Harry's World

Harry’s World-

by Jack Underhill

www.augustawindpress.com

Smashwords Edition

Copyright, 2013 Jack Underhill

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 97-73291

You are the master of every situation

from a Chinese fortune cookie

Contents

Preface

Introduction

Harry’s World.

Preface

Our parents used to do this thing about truth and fiction with us kids. We'd say, Ummm, we saw this real old guy in the alley and he went up this thing of light and disappeared, and they'd say to us, Truth or Fiction? This'd give us a chance to rethink things.

We'd say, Mom, the reason we're late is this Indian tied us to ponies and switched them and they took us into the desert and they lay down on the ground and we almost couldn't breathe and the crows saved us. She'd look at us really hard and we'd say, Fiction, even if the story was true. Because we were learning to calculate what they considered acceptable reality. We were in training to say what we knew would be accepted which wasn't always what we knew or perceived. It was always rubbish for some and gospel for others.

When the stress of trying to figure out what was truth and fiction got to be too much for me I turned dyslexic. This opened me up quite a bit. Because I couldn't remember patterns or associations, I couldn't use memory well. I believed pretty much everything I was told even when it conflicted. Everything was new and true. I took what was given, tided along on a benevolent destiny and was lived by life with no interference on my part. I had only a vague grasp of time and space, logic, cause and effect, consistency, sin and loyalty. I was no longer punished for failing to say the truth or doing the right thing because I was now considered mentally retarded, and therefore home free.

Maybe when you're really innocent the angels look after you. Since you have no idea of what you're getting into most of the time they take up the slack of your pure and magnificent ignorance. That's how so many of us make it through childhood. But you can't fake it. You can't tempt angels by getting yourself purposely into a jam to see if they'll rescue you. Once you get to where you'd even think of such a test they'll have pulled back. They'll know now that you can fend for yourself, that you have leaped away from the protective cradling of grace.

My fall from this grace came very late in life in New York City back in the 60's. I was just thirty when I decided that I was going to be like everyone else and have terrific problems, want things more than anything and never get them. I'd fall in love and be trashed, never have enough money or respect and fail at what I tried. I wanted to be human, is what it was. I wanted to know what it is to be committed to certain beliefs no matter how stupid and have them wrench my crummy life along. I was tired of riding the tide of God's great love and care for me. It was hard being this sanctified outcast in the midst of so much cool suffering. I wanted some too. My angels listened politely and when I was through they kissed me, shook my hand and went home. From then on I was pretty much on my own. It was the day of my birth into life as I saw and needed it then.

Of course the angels still keep an eye on me same as they do with all of us here, only they don't dwell with me as they used to. I'll see them in a glance from someone on the street, or in a pinpoint of floating light peripherally. I feel them in helpless laughter or sudden weeping where I suddenly understand something. I see them in animals; once my wife and I were watching some Holsteins grazing in a pasture in Ballyshannon, Ireland. One came over to sniff at me, looked into my eyes deeply, suddenly these huge tears welled up and began falling from her eyes, big crystalline drops, and then she licked my face. What did she see?

Introduction

Can a single cell decide to make some choices not implanted in it through genes and the momentum of all that has come before? Can that which is you or me make any difference in the way the body moves? Can you and me among our family of six billion or so sway the body off the iron tracks that take it in the same circle over and over, set it free of what has been and send it into the wilderness of what we yearn for? Can we move beyond memory?

I think so. Call it mutation, paradigm shift, Apocalypse, Armageddon, but it happens all the time, it is normal, it is the way of life, it is Genesis intrinsically. One cell makes some original choices and this affects the entire body, infinitesimally at first. Like a benign cancer it infects the cells nearest it with its dangerous new notions which spread throughout the body battling the immune system at every step until the immune system itself is altered. I see Christ in this context, the single cell in each of us waiting to be triggered.

This personal re-defining came together when I decided to bring back to life the child I gave up long ago in order to become a generic man. I wanted more than anything else in life to have the real skinny on things, not just the popular truths I had learned in order to play the Game. To do this I had to get past the fixed ideas and mental reflexes that operated me. I needed new visceral definitions to old world concepts I'd been injected with early on. Ideally I wanted no definitions at all, just life like I used to know it when I was retarded, but if I had to live by mental constructs I'd better clean them up so they amplified my power of choice instead of further eroding it.

These re-definitions come from my dreams, deaths and resurrections, from surreal adventures, the mystical, and epic burlesques. Because I am seeking something I can't really identify, because the very language I write is structured to avoid my getting at what I seek, and because I am 99% other people's thoughts, patterns, habits and superstitions passed down with extreme prejudice over the eons, I stagger and stampede through a lot of territory in this manuscript drawing out secrets from a deeper intelligence within me that I might not find if I used a more reasonable or academic tone. The purpose of this writing was to force me to bust up a lot of sacred tracts entraining me to a way of life where every move I made, every thought of escape, every tremendous burst of will to get loose only sped up my hurtling down that ancient set of rails laid in my mind.

The following definitions are unalphabetized because I am unalphabetized, and because of an inner design that came into the work early on.

Resurrection is remembering our real identity. In this recall is the total freedom we have been looking for. All the great Teachers' fundamental message is: What you see in me is in you, what you see me do, you do, and, All that I am is God, same as you. Maybe this is important to at least consider. Maybe not.

Harry’s World

Heaven: The paradise I seek.

Hell: The paradise where I seem to be.

Human Being: Heaven and Hell.

The Game: Hide-and-seek as a vocation.

Popularly known as Life. The purpose of the Game is to challenge the soul by setting up problems that monopolize our lives in the solving. As in the game of Monopoly™, we use life as the board, bank and properties, and ourselves as the gaming pieces, dice, and draw cards for punishment and good fortune.

The Game, a.k.a. the Lie, the System, the Frame, the Illusion, is the organizing principal of civilization providing an understandable matrix categorizing existence into systems of rules and regulations we internalize in our formative years. Once we accept our gaming piece and the bank's money we relinquish our non-game independence in order to become players. From the first roll of the dice until we win or lose the Game we are challenged to work out the seemingly unsolvable paradoxes that make playing so compelling: How do I ever get free if I play by others' rules? How can I be truly human and still play a game that seeks to impoverish myself and others? If I live a lie is anything in my life true? Can I protect my children from the terrible corrosiveness of this game yet still help prepare them as effective players when it is this very corrosiveness that makes them more effective players? Then how do I explain that winning this particular game is by losing it?

Fear is the main dynamic of the Game, fear of there being too much or not enough, fear of life and fear of death. It is a very confusing game. The meaning of things shifts continually. Sometimes up is up but it can also be down. In is in until you get in and it turns out you're out. Sometimes it is smart to be dumb. Weakness is power, ignorance wisdom, poverty wealth and good is bad. Death is finality but then some of us die and swear there is no such thing, that if anything we are almost dead now and when we do die we're finally alive. Honesty is not the best policy, scarcity is plenty relatively speaking, abundance not enough, truth fiction and suffering the norm and very good for you. A little consciousness is good and more consciousness is dangerous as hell, and inadvisable if you want to keep on playing the Game.

As children we are tantalized by grownups and older siblings into playing but to really get in we have to stop seeing it as a game and take it for real. This is the Fall. It makes sense to play only as long as we believe it is all there is. But when we give up believing this we are free to step out of the Game and still maintain access to it as freelancers who've moved beyond the rules of others.

Successful challengers of the Game are often called a god, §on of God®, dead, ascended, a saint or insane.

Language: The tongue of the Game of Life, the words.

Without fear there is one language understood by us all that is eternal and un-created. With fear there are as many languages as there are people, the purpose of the language being to reinforce traditional dogma governing players' lives. Language is defining the indefinable. To really understand something we must be it. Language is created on the assumption that this is not possible—if we are human we cannot be anything else, but we can describe it all.

If we have 300 words for water in our desert tribe, we may be closer to being water than if we are in a land of lakes. We may feel more like water because so much of us has gone into loving it out of its scarcity. In this way we use language to bring us back toward our original knowing. We thirst to know. We push language to get to the original deep springs of understanding that once united us. The harmonic of poetry, singing and chanting weaves nuances of words, rearranges the rhythms, music and vibration of written and spoken symbols and phrases connected to original feelings to evoke more than word patterns generally convey. It uses intuitive mathematics and geometry—music—in its fluid arrangements of syllables, tone, euphony to ease open word cases like cocoons to free the unexpressed life within.

The power of the word is generally in conflict with the power of What Is. But words are our consensual preference for communication since without them there is no separation, therefore no misunderstanding, therefore no fear, therefore no Game and thus no experiencing our way back to original knowing. We go to jail to learn about being free. We learn language to finally escape its power to separate us from what we are.

Joe: What about where Benny the Fix says if it can be said, it's not true?

Aaron: At the risk of paradox, I'd say it's true. Joe:But how can you be sure?

Aaron: Well, let's talk about that.

Duality: Able and Cain't, Jacob and Esau, Joseph and