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~ From a 1984 talk in Akron, Ohio—Part 2
(continued from the December 2003 TAT Forum)
Last month we had the first part of the talk by this title given in Irwin, PA. This month we'll begin serializing the talk by this title given the same year in Akron, OH. The first parts of the two talks are different, reflecting how Rose always tailored his talks to the audience.
We have a few other things we do in the TAT Society. We're always trying to move with the times and come up with any invention which will lead us closer to that rare group of people who understand what we're doing, and who understand the philosophy.
In the last ten years we've settled on a farm down there [the Rose family farm]—we've got a country retreat of about 160 acres—and just recently also we've acquired property for a women's ashram. We segregate the women from the men so that the one won't distract the other. In fact, we're thinking about turning the women's ashram into a baby colony. We're going to make one of the requirements for the women there that they have to be pregnant or have a young child. [Jokingly:] We're going to get some followers for this movement one way or the other. So maybe we'll do like the old missionaries—get a school started if we can't educate them any other way.
Basically what I'm trying to say is we are here to help people. And there are many layers and levels of helping people. The hardest thing that you can try to do is to think you can convince somebody of your line of thinking if they haven't already thought about it. The most you can do is find people who think pretty much the same as yourself and inspire them to remember that they knew it before.
Now, of course in saying that, I also believe that all information in the world today is in everybody's head here tonight. All the information that has ever been known in any department, whether it is electronic science, chemistry, or whatever—that is in everybody's head. And there is a manner of tapping it, there's a manner of getting to that information.
In other words, if you concentrate on things long enough, your head opens up to the information that was there all the time. And I say this because of the evidence of some people like savant idiots, if you've read of those recently, of people who are really like mongoloid idiots that suddenly come out with information that is wisdom. (In Issue 12 of the TAT Journal, we have an article on the savant-idiot.)
For instance, they had one on TV, a fellow who could play classical music on the piano like a virtual genius, and that's about all he could do. He was the equivalent of an imbecile or a mongoloid idiot. Another fellow seemed to look very normal, but there was something wrong with him. But he could tell you any date of any year—you just name it, and he would give you the day of the week. And they'd check him mathematically and he'd be right. They had him in front of the TV camera, and in just a few minutes he'd come up with the answer. For instance they'd say, "In April 28, 1432, what day of the week did it fall on?" And he'd tell them within three or four minutes.
And how he did it, no one could understand. But the wisdom—both these people, when they asked them, "How'd you do this?"—both of them said, "God."
So I am never disappointed when only a few people show up. Because your hope is always to find people somewhat in the same stage of savant idiocy as yourself. And then you can communicate. And you're very lucky if you do, and you're much more lucky if you get a good-sized crowd.
What I'd like for you to do, when I run out of wind, is to start asking questions. Because one of the things in communication is—I'm talking to people with all different backgrounds. As the old farmer said, "Many paths lead to the barn." So nobody has a priority with a singular path. Although I have a singular system, you might say, that encompasses a lot. But all systems are somewhat singular.
I take issue with some systems, especially if they're led by charlatans or people who are ripping off millions of dollars. I'm not happy with that; I don't think it's necessary to get at that in looking for wisdom. Regardless, all things basically fill some sort of need. Although some of them we don't need.
Also about TAT—TAT is not the issue here tonight. The issue here tonight is basically truth. The truth about peace of mind, the truth about success, doing things, being mobile, and yet at the same time not trying to set the world on fire necessarily—until you know who's trying to set the world on fire.
Well, this goes back, as Gary said [in the introduction] twelve years ago, in 1972, I wrote a book. And the book was basically a tremendous attempt—I thought at the time; it was very difficult, being that I had never written very much before—a tremendous attempt to describe the absolute nature of man with relative terms.
And in the process of doing this, in the process of meditations that I had gone through for years before that, I had come up with certain psychological realizations, if you want to call them that. Because, basically, if you want to know the truth, you have to know yourself. The first thing you have to know is yourself.
Because the misconception of who is thinking about the truth can lead you on a tangent—which most people are on. And of course I find out—when people attend a lecture, most expect to come to get some goodies while still clinging to all the previous baggage they have accumulated down through the years. And this baggage could easily be erroneous.
We go about pleasing each other. I met a man in Pittsburgh who came to a lecture—we had a very poor showing, but this man was a gem. He came up to me [after the lecture] and he said, "I was doing the same thing you're doing. You're doing it a bit differently than I did. I had enthusiastic meetings. I never stayed up behind the podium. I went down and jumped around among the audience and kept them excited and made them all feel good and whooped it up, and they thought they were going places. I never said anything negative. I followed all these little things that you're supposed to do to keep everything positive, and reinforced people."
And he said, "Five years ago I had two hundred people here in this same room you're talking in. And I lost them all. And during your talk I found out why: You used the words 'the Law of the Ladder.' I tried to please everybody. I had a big turnout, but I had no substance. You don't seem to care about a big turnout, but you've got substance, and you're still alive after twelve years, your group is still alive."
But he was going back in. He was telling me he was going to start a restaurant near Irwin, PA, and they were going to paint the Zodiac and things on the walls to make people meditate while they're eating.
We get to the thing that everyone in this life, everyone sitting in this room, is dissatisfied and will be dissatisfied until the time they die—and by the time they get down to die, they'll be a tremendous lot more dissatisfied. And why is that? Because of a lack of clear thinking. And because of a gestaltic thing—states of mind, I call them.
We get into states of mind. And states of mind sometimes we borrow from our parents and borrow from our school teachers, educators. We borrow from the newspapers and what the movies tell us, tell the young people: "This is the pretzel you have to be, to be socially acceptable."
So everybody's trying to twist themselves into a pretzel, which they think will bring them popularity and success. Sometimes it isn't that. Sometimes they want to also inject all their private little wishful thinking systems and their desires into the picture as well. And invariably they get rebuffed.
We narrow this down to one word, this system of selfish thinking—the word ego. And the biggest part of the difficulty is the individual egos, which God knows where they start. Possibly when the person's a child the parents encourage them to have that ego. They flatter the child, tell it that it is superior to other people, to other children, that the family is superior. I don't think there's a family that hasn't got that idea across to their children, that they're exceptional children.
Well, this writing [The Albigen Papers], in the point of trying to get an image across—the picture across—of the reality that I discovered, I realized that I had to eliminate—brush aside—all of the erroneous thinking that a person can have. Meaning—we're approaching now a true psychology, a pure psychology. Because what happened to me was that my head was empty. It was empty of my egos. And in order to arrive at that, I had to drop every ego that I had, every idea of even my personal self, my survival, and I passed through death and became nothing. And I would have believed that I was nothing except for the fact that I remembered that I was aware of everything that was happening.
So in this view of psychology I wrote the book. And the book has a tremendous lot in it that you can use—it doesn't matter what you want to do with your life. I think everybody should function. The function is totally unimportant, but it is very important that you function. Because without motion we get inertia, and inertia leads to the undertaker rapidly.
So you have the choice of keeping some sort of program going, to keep the vehicle going, until you come across that which you think is very valuable to do. Then you'll have a vehicle and the locomotion necessary to do it—although a lot of it will be rooted in the ego of the importance of life.
You're not important in that respect. The thing that I found that is most important in life is that sometime in your life you find out who you are. I would like for you to think about that. Because I know a lot of you right now are thinking that it doesn't matter, that you can accept what's here. But what is here? In Pittsburgh one time I said to the people in the group, "You don't know who you are." And this guy put his hand up. He said, "I want to correct you. I know who I am—I'm the guy that's sitting in front of you."
But he didn't realize that possibly he wasn't sitting in front of me. The fellow that he thought was sitting in front of me, he may ten years later discover that that man was totally false, that there was an absolutely different personality, a different being, than who he thought he was. And that's the point I was trying to get across to him. Not that there wasn't a body sitting there. There was a body there, but his interpretation and definition of that body was something else.
In the process of writing this [book], I broke the mind down into the functions that it performs. Now I got into psychology books when I was seventeen years old, and that was fifty years ago. For fifty years I've never found anything of substance in the psychology books. Because they're looking at the mind with ink blots. They're looking at the mind with electroencephalographs, biofeedback, electronic equipment. Or patterns establishing normal curves. And chemical tinkering. "Give the guy a hypo, and see how he reacts—mark it down on a piece of paper, and then we'll get a science built out of this chemotherapy."
Some of this could very well be damaging to the vehicle that the man may need later on to pursue some real definition of himself. In fact—I'm not speaking idly, I know some people who had slight nervous breakdowns and were pumped full of Stelazine and got hooked on it for the rest of their life. And then they got more helpless, and more weird, until they became bed-patients, just from having a simple nervous breakdown—which a lot of people used to have in the old days, and they came out of it and functioned. But today when they get through with you, with the chemicals, you may not be able to do anything.
And this is because of a lack of knowledge of the mind. The behavioristic psychologists are correct in one respect, in that we are a body, first. We cannot deny that the body is there. The thing that you can deny, of course, is that we are more than just conditioned reflexes. We are conditioned reflexes until we're able to somehow reach a point in which we witness, and then influence, our conditioning. Or stop it. That is the point.
The fallacy in the whole thing of behaviorism is that we are robots. And I heartily agree with this—most people are robots. But the fallacy is that there's going to be a magical robot who is going to program all these other people. His philosophy has to be robotic. Where is it coming from?
It starts with the man who wanted to be funded by some federal agency—and that's all the wisdom there is in it. Because what they're saying I one-hundred-percent agree with: We are robots. You watch the animals in the barnyard, and then go in and watch the people in the house, and you'll see them going through the same systems. Except that we place more importance on what we're doing.
But I'm quite sure when the two goats are making love they have a tremendous lot of importance on that, too. We never bother to ask them, that's all. We think that they're just stupid animals, that they have no cognizance. But the motions are quite the same. The psychological attitudes of people and animals are very much the same. We work with compulsion; we battle right down like the old billy goat to the very hour of death pursuing the next hundred dollars, thousand dollars, million dollars on the stock market. We just don't give up, that's all. But it's the same thrust. Where one is eating leaves off the trees, we're putting nuts away for the winter. And that becomes a science—putting nuts away for the winter.
I found out that the human mind has basically very few attributes which we could call its own. We are plastic—we are born of plastic type protoplasm or neuroprotoplasm—but there is something programmed in it. And this is where the idea of the automaton comes in—meaning that it's manipulated by something else. And it's manipulated by whoever created the first blueprint.
This blueprint has in it two things which I consider very significant. One of them is curiosity, and the other is desire. These are not ours.
The reason a boy goes to college and becomes a philosopher, becomes a theologian, is not that he's born of God, or that Jesus inspired him. It's because he's curious. There's nothing wrong with being curious, and if he wants to get curious about God, he may become a theologian. But he won't become a theologian by going to a theological school. He has to respond to his native curiosity and in turn get milk from thorns. The thorns are his own stupidity and the fact that he refuses to accept the fact that he's programmed.
Curiosity is our leeway. You can turn that curiosity into wisdom if you wish.
And of course desire—we have desire because without the desire we wouldn't eat. We have to have the desire to get that first drink of milk or that first blade of grass and continue from that time until we die, eating the milk or the grass or whatever. And from it comes all sorts of egos—you know, having a better place to eat the food in, houses, restaurants, etc. Wealth, vehicles, and all that sort of thing—that's all from desire.
This, too, incidentally, can become sort of a catalyst—the alchemical formula for turning lead into gold. The desire can become a catalyst to create more energy, to channel more energy into the business of what curiosity takes us into.
So what does it mean? First of all, you channel the curiosity. You say, "I'm no longer curious about what the guy next door is doing, I'm curious about what's going on inside me. How did I get here?"
I often wonder how people can take it for granted that they're here. That's all they need to know—the fact that they're here. It doesn't bother them. Somebody says, "Oooohh, Jesus told me to tell you that you came from upstairs." And then I find this guy chasing my wife or stealing my money. And I don't know whether he's inspired by Jesus or not. I see some of them make millions of dollars, and I wonder if their real Jesus isn't the money.
So, anyhow, if we can channel these programs, then that's the only time that the robot has any meaning. He has no meaning—I don't care how great a scientist he is, how much wealth the man has acquired, or anything else—he may cast a long shadow, but that will not mean anything because he won't know who's casting the shadow.
The second thing is that we have basically nothing more than a sensory system. We start off with nothing but a sensory system. You watch your children: they're like monkeys—they basically repeat, imitate, in their process of learning. The whole thing for eight solid years is nothing more than rote, repeating what the teacher says, repeating what the parents say, imitating the parents' actions to get what they want, etc. Although they're very cute—these little people are very cute—they are doing nothing but the same things a monkey would do. And too many adults clear up to the time they're ninety years of age don't do anything but what a monkey would do.
But the thing is that somewhere along the line we discover that some of this energy, salvaged from our desire, if held in check can develop a thing called intuition. Now we take another step.
The intuition will lead us in discriminating the data that comes in from our curiosity. We will know which books to read, which ones are phony, which speakers are phony, which movements are hollow. And when we hear something or read something, a bell will ring in our head. That's basically what intuition is. And from that, then, you get closer and closer until the mind develops certain powers.
As we get closer, it gets tremendously abstract. Gary mentioned direct-mind science. I've given some demonstrations down at the farm a few different times on direct-mind functioning. At this stage, as far as a direct-mind ability, you become like the savant idiot: You go directly to what knowledge you wish, and it's yours.
And this is demonstrable. This is what we did at one chautauqua—demonstrating that you can get yourself into a frame of mind—it can be like the Oracle of Delphi, in which you'll see the future, or you will twist the space-time illusion into another illusion, and solid things will result. And the mind itself—you can feel it. Two minds can enter into these experiments. You can tell what the other person is thinking.
~ Continued in the February TAT Forum.
© 1984 Richard Rose. All Rights Reserved.
"It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." ~ Shakespeare
Paracelsus was known to be able to look at anything, an herb, plant or mineral, and divine its essence, and thus its purpose and use. A direct knowing, given by the Universal Intelligence, to one who had ears to hear. How might we tap into this direct insight of the universe? Most of us are trapped with only a very limited "knowing" which is basically the description of opinions derived from an arbitrary point of observation; a fixed pattern, based only on the recalled past. This "knowing" or ego/mind, is only capable of knowing itself, much less the essence of an herb, plant, or our Source. This ego is derived from the experience of a character in a story, who is basically unconscious; a scripted, unwitting idiot telling a tale, ultimately signifying nothing. To know directly, as Paracelsus, we would have to leave our story-drama and its trap, and become something wider, deeper. We are capable of hearing more than the mind's obsessive chattering about our personal character's recalled experiences. We may begin to wake up, and feel as Arthur Dent in The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: "Did I do anything wrong today, or has the world always been like this and I've been too wrapped up in myself to notice?"
Only something which has no vested interest in the drama can look outside of the character in its tale, and see the universal reality behind the dream of life. This is a very scary proposition; it threatens the very system of the drama, for we derive our identity from our character and story-line, each defining the other. The drama is seldom questioned, for this can only happen by stepping outside of it; a paradox. We refuse to listen to the voice of the silence within, because that would imply we don't know it all already. How can we learn to turn to this inner listening, to hear the voice of intuition, of insight?
Spending time alone is one way. We take a break from the distractions of our electronic age with its cell phones, computers, TV's, etc., plus the well-meaning but distracting voices of our friends and family. This can give us time to learn to appreciate silence, and to listen. Perhaps we'll reacquaint ourselves with a long lost companion deep within: our own heart. Time spent alone removes the relentless pressure imposed on us by society to conform to its standards, and allows our mind to clear and become quiet. Another pressure is the ego's defense against its main fear, the unknown. This also requires much time and energy, and blocks out anything that doesn't fit the story line. Nothing from the higher power within is allowed to get through. Another way is to spend time with those who value listening within, and have found their connection to the inner voice. These fellow-seekers can save us time and energy, having been down the long road to their inner self and thus able to help us along our path as well. The higher energy fields of these companions will give the inner self a taste of its own potential. Their inner calm and quiet are a stark contrast to the tale of sound and fury we have been dreaming so hard, without question.
The world of dreams is similar to this drama we call our life. When in a dream, we take it for real, and the experiences of the dream as telling us a true "knowing" about the dream-world. But when interpreted upon awakening, we see it as only a story of our character's mind, and this "knowing" as being simply a description of this mind that made the dream-world. The individual pattern or view-point is what's known. Nothing is objectively known about the so-called things, inhabitants, or possible reality of the dream.
To find the reality behind the dream, and possibly behind the dream character, we must find something higher. This universal intelligence is constantly speaking to us, always trying to get our attention. This voice of insight or intuition is drowned out by the voices of the characters in our drama. Look bravely at the plots of the dramas in life you've seen. They all end the same, and nothing is gained. Death conquers all, and the story with all its sound and fury, endlessly repeats. Question the character you've been lost in, and the drama of your own so-called life and its significance. Search fearlessly to find the nameless Something behind the play; the calm, clear reality beyond the dream, where nothing is done, nobody's there to do it, and all is perfect in silence.
Close your eyes
Look through the crowd
Dead trees don't sway in the breeze.
Though it doesn't matter,
Lying here I see
Once, this shell held life.
Today may be the fifth of January,
This valley overflows with Silence—
Andre Malraux once asked an old priest if he'd learned anything from sixty years of hearing confessions, and the padre said, "Yes, there's no such thing as an adult."
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