CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR DEPT:

RE:Date:Wed, 23 Nov 2011 02:08:06 -0500          From:         To: YES we should do dinner. I should do your portrait. I am doing a Video Series of and about the art of talking and making documentaries I interviewed a Guy who says my calls are one reason he doesn't commit suicide even though he wrote a book about his family history and Suicide I guess the to some the IDEA HAS SOME appeal. That the kid in us all want to hide under the blankets, the adult in me says, " I wonder what is in the fridge I can eat for breakfast. Or then I stumble apron a email like this one "LOL" Living with other things in my head (we all here voices) Its sometimes memory or dream state chatter , Hallucinations are often entertaining, enjoy the show, life is short enough ... is my advice. "Along time ago I figured out I don’t own my mind But I can Cultivate it ... " I have met some marvelous scoundrels and fascinating con men scam artists and hustlers, "perhaps" we could discuss some stories as a kind of joint venture ... Collaboration maybe we could virtually interview each other visa versa talking at each other fascinating potential amazing possibilities.... Via two I-pad's talking to each other... Art and Censorship? Here is a quote from one of my personal favorite scoundrels Dr Jose Delgado x CIA mind Fucker as the Ed Sanders one of the Fugs founders & a poet might have described him but SCONDERIAL PROFIT  HUSTLER makes him one of my personal favorite scoundrels ever the guy was offering me a job to do surgery because I hade super steady eye hand coordination a valuable skill for neurological work even though it was extremely un ethical and un humane I briefly considered taking the job but turned it down and you know what’s strange a few years back I found and read a white paper he wrote to get Gov. funds for his experiments it sounded very humanitarian and was pilled with prognostication about how treatment regimes might be discovered to possible even cure dreaded neurological disorders such as Parkinson’s and Epilepsy  and other seizure disorders  the guy was a Chameleon and a Snake in the grass... To say the least as palatably evil as any grand father type working like Father Gepitto Panoicoes "DAD" . Jose Delgado - Physical Control of the Mind http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QwPUVqewEos&feature=related  Dr Jose Delgodo  http://www.google.com/search?hl=en&source=hp&q=+Dr+Jose+Delgodo&gbv=2&oq=+Dr+Jose+Delgodo&aq=f&aqi=&aql=&gs_sm=s&gs_upl=2172l2172l0l3391l1l1l0l0l0l0l219l219l2-1l1l0 This guy is a? power maniac and a psychopath. iceman0886 2 weeks ago Unblock User @NenaGamer really? Check Delgado's opinion on humans? :) "The individual may think that the most important reality is his own existence, but this is only his personal point of view. This lacks historical perspective. Man does have the right to develop his own mind. This kind of liberal orientation has great We must electronically control the brain. Someday armies and generals will be controlled by electric stimulation of the brain."  Jose Delgado and his Bull Story http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6nGAr2OkVqE 5 min - Mar 8, 2010 - Uploaded by matrixcutter Dr. Jose Delgado, February 24, 1974 edition of the Congressional Record, No. 262E, Vol ... youtube.com  Mind Control Sciences - Jose Delgado and his Bull ... 5 min - Nov 10, 2010 - Uploaded by UGottaKnowThis Jose Delgado I Believe, If Not The First, Was One Of The First To Implant Electrodes Into The ... youtube.com   And I met a guy that worked for Hitler and was a cofounder of the CIA I think so there's a story that describes him The Gigantic Heartless Multinational Corporation From The Gigantic Heartless Multinational Corporation. Mingus Designs shall not be liable for any errors, omissions, interruptions or delays in connection with the ... http://www.thegiganticheartlessmultinationalcorporation.com Speaking of  ? SCONDERIAL PROFIT Hustler’s" Bodyguard for Jean Genet while he visited the states I am referred to in his biography Worked for Herbert Hunky the ruthless poet makes Mick Jagger and Bob Dillon look like Merry Popping and Pat Boon a nice nice safe modifying non threatening combo M.P. & P.B., any way enough of this free association crap just remember words rhymes with ... Turds , Herds & Birds. Ouuups! Mr. Bam! Shucks!! Good Old Ant I Nuke Links http://www.thegiganticheartlessmultinationalcorporation.com/id490.htm "In Memory of Allen Ginsburg & Marshall McLuhan " " WW III will be a guerilla information war with no division between military & civilian participation..." Any way there endless good and bad stuff to talk about or we could setup two recorded I-pads on a table and that couple inter view each other kind of like the solar powered talking tombstones I proposed I-pads to Radio Shack15 years ago...  Re: Hey dude Call me    I can deal with that "which is shorthand for saying I shouldn't kill myself just because my mind said I should." ======================= ???? I send these free downloadable links   Inside the Mind of Adolph Hitler http://stagevu.com/video/dbqrzmsqbnnz Max (2002) DVD Rip Xtreme http://stagevu.com/video/bjdzrokvcmvt http://www.thegiganticheartlessmultinationalcorporation.com/id495.htm    a i wrote: Hey, how are you doing? Have you been to the new gallery at 82nd? What’s going on?We should do dinner. I should do your portrait.  Which is shorthand for saying I shouldn't kill myself just because my mind said I should. A               Last Update 2012-01-11 Copyright © Charles Mingus 2012

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How to Vanquish Fear

[Editor's Note: This title of this piece was provided by Justin, the person who sent this excerpted conversation between Carlos Castenedas
and don Juan, the Yaqui shaman who explains to Carlos the nature of the hidden fourth dimensional predators who plague humanity. Don
Juan calls them the "flyers." The name refers to the darting shadows that some people can notice from the corner of their eyes when in a
dark room. I'm not an expert on Carlos Castenedas books, but I think he wrote them in the 1940's and 50's. I'm greatly impressed by
the information being relayed here. This information would have been very hard to accept at that time, as we were only starting to become
aware of UFOs and an alien presence. In 2007, we now possess much more information about the alien manipulators that control the
leaders of all major governments and are, in fact, the driving force behind the implementation of the New World Order nightmare. I
remind readers of a comment that Phil Schneider made to a question from someone in his audience at his last lecture given in September
of 1995 in Seattle, Washington. He said that "the alien agenda and the New World Order agenda are one and the same."

Don Juan explains that these aliens think of (and treat) humans as a food source and can overlay the human psyche in order to keep
us dumbed down and unaware of their influence, however, it's possible, he says, to dislodge them through discipline. By allowing
ourselves to be immersed in destructive emotions: fear, anxiety, anger, strife, jealousy, competitiveness, the dog-eat-dog mentality
(just think of the daily fare on TV-Court TV, Survival shows, Reality shows, Apprentice  shows,  violent cartoons, Jerry Springer type
shows, etc.) we hold at minimum our "shining coat of awareness", thus serving the alien agenda. We can rebuild our "shining coat"
and no longer be under the influence of those dark forces by removing the "self" from our focus of existence.

    There is much food for thought here. I encourage you to read this piece and ponder what is being discussed. Our thanks to Justin
 for sending it....Ken]

    http://educate-yourself.org/cn/howtovanquishfear23may07.shtml
    May 23, 2007

    How to Vanquish Fear (Don Juan & Carlos Castenedas) May 23, 2007

    Subject: How to vanquish fear
    From: Justin
    Date: Wed, May 23, 2007
    To:   Editor

Dear Ken,
Thanks for your great site, thought you might appreciate this.
How to vanquish the predator's foreign installation of fear = Bravely, courageously, facing infinity with inner silence.
Please keep up the good work, your site promotes awareness.
Sincerely,

Justin

A conversation between Carlos Castenedas and Yaqui shaman don Juan

    "They discovered that we have a companion for life," he said, as clearly as he could. "We have a predator that came from the
depths of the cosmos, and took over the rule of our lives. Human beings are its prisoners. The predator is our lord and master.
"It has rendered us docile; helpless. If we want to protest, it suppresses our protest. If we want to act independently, it demands
that we don't do so."It was very dark around us, and that seemed to curtail any expression on my part. If it had been daylight,
I would have laughedmy head off. In the dark, I felt quite inhibited.
"It's pitch black around us," don Juan said, "but if you look out of the corner of your eye, you will still see fleeting shadows jumping
all around you."
He was right. I could still see them. Their movement made me dizzy. Don Juan turned on the light, and that seemed to dissipate
everything.

Don Juan said, "You have arrived, by your effort alone, to what the shamans of ancient Mexico called the topic of topics.
"I have been beating around the bush all this time, insinuating to you that something is holding us prisoner. Indeed we are held
 prisoner! This was an energetic fact for the sorcerers of ancient Mexico."
"Why has this predator taken over in the fashion that you're describing, don Juan?" I asked. "There must be a logical explanation.
"There is an explanation," don Juan replied, "which is the simplest explanation in the world.
"They took over because we are food for them, and they squeeze us mercilessly because we are their sustenance.
"Just as we rear chickens in chicken coops, gallineros, the predators rear us in human coops, humaneros. Therefore, their food is
always available to them."
I felt that my head was shaking violently from side to side. I could not express my profound sense of unease and discontentment,
 but my body moved to bring it to the surface. I shook from head to toe without any volition on my part.

I heard myself saying, "No, no, no, no. This is absurd, don Juan. What you're saying is something monstrous. It simply can't be
true, for sorcerers, or for average men, or for anyone."
"Why not?" don Juan asked calmly. "Why not? Because it infuriates you?"
"Yes, it infuriates me," I retorted. "Those claims are monstrous!"
"Well," he said, "you haven't heard all the claims yet. Wait a bit longer and see how you feel"I'm going to subject you to a blitz.
That is, I'm going to subject your mind to tremendous onslaughts; and you cannot get up
and leave because you're caught. Not because I'm holding you prisoner, but because something in you will prevent you from
leaving while another part of you is going to go truthfully berserk. So brace yourself!"

There was something in me which I felt was a 'glutton for punishment'. He was right. I wouldn't have left the house for the
world; and yet I didn't like one bit the inanities he was spouting.

Don Juan said, "I want to appeal to your analytical mind. Think for a moment, and tell me how you would explain the contradiction
 between the intelligence of man the engineer, and the stupidity of his systems of beliefs; or the stupidity of his contradictory behavior.

"Sorcerers believe that the predators have given us our systems of beliefs; our ideas of good and evil; our social mores.
The predators are the ones who set up our hopes and expectations, and dreams of success or failure. They have given us
covetousness, [* covetousness- an envious eagerness to possess something] greed, and cowardice. It is the predators who
make us complacent, routinary, and egomaniacal."

 "But how can they do this, don Juan?" I asked, somehow angered further by what he was saying. "Do they whisper all that
in our ears while we are asleep?"

"No, they don't do it that way. That's idiotic!" don Juan said, smiling. "They are infinitely more efficient and organized than that.
"In order to keep us obedient, meek and weak, the predators engaged themselves in a stupendous maneuver- stupendous, of
course, from the point of view of a fighting strategist; a horrendous maneuver from the point of view of those who suffer it.

"They gave us their mind! Do you hear me? The predators give us their mind which becomes our mind. The predators' mind
 is baroque, contradictory, morose, and filled with the fear of being discovered any minute now.

"I know that even though you have never suffered hunger," he went on, "you have food anxiety which is none other than the
anxiety of the predator who fears that any moment now its maneuver is going to be uncovered, and its food is going to be denied.

"Through the mind, which after all is their mind, the predators inject into the lives of human beings whatever is convenient for
them. The predators ensure in this manner a degree of security to act as a buffer against their fear."

"It's not that I can't accept all this at face value, don Juan," I said. "I could, but there's something so odious about it that it
actually repels me. It forces me to take a contradictory stand.

"If it's true that they eat us, how do they do it?"

Don Juan had a broad smile on his face. He was as pleased as punch.
He explained that sorcerers see infant human beings as strange, luminous balls of energy covered from the top to the bottom
with a glowing coat something like a plastic cover that is adjusted tightly over their cocoon of energy.

He said that that glowing coat of awareness was what the predators consumed, and that when a human being reached adulthood,
all that was left of that glowing coat of awareness was a narrow fringe that went from the ground to the top of the toes. That fringe
permitted mankind to continue living, but only barely.
As if I were in a dream, I heard don Juan explaining that, to his knowledge, man was the only species that had the glowing coat
of awareness outside that luminous cocoon. Therefore, he became easy prey for an awareness of a different order; such as the
heavy awareness of the predator.
He then made the most damaging statement he had made so far. He said that this narrow fringe of awareness was the epicenter
of self-reflection where man was irremediably caught.

By playing on our self-reflection, which is the only point of awareness left to us, the predators create flares of awareness that they
proceed to consume in a ruthless, predatory fashion.
They give us inane problems that force those flares of awareness to rise, and in this manner they keep us alive in order for them
to be fed with the energetic flare of our pseudo-concerns.There must have been something in what don Juan was saying which was
so devastating to me that at that point I actually got sick to my stomach.
After a moment's pause long enough for me to recover, I asked don Juan, "But why is it that the sorcerers of ancient Mexico and
 all sorcerers today, although they see the predators, don't do anything about it?"

 "There's nothing that you and I can do about it," don Juan said in a grave, sad voice. "All we can do is discipline ourselves to the
point where they will not touch us.

"How can you ask your fellow men to go through those rigors of discipline? They'll laugh and make fun of you; and the more
aggressive ones will beat the shit out of you- and not so much because they don't believe it.

"Down in the depths of every human being, there is an ancestral, visceral [* visceral- obtained through intuition rather than from
reasoning or observation] knowledge about the predators' existence."

My analytical mind swung back and forth like a yo-yo. It left me and came back, and left me and came back again. Whatever
don Juan was proposing was preposterous, incredible.

At the same time, it was a most reasonable thing; so simple. It explained every kind of human contradiction I could think of.
But how could one have taken all this seriously? Don Juan was pushing me into the path of an avalanche that would take me
down forever.
I felt another wave of a threatening sensation. The wave didn't stem from me, yet it was attached to me. Don Juan was doing
something to me, mysteriously positive and terribly negative at the same time. I sensed it as an attempt to cut a thin film that
seemed to be glued to me.
His eyes were fixed on mine in an unblinking stare. He moved his eyes away, and began to talk without looking at me anymore.
"Whenever doubts plague you to a dangerous point," he said, "do something pragmatic about it. Turn off the light. Pierce the
darkness; find out what you can see."  He got up to turn off the lights. I stopped him.
"No, no, don Juan," I said, "don't turn off the lights. I'm doing okay."

What I felt then was a most unusual, for me, fear of the darkness. The mere thought of it made me pant. I definitely knew
something viscerally, [* visceral- relating to or affecting internal organs collectively rather than from reasoning or observation]
but I wouldn't dare touch it, or bring it to the surface, not in a million years!

 "You saw the fleeting shadows against the trees," don Juan said, sitting back against his chair. "That's pretty good. I'd like
you to see them inside this room. You're not seeing anything. You're just merely catching fleeting images. You have enough energy
 for that."
I feared that don Juan would get up anyway and turn off the lights, which he did. Two seconds later, I was screaming my head
off. Not only did I catch a glimpse of those fleeting images, I heard them buzzing by my ears.
Don Juan doubled up with laughter as he turned on the lights.
"What a temperamental fellow!" he said. "A total disbeliever, on the one hand; and a total pragmatist on the other.
"You must arrange this internal fight, otherwise you're going to swell up like a big toad and burst."
Don Juan kept on pushing his barb deeper and deeper into me. "The sorcerers of ancient Mexico," he said, "saw the predator.
They called it the flyer because it leaps through the air. It is not a pretty sight. It is a big shadow, impenetrably dark, a black
shadow that jumps through the air. Then, it lands flat on the ground.

"The sorcerers of ancient Mexico were quite ill at ease with the idea of when it made its appearance on Earth. They reasoned
that man must have been a complete being at one point, with stupendous insights and feats of awareness that are mythological
legends nowadays. And then everything seems to disappear, and we have now a sedated man."
  
I wanted to get angry and call him a paranoiac, but somehow the righteousness that was usually just underneath the surface
of my being wasn't there.Something in me was beyond the point of asking myself my favorite question: What if all that he said
is true? At the moment he was talking to me that night, in my heart of hearts, I felt that all of what he was saying was true, but
at the same time and with equal force, I felt that all that he was saying was absurdity itself.

"What are you saying, don Juan?" I asked feebly. My throat was constricted. I could hardly breathe.
"What I'm saying is that what we have against us is not a simple predator. It is very smart and organized. It follows a methodical
system to render us useless. Man, the magical being that he is destined to be, is no longer magical. He's an average piece of meat.
There are no more dreams for man but the dreams of an animal who is being raised to become a piece of meat: trite, conventional,
imbecilic."

Don Juan's words were eliciting a strange, bodily reaction in me comparable to the sensation of nausea. It was as if I were going
to get sick to my stomach again. But the nausea was coming from the bottom of my being, from the marrow of my bones. I convulsed
involuntarily. Don Juan shook me by the shoulders forcefully. I felt my neck wobbling back and forth under the impact of his grip.
The maneuver calmed me down at once. I felt more in control.

"This predator," don Juan said, "which, of course, is an inorganic being, is not altogether invisible to us as other inorganic beings
are. I think as children we do see it, but we decide it's so horrific that we don't want to think about it.
"Children, of course, could insist on focusing on the sight, but everybody else around them dissuades them from doing so.
Continuing, he said, "The only alternative left for mankind is discipline. Discipline is the only deterrent.

"But by discipline I don't mean harsh routines. I don't mean waking up every morning at five-thirty and throwing cold water
on yourself until you're blue.
"Sorcerers understand discipline as the capacity to face with serenity odds that are not included in our expectations. For sorcerers,
discipline is an art; the art of facing infinity without flinching; not because they are strong and tough, but because they are filled
with awe."
"In what way would the sorcerers' discipline be a deterrent to the flyers?" I asked.
Don Juan scrutinized my face as if to discover any signs of my disbelief. He said,"Sorcerers say that discipline makes the glowing
coat of awareness unpalatable to the flyer.
"The result is that the predators become bewildered. An inedible glowing coat of awareness is not part of their cognition, I suppose.
 After being bewildered, they don't have any recourse other than refraining from continuing their nefarious [* nefarious- extremely
wicked] task.
He continued, saying, "If the predators don't eat our glowing coat of awareness for a while, it will keep on growing. Simplifying
this matter to the extreme, I can say that sorcerers, by means of their discipline, push the predators away long enough to allow their
 glowing coat of awareness to grow beyond the level of the toes. Once it goes beyond the level of the toes, it grows back to its natural
size.

"The sorcerers of ancient Mexico used to say that the glowing coat of awareness is like a tree. If it is not pruned, it grows to its
natural size and volume. As awareness reaches levels higher than the toes, tremendous maneuvers of perception become a matter
of course.

"The grand trick of those sorcerers of ancient times," don Juan continued, "was to burden the flyers' mind with discipline."Sorcerers
found out that if they taxed the flyers' mind with inner silence, the foreign installation would flee, and give any one
of the practitioners involved in this maneuver the total certainty of the mind's foreign origin.

    "The foreign installation comes back, I assure you, but not as strong; and a process begins in which the fleeing of the flyers'
mind becomes routine until one day it flees permanently.

    "That's the day when you have to rely on your own devices which are nearly zero. A sad day indeed! There's no one to tell you
 what to do. There's no mind of foreign origin to dictate the imbecilities you're accustomed to.

 "My teacher, the nagual Julian, used to warn all his disciples," don Juan continued,"that this was the toughest day in a sorcerer's
 life for the real mind that belongs to us.

"The sum total of our experience after a lifetime of domination has been rendered shy, insecure, and shifty.
"Personally, I would say that the real battle of sorcerers begins at that moment. The rest is merely preparation."
I became genuinely agitated. I wanted to know more, and yet a strange feeling in me clamored for me to stop. It alluded to
dark results and punishment, something like the wrath of God descending on me for tampering with something veiled by God
himself. I made a supreme effort to allow my curiosity to win.
I heard myself say, "What-what-what do you mean, by taxing the flyers' mind?"
"Discipline taxes the foreign mind no end," he replied. "So, through their discipline, sorcerers vanquish the foreign installation."

I was overwhelmed by his statements. I believed that don Juan was either certifiably insane or that he was telling me something
so awesome that it froze everything in me.

I noticed, however how quickly I rallied my energy to deny everything he had said. After an instant of panic, I began to laugh, as
if don Juan had told me a joke. I even heard myself saying, "Don Juan, don Juan, you're incorrigible!" [* incorrigible- not capable
of being affected by correction or punishment]

Don Juan seemed to understand everything I was experiencing. He shook his head from side to side, and raised his eyes to the
heavens in a gesture of mock despair.

He said, "I am so incorrigible, that I am going to give the flyers' mind which you carry inside you one more jolt. I am going to
 reveal to you one of the most extraordinary secrets of sorcery. I am going to describe to you a finding that took sorcerers thousands
 of years to verify and consolidate."

He looked at me, smiled maliciously, and said, "The flyers' mind flees forever when a sorcerer succeeds in grabbing on to the
vibrating force that holds us together as a conglomerate of energy fields. If a sorcerer maintains that pressure long enough, the
flyers' mind flees in defeat. And that's exactly what you are going to do; hold on to the energy that binds you together."

I had the most inexplicable reaction I could have imagined. Something in me actually shook, as if it had received a jolt. I entered
 into a state of unwarranted fear, which I immediately associated with my religious background.

    Don Juan looked at me from head to toe.

    "You are fearing the wrath of God, aren't you?" he said. "Rest assured, that's not your fear. It's the flyers' fear, because it knows
that you will do exactly as I'm telling you."

    His words did not calm me at all. I felt worse. I was actually convulsing involuntarily, and I had no means to stop it.

    "Don't worry," don Juan said calmly. "I know for a fact that those attacks wear off very quickly. The flyer's mind has no concentration
whatsoever."

    After a moment, everything stopped as don Juan had predicted. To say again that I was bewildered is a euphemism.
 [* euphemism-an inoffensive expression that is substituted for one that is considered offensive]

    This was the first time in my life ever, with don Juan or alone, that I didn't know whether I was coming or going.

    I wanted to get out of the chair and walk around, but I was deathly afraid. I was filled with rational assertions, and at the same
time I was filled with an infantile fear.

    I began to breathe deeply as a cold perspiration covered my entire body. I had somehow unleashed on myself a most godawful
 sight: black, fleeting shadows jumping all around me wherever I turned.

    I closed my eyes and rested my head on the arm of the stuffed chair. "I don't know which way to turn, don Juan," I said. "Tonight,
you have really succeeded in getting me lost."

Don Juan said, "You're being torn by an internal struggle.

"Down in the depths of you, you know that you are incapable of refusing the agreement that an indispensable part of you, your
glowing coat of awareness, is going to serve as an incomprehensible source of nourishment to, naturally, incomprehensible entities.

 "And another part of you will stand against this situation with all its might.

"The sorcerers' revolution," he continued, "is that they refuse to honor agreements in which they did not participate.

  "Nobody ever asked me if I would consent to being eaten by beings of a different kind of awareness. My parents just brought me
 into this world to be food, like themselves, and that's the end of the story."

Don Juan stood up from his chair and stretched his arms and legs. "We have been sitting here for hours. It's time to go into the
 house. I'm going to eat. Do you want to eat with me?"

I declined. My stomach was in an uproar.

"I think you'd better go to sleep," he said. "The blitz has devastated you."

I didn't need any further coaxing. I collapsed onto my bed, and fell asleep like the dead.

At home, as time went by, the idea of the flyers became one of the main fixations of my life. I got to the point where I felt that
 don Juan was absolutely right about them. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't discard his logic.

The more I thought about it, and the more I talked to and observed myself, and my fellow men, the more intense the conviction
that something was rendering us incapable of any activity or any interaction or any thought that didn't have the self as its focal point.

My concern, as well as the concern of everyone I knew or talked to, was the self.

 Since I couldn't find any explanation for such universal homogeneity, I believed that don Juan's line of thought was the most
appropriate way of elucidating the phenomenon.

 I went as deeply as I could into readings about myths and legends. In reading, I experienced something I had never felt before:
 Each of the books I read was an interpretation of myths and legends. In each one of those books, a homogeneous mind was palpable.

The styles differed, but the drive behind the words was homogeneously the same: Even though the theme was something as
abstract as myths and legends, the authors always managed to insert statements about themselves. The homogeneous drive behind
 every one of those books was not the stated theme of the book. Instead, it was self-service. I had never felt this before.

I attributed my reaction to don Juan's influence. The unavoidable question that I posed to myself was: Is he influencing me to see
 this, or is there really a foreign mind dictating everything we do?

I lapsed, perforce, into denial again, and I went insanely from denial to acceptance to denial. Something in me knew that whatever
don Juan was driving at was an energetic fact; but something equally important in me knew that all of that was guff.

The end result of my internal struggle was a sense of foreboding; the sense of something imminently dangerous coming at me.

I made extensive anthropological inquiries into the subject of the flyers in other cultures, but I couldn't find any references to
them anywhere. Don Juan seemed to be the only source of information about this matter.

 The next time I saw him, I instantly jumped to talk about the flyers.

I said, "I have tried my best to be rational about this subject matter, but I can't. There are moments when I fully agree with you
 about the predators."

"Focus your attention on the fleeting shadows that you actually see," don Juan said with a smile.

I told don Juan that those fleeting shadows were going to be the end of my rational life. I saw them everywhere.

Since I had left his house, I was incapable of going to sleep in the dark. To sleep with the lights on did not bother me at all.
The moment I turned the lights off, however, everything around me began to jump. I never saw complete figures or shapes.
All I saw were fleeting black shadows.

"The flyers' mind has not left you," don Juan said. "It has been seriously injured. It's trying its best to rearrange its relationship
with you. But something in you is severed forever. The flyer knows that. The real danger is that the flyers' mind may win by getting
you tired and forcing you to quit by playing the contradiction between what it says and what I say.

"You see, the flyers' mind has no competitors," don Juan continued. "When it proposes something, it agrees with its own proposition,
and it makes you believe that you've done something of worth.

"The flyers' mind will say to you that whatever Juan Matus is telling you is pure nonsense, and then the same mind will agree with
its own proposition, 'Yes, of course, it is nonsense,' you will say. That's the way they overcome us.

"The flyers are an essential part of the universe," he went on, "and they must be taken as what they really are- awesome, monstrous.
They are the means by which the universe tests us.

"We are energetic probes created by the universe," he continued as if he were oblivious to my presence, "and it's because we are
possessors of energy that has awareness that we are the means by which the universe becomes aware of itself.

"The flyers are the implacable [* implacable- incapable of being more favourably inclined, or gaining the good will of] challengers.
They cannot be taken as anything else. If we succeed in doing that, the universe allows us to continue."

I wanted don Juan to say more. But he said only, "The blitz ended the last time you were here. There's only so much to be said
about the flyers.

    ---------------------------------------------------------------------------

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"FAREWELL THE TRANQUIL MIND The Art of Maxwell Gordon"

This artwork, Babyfoot by Maxwell Gordon,
is currently for sale at Arlene Berman Fine Arts.
Find comprehensive details on this artwork below, contact the gallery
from this page, or browse more artworks by

Maxwell Gordon on artnet Galleries. 

  TITLE:   Babyfoot 
 
  ARTIST:   Maxwell Gordon 
 
  WORK DATE:   1950 
 
  CATEGORY:   Paintings 
 
  MATERIALS:   Oil on canvas 
 
  MARKINGS:   Signed lower right 
 
  SIZE:   h: 16 x w: 20 in / h: 40.6 x w: 50.8 cm 
 
  REGION:   American 
 
  STYLE:   Surrealism 
 
  PRICE*:   Contact Gallery for Price 
 
  GALLERY:   Arlene Berman Fine Arts    Send Email 
 
  DESCRIPTION:   WPA artist 
 
 ONLINE CATALOGUE (S): Arlene Berman Fine Arts Inventory Catalogue
 
Artist   Maxwell Gordon
Title   Lower New York 
Medium   oil on canvas 
Size   18.2 x 24 in. / 46.4 x 61 cm.
Misc.   Signed, Inscribed
Sale Of   Skinner: Friday, September 7, 2007
[Lot 695]
American & European Paintings & Prints 
Estimate   600 - 800 USD 
Sold For   *   

http://www.rare-Posters.com/5239.html
Item Number: 5239 
Title: Help Britain Defend America  Artist: Max Gordon  Date: 1942?   Size: 16.5"x27"
Comments: Bold and rarely seen production related poster published by Committee
to Defend America by Aiding the Allies. Shows swastika imprinted Nazi boot
about to stomp on New York City. Great and dramatic imagery and printing.
First specimen I have seen of this great poster.
Price: $695  Condition: A-, linen mounted, fine color, trace of fold marks as issued.

 LOOKING  print size:  17" X  22"   price:  $175.00

1.
"Red Riding Hood" © Maxwell Gordon print size:  17" X 19 1/8" price:$200.00

2."After The Sorm" © Maxwell Gordon Print Size: 17" X 12 1/2" Price:  $200.00

3."Wounded Angle" print size:  16" X 21 1/3" Price:$175.00

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