NOT IN OUR GENES/THE IMAGINATION MACHINE
by Jon Rappoport
I once had a geneticist tell me, "You know, we're going to
discover the genes for promiscuity, for anti-social behavior, for
compassion, for obesity, hair-loss, anger, and fear. We're going to
discover the genes for everything."
He said this with the kind of authority only a scientist can
muster...based on no proof at all. Zero proof. It's a talent, to be able
to impart blather and make it sound like experimental evidence.
As a reporter for 30 years, I've spent much time exposing how
medical, political, economic, and social realities are imposed on
populations, on people. But here's an odd question and and an even odder
answer:
Who are "people?"
Answer: Most people are secret agents.
Their mission? To disguise---first and foremost, from
themselves---the fact that they have enormous imagination and creative
ability.
Achieving this concealment is on the order of blocking out the sun.
It is a complex task of deception. The pretense is
multi-layered. One line of defense goes like this: I DON'T KNOW WHAT
YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT. ME? I'M JUST AN ORDINARY PERSON.
Yes, an ordinary person cast in a role in a stage play.
Let's say I'm the director. "Okay, I've cast you in the
role.. Now I want you to assume all the characteristics of an average
guy. You understand? I don't want any leaks or cracks. You character has
to be bulletproof. You grasp what is ordinary, and you are totally
ignorant when it comes to what is extraordinary. Got it? MOST OF ALL,
YOUR CHARACTER MUST BE DEVOID OF IMAGINATION. Do you think you can
handle that?"
People do handle it all the time, and they do it beautifully. Brilliantly.
They have their lines down cold. No matter what you throw at
them, they can fend it off and leave the impression, for you and for
themselves, that they don't know anything about imagination.
For them, imagination is a car in a garage under a thousand tons of concrete and steel. They will never drive it.
They can walk and talk, they can accomplish tasks, they can
be entertained, they can have fun, they can even think and solve
problems, but they can't create anything. That's their gig. Their role.
There are a whole lot of people who believe ordinary humans
are ordinary because it's in their genes; some people are dealt good
genes and some aren't. This is completely false. It's not a question of
genes.
Genes are a story that's told to keep everyone in the dark.
The real and true story is about imagination. When you think
about it, the ability to cast one's self in the role of "ordinary human"
is a fantastic act of imagination. It's strange, because, essentially, a
human being is using his imagination TO DENY HE HAS ANY IMAGINATION.
He's creating the role. He's imagining that role and fitting himself
into it.
Why in the world would he do that?
Well, there are lots of answers to that question, but the
real proof comes when a person you would never think had any imagination
whatsoever emerges from the swamp and becomes intensely creative. I've
seen that many times, and it's extraordinary.
He was playing the role of Ordinary Person in the stage
play...and then he was gone from that play and that role...and he was
quite, quite different.
And from that point on, his life was never the same.
I've been painting for 50 years now. I've had some
interesting experiences with people who look at my work. The work isn't
realistic at all. My paintings are what people like to call abstract.
I'm not sure what that means, except the paintings don't look like what
you see on the street or in your living room.
Once, a man gazed at some paintings of mine in my studio and
said, "I have no idea what this is. It doesn't make any sense to me at
all."
He was an intelligent fellow, but he was completely put off
by the pictures. For some reason, I suddenly felt I could get him to
understand.
So I said, "I'm going to try a little experiment with you,
okay? Will you play along for a minute? Imagine you do understand the
paintings."
It was a moment, and everything happened to be poised in the right way.
He turned away from me and looked at the paintings again.
He started perspiring. Within a few seconds, his face was covered in sweat.
He grinned and started laughing.
He turned back to me.
"How did you know?" he said.
I just shook my head.
Essentially, he was asking me how I knew he could offload his
act as ordinary person and plug into his imagination all of a sudden.
This moment had nothing to do with my work. It had everything
to do with him dropping his hold on the fictional role in which his
comprehension was narrowly set in stone.
He had just imagined his way out of that role. He imagined he
could understand something entirely foreign to him...and so he could.
This man was a chemist. For 40-some-odd years he had
pretended he could only navigate within a range of information...and all
of a sudden he pretended he could step outside that range. And it
worked like a charm.
A bubble of enclosed reality burst.
It isn't just that people enter the stage play by inventing
roles in which they have no imagination. No, the PLAY ITSELF has this
central theme. The play is all about life without imagination. The whole
drama moves forward on that basis.
If that cover story is blown, and all the secret agents
emerge out of their cocoons, well, then, we would really have something.
We would have, among other things, an endless proliferation of realities, and freedom will then have true meaning...
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