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Coffee Coaster Beaniegram

January 19, 2015


Latest Beans

Brian's Column-Article
After 9/11 Truth, Chapter 5
The Inner Game: Finding Our Authentic Swings

“Physician, heal thyself.” — Jesus

Years ago, when I was just starting out as a cause-oriented sort of fellow, I wish someone had exposed me to a brief lesson such as what I’m about to try to impart. It may have saved me—and those around me—a lot of ‘sturm und drang' accomplishing very little positive, healing, or lasting.

It’s not a radical discovery by any means, but one seldom appreciated by those setting out to slay dragons: Namely, to be most effective in the pursuit of noble deeds for ‘all of society,’ one must first expel the internal demons that limit our own fulfillment. Eckhart Tolle puts it as follows: [Full Column]

Book Review
The Longest Walk (2015)
“My epic trek from tip to tip of the Americas” (1977-1983),
Author’s Edition by George Meegan

Sure there’s a lot of background to the ultimate edition of a sleeper book that I expect will fire the popular imagination of large numbers of youth of the world who still read… in no time at all. George Meegan is a one-of-a-kinder, who grew up from nothing in jolly ol’ England, dreamed of being an adventurer, dropped out of school to join the British merchant marine, then decided one day he would walk the Americas from South to North. And did.

This account doesn’t have any counterpart in the literature of the ages: it’s at once a journal and also an ever-morphing flow of humanity through the window of an intrepid Englishman’s eyes and shoes (twelve pair, 19,019 miles). It’s an indescribable delight to join with this work as its final editor, to appreciate the original writing, of course, yet also the fine editing work performed by exceptionally caring individuals at Dodd, Mead, and Company before it succumbed to death by the conglomerates—here’s the kicker, Dodd, Mead went belly up just as Longest Walk the First is about to go to press! [Full Column]


Movie Review

Out of the Past (1947)
Post war (ww2), intricately plotted film noir __ 8/10

From the gitgo, we see a character in Bailey that’s somewhat damaged. Which fits with reality in the main. When you have laws against victimless crimes—chiefly gambling and drugs—most cops with any degree of normality in them yield to the market (i.e. humane behavior) in some way. They know that what they’re supposed to be apprehending people for isn’t a real crime, and probably 50% of the popos have no burning desire to bash ordinary people for succumbing to “vices.” So to be a moral person in those circumstances demands that a cop “look the other way.” [Full Column]

Guest Column
Directions in Thought Control
Thought-controlled classroom: orgy of the group
Excerpt of Column by Jon Rappoport 20150114

“In the middle of all the brain-research going on, from one end of the planet to the other, there is the assumption that the individual doesn’t really exist. He’s a fiction. There is only the motion of particles in the brain. Therefore, nothing is inviolate, nothing is protected. Make the brain do A, make it do B; it doesn’t matter. What matters is harmonizing these tiny particles, in order to build a collective consensus, in order to force a science of behavior.” (The Underground, Jon Rappoport) [Full Column]

 

Quote of the Week

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar:
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home
Nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death
Thanks to the human heart by which we live,
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.

Condensed from Wordsworth (
A River Runs Through It)


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