Wonderful, Incredible, Thick Industrialism

The Mysticism of Industrialism

This is a thing about the thickness of industrialism, as perceived intuitively and internally. It's a beautiful thing.

But like most things involving mysticism or spirituality in general, to communicate the experience in a meaningful way for others is difficult. What I will do, then, is not worry so much whether I'm communicating anything in particular, as I would intend, but just hope that the spirit of the thing might be something that might do you some good as well.

Even now I'm excited by the feeling of sitting in a spacious factory after hours, listening intently for the various sounds that happen. Of course I have my own tire factory in my back yard, and a warehouse, and an electrical generating plant, so I have some great places to engage in the exhilarating work of the spirit. In addition, I have very good neighbors, who allow me to visit their factories anytime I want. As I have some of these deeper experiences, I will try to convey something of that, as a matter of blessing, I hope for one and all.

Have you ever given a really close focus to something? Most people have, I know. But there is a focus beyond just the eyes or just a conscious picture of a particular thing. If you think of someone staring at a candle, that's the same as having a conscious picture of a particular thing. There is a focus you can glimpse beyond that, if (and this is a big if) you are content to see it for a second or less. For me, any kind of trying to cling to it breaks the spell and leads to frustration. But if I'm willing to focus on it for a split second, then see it beyond, not as staring at it, but as realizing it in the background, as though I'm behind it and not encroaching on it, it is "seen" for a little while longer. Consciousness is both your friend and your enemy, your enemy if you try to consciously picture it, but your friend if you see it in this indirect way.

Sitting in my own factory -- how beautiful, my own factory -- I can hear the drip, drip, drip of a pipe. I know that's my sink. Maybe you didn't know this, but there's a certain amount of water needed to make tires. You need to cool the tread after giving it its final layer of rubber. That settles it and makes it tougher. Or something like that. What I actually know about the science of making tires is very little. I just follow a recipe I got somewhere in an old tire manual. The point I'm trying to make is, with water you get some interesting drip, drip, drip noises. I really like it when that happens. It speaks to me of going beyond, since its job is finished as it relates to the tire, but its continuance nonetheless has a useful function spiritually for me, a coincidence that may have a more dynamic intent behind it.

The focus then gives way to going beyond the focus. Something very "lugubrious" happens. Is that the right word? What I mean is something very "heavy" happens, possibly starting in the legs and working its way up, or, alternatively, starting in the forehead area and working its way down. This heaviness is fascinating but also not without its frustrating element. Much as I said above, the whole thing of being conscious of experiences can be a detriment. But as for myself, I have a tough time getting past that. So, again, as said above, I'm finding some contentment in those stray seconds of insight -- like maybe you don't really need much more than that.

These drips lead to a lot of thought. I was at the park one day and something about this really hit me. Have you ever really examined one of these picnic tables at the park, the ones like this: they're metallic with a plastic overlay and they have thousands of holes in them? They're not like the old fashioned picnic tables that have a solid surface. If you know what I'm talking about, look underneath one the next time you see it. What you'll see is thousands of drips of plastic stuff caught in mid-drip. It's an interesting thing! In the factory where they were made, they obviously dipped it in something liquid, then it all hardened in mid-drip. That's a beautiful picture of something very spiritual, that I would recommend you aim for!

I hope these picnic tables are made by someone in the Residential Industrial Movement. If not, I hope they're made by someone who doesn't entirely adhere to the standards of the major industrialists. Because they're on to something, they must have a very humane approach. I'd like to sit in one of their factories after dark, just to see how righteous they are. Can you imagine what it must be like to hear that plastic drip, drip, dripping ... then suddenly to hear it quit dripping? Question: What if it continued to drip in your mind? Would that excite you?

Thank you for joining me in this mental/spiritual exercise. I'm sorry if it doesn't make much sense. I probably will allow these posts infrequently, lest I lose your support on a daily basis. Thank you for thinking of me. You must know I'm thinking of you.