I’ll have the irascible milquetoast

with a side of snide. Oh, and another thing…

Archive for April, 2008

What Happened to Werner Erhart and est?

Posted by phroedrick on April 25, 2008

This was the question I poked into a Google and a Yahoo search. Jesus, is there a lot of stuff on him out there in the Cyber-universe. Very little of it is complimentary, not that I or Werner or a whole bunch of us who went through the original training in the 1970s gives a shit. It doesn’t matter, and it doesn’t matter that it doesn’t matter (paraphrasing Erhart)

Yes, he was a used car salesman. Yes, he likely did have some physical run-ins with an ex-wife. Women can be pretty combative, too. Yes, there appears to be a merging of Scientology (a ‘religion’ founded by a lousy writer of science fiction whose best all time seller is Dianetics), some Esalin, some Dale Carnegie, and many other disciplines, including a smattering of Sufism.

Many, new creative things of the mind and of, say, consumer goods, breakthrough drugs, new technologies and so on WERE ALL combinations of other research, publications by PhDs working in various fields, and even someone as simple as a shoe maker. Why criticize Erhart for doing what every individual, company, and group does every day. A synthesis of existing ideas often creates a new horizon. Anyone having a problem with that can leave the room; You have no agreement to sit there.

It is true that a segment of those who completed the two weekend event (the Training) picked up and used a lot of est’s internal jargon, took it into the world and tried to use it with people NOT having been through the experience. This created great resistance, and those who used the jargon publicly were known as, “est holes.”

Let’s take that a little further by going backward. Rumi, a Sufi poet who lived over a thousand years ago said (paraphrasing), ‘the one hanging by the neck from the tree is the one who could not keep the secrets.’ Are the Sufis a cult–no. Was est a cult, no it was not.

We all came through the end of the second weekend having done something we called, “getting it,” or, “got it.” Each and every one of the ‘graduates’ will use different words to describe what ‘getting it,’ meant. In large measure this is founded in our lack of understanding the meaning of words. For example, if some one says, ‘the sky is very blue today,’ your mental picture of the color, ‘very blue,’ is quite different than my image of the color, ‘very blue.’ Another example–someone says, ‘I am a spiritual person.’ The words, ‘I am a person,’ are fine, yet what my picture of a person is is quite likely different from yours. The biggest problem with the phrase, ‘I am a spiritual person,’ is in the meaning of, ’spiritual.’ What does, ’spiritual,’ mean, really? Does it mean the you you call, ‘I,’ likes animals, is a vegetarian as you believe it is better for you and the Earth, believes in a being larger than yourself, a father or mother of creation, that you meditate without the guidance of a teacher or spiritual master? Just what the fuck do you mean?!!

‘Getting it,’ for me took the form of an interval of unknown length (perhaps no length at all; out of time) when the dialoging with my mind (we all have that affliction) suddenly stopped. I did not know it had stopped until it started up again. When it did I knew things I had not known before, I knew experientially that there is no past, there is no future, there is only NOW, this moment. A moment of that nature is life altering and my life took some dramatic turns following that April in 1975. I took risks I would not have taken before, as in quitting a regular job and starting a business. It worked wonderfully well. I started three more until 2000. They all were profitable, based on delivering what was promised, and going beyond just meeting expectations (another quagmire). It became easier to step off the edge and risk. See, risking IS living.

I again turn to Rumi: “Now is the only moment there is.” A Sufi Master once told me as I was driving him to the airport in pouring rain, “You know at every moment everything is in balance.” A dedicated Sufi of many years on his path once told me, “There is something in every moment.” Another Sufi Master, Hazrat Shah Angha, asked a seeker, “Why are you here?” The seeker said, “To find God.” Angha replied, “God is not lost, you are lost.” I once sat before a Sufi Master he asked, “Why are you here?” Do you see a pattern and directness to this question? I replied, “I want to know if there is life after death and do we reincarnate?” He responded, “Why are you worried about another life when you cannot handle the one you have.”

Referencing above the recombination of disciplines into a realization beyond time and words, it is said Erhart, ‘ripped off,’ Scientology, and did so to other groups. Here the assertion is worth making that there was more Zen and Sufism in est than just about anything else.

Essentially, Werner Erhart and est had some 700,000 people go through the, ‘training,’ before he took leave and turned it over to a group that now calls the training, ‘The Forum.’ I sat through it once and it is not the same as the original ‘est training,’ and I cannot say more as it would only be conjecture and as useless as bagged fertilizer.

Get this, if nothing else from reading these words: You can change who your are, your belief system, your actions, and everything about you in an instant. Yes, in an instant. When that moment comes what difference does your, ‘past,’ make? What does you future look like to you, a rehash of your, ‘past?’ What does it matter if Erhart was a used car salesman? So What? Who Cares? What he is NOW, in this moment, is the only Erhart who exists.

Those who don’t know speak. Those who know remain silent. As such, enough is now written here and so it stops.

I leave this post with this: Who you are is not your body, not your thoughts, not the stories about your life and predicament, not your health, not your car, not your job, not your impressive social circle, not your money, nothing. The YOU you are rides around in the flesh-bag of your body, which is not even your own and is borrowed from the earth, air, water and so on. It imprisons YOU. Someday YOU will leave it behind and return what it borrowed to its rightful owner–the Earth.

Posted in Estamos Aquí | 6 Comments »

How will you celebrate Exploit-the-Earth Day?

Posted by Ritter on April 21, 2008


Perhaps I shall combine all my trash, be it glass, paper, plastic, whatever, into a single garbage can without even so much as a passing thought to consider dividing it up into separate bins. My little town provides recycling containers. I have a bright red one. I use it as a cover for a pail of sidewalk de-icing salt. Works fine. I guess you could say I’ve recycled my recycling bin.

Gosh, golly, imagine if everyone would do this; we could cut the number of garbage trucks on the road in half. Save the Earth: Stop Recycling Now!

But wait! This just in: Wind farms are a-comin’ — I’ll just set my bright red recycling bin underneath one of these avian Cuisinarts and collect pâté. Hot off the wing.

Google wants to know what I will do for Earth Day. I told them.

UPDATE: 4/23 — Apparently Google was unimpressed with my suggestions. However, some of the other ideas are pretty funny. I wonder how these slipped by the Google greenie gatekeepers?

From Jody in Slovenia: Use an old fashoned encyclopedia instead of google so the server farm energy useage falls.

From Don in Slovenia: Light a wood burning fire and turn down the A/C to 68.

Gotta love those Slovenians!

Posted in Envy Ron Mentalism, Real Itchin' | 2 Comments »

Nuke you, Lars. Waste not, want not.

Posted by Ritter on April 6, 2008

This CBS 60 Minutes article got me to thinkin’ ’bout a new domicile:

Yucca Mountain sits on federal land in Nevada, not far from Death Valley, in a remote stretch of desert, 90 miles northwest of Las Vegas. The nearest commercial establishment is a brothel 15 miles away.

As a former friend put it, “Sounds pretty seductive with all this fancy marketing language, eh? Now, if there was a general store at the brothel…”

Ah, so that’s why it’s so expensive; the amenities. And, of course, the remote stretch. Ahhh, that felt good. The remote stretch.

Doing my part to enlighten those of you in the “ninety percent of the country [who have] no idea where Yucca Mountain is,” I provide the following link. So, now you have joined that elite 10%. Congratulations! Your prize will be shipped within the next 8-10 years er, weeks. Of course, now that I know where Yucca Mountain is, I realize that it’s too close to Las Vegas, so…

While not right up against Yucca Mt., Crescent Valley does at least have the potential to be on a rail line hauling nuclear waste to the facility. Yes, potential: that which to which we have yet to live up.

Speaking of living up, lots of small town business establishments fulfill multiple needs of the surrounding populace: you know — real estate, ammunition, antiques, beef jerky, bail bonds, used cars, embroidered pillows and gasoline. So, I’m gonna go out on a limb here and venture to say that the typical brothel in Nevada does indeed include a general store. Wonder if the employees multi-task.

<FADE IN: the simulated pecky cedar wood grain laminate checkout counter in a multi-purpose general store manned (is that the word?) by a scantily clad woman in her early 70s. Her name tag, strategically pinned, reads “Madame Roux, Realtor/Facilitator”>

“May I take your order, sir?”

“Yes, I want a case of those spearmint-flavored beef jerky things, a pair of those embroidered Elvis pillows, and 15 minutes of consensual sex.”

“Will that be for here or to go?”

“For here. Oh, and I almost forgot, I need to pick up a little 40-acre parcel of parched, featureless desert land downwind of the big Yucca.”

“No problem. Anything else?”

“Yeah, a 60×200 General Steel aircraft hangar.”

“Cash or charge?”

“Charge. Can I get it all gift wrapped?”

“No, I’m so sorry. Our gift-wrapping associate is tied up with another customer. We don’t expect her to be released from… er available for another day or two.”

“Really? Well, then forget it.”

“Sir! You want me to restock all this stuff? You’ll have to pay a restocking charge.”

“Oh yeah? How much is that?”

“15 minutes of non-consensual sex.”

She removes her name tag and plunks it down on the simulated pecky cedar wood grain countertop with a deft yet clumsy movement that reveals… She is a he. Well, partially. Sort of. Maybe. Hard to tell. Perhaps it’s the ambient radiation? The heat?

“You gotta be kidding! I already paid at the office.”

<FADE OUT: security personnel approach from various directions>

Tune in again next week when Nuclear Waste Man returns in an apparition near you.

Posted in Gub Mint | 11 Comments »