have written such a powerful book if he

had

> > > not got over his romanticized visions of becoming a writer. He

could

> > > write the book he did precisely because there were " no more

books to

> > > be written. "

> > >

> > > With the transition from " I thought that I was an artist " to " I

am " ,

> > > he had come full circle. As a result, he went beyond mere

writing

> > > to " singing " —not to mention the funny things he did to God and

the

> > > like in the process.

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" toombaru2006 " <lastrain wrote:

>

> Nisargadatta , " Steve Connor " <sconnor@> wrote:

> >

> > that's pretty cool, how that can apply to a person's idea of

> > themselves as being spiritual, non-dual, whatever, vs. the actual

> > being of who they are

> >

> > steve c.

>

>

> A 'person' is nothing other then their own ideas about themselves.

>

> toombaru

>

 

What you said seems true to me... but I also feel that a person is

what they have their attention strongly focused on.

In an attempt to put order into chaos, one becomes sucked into that

which he or she fixates on.

Or in an attempt to " have " something, one becomes the player in the game.

That's my opinion :-)

 

Stu

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Nisargadatta , " stuartkfmn " <stuartkfmn wrote:

>

>

>

> " toombaru2006 " <lastrain@> wrote:

> >

> > Nisargadatta , " Steve Connor " <sconnor@> wrote:

> > >

> > > that's pretty cool, how that can apply to a person's idea of

> > > themselves as being spiritual, non-dual, whatever, vs. the actual

> > > being of who they are

> > >

> > > steve c.

> >

> >

> > A 'person' is nothing other then their own ideas about themselves.

> >

> > toombaru

> >

>

> What you said seems true to me... but I also feel that a person is

> what they have their attention strongly focused on.

> In an attempt to put order into chaos, one becomes sucked into that

> which he or she fixates on.

> Or in an attempt to " have " something, one becomes the player in the

game.

> That's my opinion :-)

>

> Stu

>

 

 

The 'person' emerges between the focusing and that which is focused upon.

 

toombaru

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Nisargadatta , " stuartkfmn " <stuartkfmn wrote:

 

>

> What you said seems true to me... but I also feel that a person is

> what they have their attention strongly focused on.

> In an attempt to put order into chaos, one becomes sucked into that

> which he or she fixates on.

> Or in an attempt to " have " something, one becomes the player in the

game.

> That's my opinion :-)

>

> Stu

 

Stu -

 

Isn't it that the person appears as person, simultaneously with the

fixation -- so that the person is the activity of fixating?

 

That attempt to have order through fixating is a misunderstanding,

isn't it?

 

Randomly yours,

Dan

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" dan330033 " <dan330033 wrote:

>

> Nisargadatta , " stuartkfmn " <stuartkfmn@> wrote:

>

> >

> > What you said seems true to me... but I also feel that a person is

> > what they have their attention strongly focused on.

> > In an attempt to put order into chaos, one becomes sucked into that

> > which he or she fixates on.

> > Or in an attempt to " have " something, one becomes the player in the

> game.

> > That's my opinion :-)

> >

> > Stu

>

> Stu -

>

> Isn't it that the person appears as person, simultaneously with the

> fixation -- so that the person is the activity of fixating?

>

> That attempt to have order through fixating is a misunderstanding,

> isn't it?

>

> Randomly yours,

> Dan

>

 

What I experience is that the person or ego appears as " self the

problem or quest " , while also feeling that he or she HAS the problem

or quest.

It seems that the self or ego " sees " the problem and " is " the problem,

both at once.

 

Stu

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Nisargadatta , " stuartkfmn " <stuartkfmn

wrote:

>

> " dan330033 " <dan330033@> wrote:

> >

> > Nisargadatta , " stuartkfmn " <stuartkfmn@>

wrote:

> >

> > >

> > > What you said seems true to me... but I also feel that a person

is

> > > what they have their attention strongly focused on.

> > > In an attempt to put order into chaos, one becomes sucked into

that

> > > which he or she fixates on.

> > > Or in an attempt to " have " something, one becomes the player in

the

> > game.

> > > That's my opinion :-)

> > >

> > > Stu

> >

> > Stu -

> >

> > Isn't it that the person appears as person, simultaneously with

the

> > fixation -- so that the person is the activity of fixating?

> >

> > That attempt to have order through fixating is a misunderstanding,

> > isn't it?

> >

> > Randomly yours,

> > Dan

> >

>

> What I experience is that the person or ego appears as " self the

> problem or quest " , while also feeling that he or she HAS the problem

> or quest.

> It seems that the self or ego " sees " the problem and " is " the

problem,

> both at once.

>

> Stu

>

 

yes,yes

and what experiences this is what " sees " this and " is " it.

you are that

always

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