The Users-Guide

by: Don Warrick

The true value of a human being is determined primarily by the measure and the sense in which he has attained to liberation from the self. ~ A. Einstein

First of all, I have realized, that all signs point to the same thing, a single ultimate truth. I have also realized that words are just little pointers, very limited, tiny, weensy pointers; but they are the tools we have.

Many people are talking about a revolution in consciousness or at very least, the evolution of human-being consciousness. Western scientists are talking about it, they just have a tendency to try and measure things they dont have instruments for.

Zen Saying: When the only tool you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail.

Life is a journey, a story unfolding, or at least that is what we are told from the time we are old enough to complete our own sentences. We dont live life, we manifest it. We write and review, edit and reference a continuous barrage of objects. Planes, trains and automobiles, bikes toys, girls, boys, sushi,

quantum physics, baseball, apples and random thoughts. Once the faucet of our minds opens up, a continuous stream of processing begins and we are never told about what's real and what's not.

For us, we assume that everything we are thinking contributes to our context with content. We absolutely believe that the life we are living, and the person we are creating to live that life is unique, identifiable, singular, and special. We also believe that the qualities of mind that we have harnessed provide all the building blocks to reaching an understanding of who we are.

Once this loose assemblage of thought is collected and categorized, flipped, filed and sorted, we finally sit cross legged on the floor like a kid with a collection of baseball cards. There they all are. Sorted. Laid out in front of us and we muse that this is the engine of who we are.

At some point, when we have collected all the cards in a given set, we move on to the next set of cards; making sure that we collect all those. Eventually, the collection becomes a vast panorama of cards, laid out on an infinite shag carpet on an infinite living room floor. We sit there binoculars at the ready, cause we cant see the rows of cards in the nether regions without optical enhancement.

The mind is an amazing computer.

All that data, laid out on the floor. All the stats for every player, every inning, every ERROR, every at bat. There we sit, drooling bubblegum spittle as we chew through the cardboard flavored bubblegum that comes with each pack of life-cards. Our sweater wet with our own pink drool, we dream about next season's cards and how we will collect them all. We fantasize about adding them to the rows out there where only our inner Magellan travels, out at the horizon line that our mind has made.

In some of us, there begins a glimmer. As if a far distant bell has sounded that we cant quite hear. A feeling, a nagging, a low level hum that begins the questioning in our own minds; about our own minds.

After some time, and looking occasionally for the source of the noise, we start to wonder odd thoughts about our own perceived reality. We check, and double check the cards laid out in front of us and they return the same information that they have always contained. Batting averages, stolen bases, concrete facts and figures with handsome pictures of perfect athletes holding

Louisville Sluggers. Everything appears solid. All is well in the universe. Except that nagging ache that tells us something at the core aint quite right.

Finally one day, off in the far corner of our mind's living room we notice one of those pedestal fans, the kind that they bring out on the end caps at Wally world at the end of Spring and we fail to notice that it is plugged into the socket that is run by the switch near the bathroom door. We stand up to go to the kitchen for that bowl of Captain Crunch and we inadvertently flip the switch on the wall, not remotely aware of what the result will be. The fan clicks on. We look back at the shag rug in the living room just in time to see our cards shift a bit. Then the fan rotation starts and cards are airborne. We run back to the switch and turn off the fan, but it is too late. Our nice neat arrangement of reality has been irrevocably disturbed.

Just wait until mom comes home. Boy will we get it.

Chapter One -

The Original DNA Computer

Is it any wonder that the technological-physical realization of personal computers and networks should closely resemble the way the human mind works? I guess it shouldnt come as a surprise, or rather...duh.

I think computer viruses should count as life. I think it says something about human nature that the only form of life we have created so far is purely destructive. We've created life in our own image. -Stephen Hawking

We know very little about the actual integrated functionality of the brain, the mind and consciousness. Most of what we do know is "best guess".

There are a couple important factoids that offer some clarity to the similarity between mind and computer.

For one, neuroscientists are all in agreement that there are two hemispheres to the brain, a left and a right. Many are eager to describe their function in computer-eez. The left brain is like a "serial processor". This is a computer that does one thing at

a time, then moves on to the next process. This "Step-wise" computer is in charge (or so our best guess tells us) of language, memory, sequential problem solving, sensory input and filing. Lots and lots of filing. The right brain is built like a parallel processor. In the world of parallel processing tremendous efficiency is achieved by operating in a non linear way. This processor slices and dices data in every possible direction simultaneously and then assembles the results on the back end. Neuroscientists believe this to be the "creative" side of the brain.

Knowing that there are two distinctly different processors at work can help us understand how to run our own native homo sapien code most efficiently. That is the central message of this manual. It is at the heart of understanding who we are. Two computers. One entity. Human dual-core processing that has been way over clocked. One might even suggest that this over clocking has created a little over-heating. Friction is a bitch.

OK, so lets analyze the system a bit. We have twin processors with major horse power. What about peripherals? How about an I/O (input-output) device? You are one.

Sensory devices abound on the human computer giving us data on: Touch, taste, sight, smell and sound. Our entire physiological mechanism is a great big I/O device that is out there in the objective world defining reality and sending data to the CPU. It also gets us conveniently back and forth to Seven Eleven and is handy for achieving all kinds of elevated states.

For the purposes of this exploration, we will simply refer to the body as the flesh transport unit or FTU.

The FTU is slick. With so many HTI (Human Touch Interface) devices built-on, we have no need for a keyboard. And lets talk about visual/optical. Fah-get-about-it

Aside from the real time visual acuity of the eye which is something on the order of 576 mega pixels, we have the ability to recall from three kinds of memory something like 1000 terabytes of information. Of course trying to get an exact scientific fix on this number is like trying to hold onto a buttered snake. Needless to say the old internal screen has some serious resolution, the processors are smokin and we aren't hurting for RAM either.

So where does this analogy take us? What's your point the well meaning traveler inquires. The point for me is a very personal one. It wasnt until I was able to build a model in my head of what my head was doing; that I was able to start controlling the madness.

My mind was continuously flush with ideas, thoughts, images, tunes, themes, diagnosis, counting, sorting and information flow. I watched every bit and byte and believed that everything I saw on the display was real.

I really believed this data stream answered the question: Who am I?

For me, the one thing that I couldn't find was the power-switch. There had to be a sleep mode but I couldnt access the code, find the switch or press the right button.

I had tried everything. All the sedatives the modern world offers both internal and external. I had been a spiritual seeker and a guy consuming way too many spirits. I was inside out and upside down, and couldn't find the freakin' plug to pull.

There had to be a way to <CTRL-ALT-DELETE>.