Just as light from the sun shines in through a window and allows people, objects, and events to reveal themselves to us, so man as a spiritual being is basically of a luminating character so that the truth about all things can disclose itself to his mental shining-forth.
She stood and began speaking without hesitation. "Since before what we now regard as the beginning of human history, there has always been an Enterprise which awakens a form of cognition which is beyond the current mode of acquiring and utilizing information. This Enterprise has taken many names: Platonism, Gnosticism, Wisdom, Alchemy, Hermeticism, Sufism. The reattainment of this special form of cognition has been called: Enlightenment, Nirvana, Samadhi, Satori, or Illumination. About three thousand years ago, this mode of consciousness became dormant in most humans through neglect and disregard. Most current religions and philosophies are the dead vestiges of earlier embodiments of the Enterprise.
"In each generation there are adepts of this Enterprise who make available the means of achieving this higher state of consciousness. This state allows a human to attain an eternally durable being."
Ben realized that Jamila was a remarkably advanced student.
Cartwright looked around the circle. "Does anyone have a question for Jami?"
A middle-aged man stood. "What part do books play in this tradition?"
Jamila stood again. "Certain books written by experts in this Enterprise contain a distinct but hidden technology which enables a discerning reader to gain an awareness of aspects of this higher form of cognition. The books actually act upon the reader whether she is aware of the effect or not. What a particular person gains from the book depends on her own merit and her ability to use the book effectively."
The same man continued. "Are there various kinds of books written by such experts?"
Ben suddenly realized that this circle of students was made up of people on various levels of understanding and capability. Age seemed to have no relationship to the level of attainment. Here, for example, was a young lady who was capable of providing edification for an older student of lower realization. Yet there appeared to be no sense of a pecking order, the more advanced lording it over the less advanced or beginners fawning over those of broader achievement.
"An expert in this Enterprise might write books with many different purposes. For example, she might write a book to provide training in this esoteric science for beginners, other books for more advanced learners. She might produce a book to fascinate those who seek only the emotional, mysterious, or bizarre--for the purpose of shunting those unsuitable persons off to other providers of spectacle and make-believe."
Jamila looked at Ben. "She might even write," she continued, "a book which explained that in this endeavor any person who considers herself to be superior to another is of the lowest rank; that what is important is that each person is working to achieve his or her own next level of understanding."
This struck Ben like lightening. She had unquestionably read his mind.
A young lady about Jamila's age stood up. "How are we able to tell if a person who claims to be an adept in this enterprise really is genuine?"
"At the beginning of your journey," Jamila replied, "there is one sure test of a supposed teacher's authenticity: If she accepts you as you are, a person full of self-importance and fantasies, then she is a fraud." The group laughed quietly.
"When you become more capable and reliable in your studies," Jamila continued, "you can recognize a bogus teacher because she pretends that you intrinsically know the most suitable methods for your advancement, that what you like is what you need."
"At the next level, you begin to understand that you need someone who will arrange or create circumstances through which you can learn. You gain the awareness that understanding comes only through experience, including prescribed situations which seem to have no immediate benefit to you."
"Thank you, Jami," Cartwright said. "If people in general actually knew what was best for them, then what Heather Perry of England did in 2000 would make sense. Ms. Perry was convinced she knew what would provide her an improved state of mind. She tried to find a British physician who would teach her to do what she was convinced was best for her. Finally, she found a doctor in Philadelphia who consented to teach her the procedure. After her training, Mrs. Perry proceeded, in front of a camera crew from ABC news, to drill a hole in her head."
Cartwright now turned to Green, who had been sitting quietly throughout the earlier part of the session. "You've asked for the opportunity to speak about possible involvement in our Endeavor."
Green sat forward in his chair and gazed at Cartwright. "I realize that my batting average so far is rather dismal." He chuckled. "But as I continue to study your material--your books and your Web site--I'm impressed with what you have to say." Green paused.
"It's taken me some time to work through what I experienced in my earlier forays into this atmosphere. I feel that you were providing me with the opportunity to see something about myself each time--and that I rejected those opportunities because of my heedlessness. So in light of my continued feeling that I would have a great deal to gain from studying with you more directly, I'm here this evening to explore that possibility."
It was clear to Ben that Green was still a long way from where he needed to be in order to have any chance of success in this activity.
"You're now retired, I understand?" Cartwright asked Green.
"Yes, just this year I finally gave up my law practice."
"Is studying with us important enough for you to move to this area?" Cartwright asked.
Green shook his head, thinking. "I hadn't though that would be necessary, but, yes, I suppose it is that important to me. As you know, my wife recently died and I'm by myself."
"As others have learned," Cartwright continued, "beginning study involves less contact with the teaching here at the center rather than more. You would have to apprentice yourself to a butcher in Healdsburg for whatever period of time would be required."
This knocked Green for a loop. He looked at Cartwright quizzically. "I'd have to give up my Security detail and become just a common citizen. I don't think I could do that . . ."
Cartwright interrupted him. "Yes, precisely, so that's the end to it." He turned to the others in the group as if to continue the session.
"Wait a minute!" Green exclaimed. "I'd like the opportunity to think this over . . ."
Again Cartwright interrupted him. "No, the conditions are not something you can consider at your pleasure. You either accept them unconditionally at once or let's part in a friendly way and forget the whole thing."
Green was shaken by this and lowered his head for a moment. "Okay, I'd like the opportunity to try, however bizarre this seems to me now."
Ben felt like telling him that he had no idea how incongruous it would feel when he actually entered the apprenticeship.
As Ben and Green were having lunch together the second day of Green's apprenticeship, Green confided to him, "I don't know if I'm going to be able to tolerate this kind of humiliation. I thought I might learn something if I subordinated myself to this Walt and lowered myself to do this kind of work. But it doesn't seem to be achieving anything but my feeling increasingly more resentful toward Cartwright for putting me in this state of disgrace! I've been a Governor of California for Christ's sake, a person esteemed by Presidents and foreign royalty."
Green was clearly beside himself and Ben didn't know how much more he'd be able to take. As they returned to the meat market and entered the cutting room, Green glared at Walt.
Suddenly Walt turned and faced Green squarely and said to him, without any animosity, "I'm not a royal figure so I guess I don't have to treat you with the bloated esteem you seem to need." Walt turned and continued with what he was doing.
This blew Green's mind. He walked out the back door of the butcher shop and stood thinking for a moment. As Ben came out to see what was happening, Green spoke up quickly. "Ben, I feel sorry for you, having to tolerate these nobodies and subjecting yourself to their degradations."
He walked to his car and drove away. It was the last Ben was to see of Green.
Teaching at the Junior College and working with Walt at the meat market consumed Ben's life now and he began to wonder if he would ever again attend a teaching session at Cartwright's center. He was astounded the next morning, as he was having breakfast at Sally's Cafe, to see Joan Kendall sitting in a booth. As soon as she saw him she waved him over.
"A glutton for punishment, I guess," Joan replied. "I was allowed to attend another session at the center where I asked if I might possibly be allowed to become a student of Cartwright's."
She looked at Ben with a sly grin. "Don't ask me why, I don't understand it myself. I was thoroughly convinced you'd gotten into the clutches of a cult master and that Cartwright was evil incarnate. But something kept eating at me."
"Better watch out for that feeling, it might lead you into very unexpected situations. Do you know what happened to Green?"
Joan shook her head and Ben explained the entire Green episode, ending with his sudden departure for not being treated like royalty. They laughed together.
"You're too late with your advice," Joan smiled. "I've already moved to Santa Rosa and am now the official apprentice of Ms. Wanda Railly, hair stylist extraordinaire." She burst into laughter.
"Ms. Railly a southern belle, is she?" Ben asked.
Joan looked at him with a puzzled look on her face. "How did you know?"
"Kate apprenticed with her; described her a bit to me. As a black woman, Kate evidently experienced a real challenge working under Ms. Whitebread."
"Kate didn't tell me about this when I saw her at the center," Joan said, "but then she wouldn't. Ms. Whitebread Railly, as you call her, is a caution even to a honkey like me. And I may pull a Green if I don't start feeling something other than resentment for giving up a great job, moving to podunk USA, and demeaning myself to a woman who snaps her gum."
They smiled at each other. "I don't want to apologize to you," Joan said, "until I can be sure that it will be the last time I have to." She looked at Ben. "That may be never, the way things are going."
"Why are you in Healdsburg?" Ben asked, wanting to change the subject.
"I'm working on some graphics for a book Cartwright's writing."
"Is that The Himalayan Book of Wisdom?" Ben asked.
"Yes, how'd you know?"
"I'm working on one of the chapters: 'The Himalayan Mysteries,'" Ben replied in a sinister tone. "I think I'm beginning to understand what the book's all about."
"That fits in with my theory," Ben admitted. "I think this is a book Cartwright's writing to shunt people off to other side-shows so they don't take up his time. Does that sound too far out?"
"No, actually, that feels right. What a strange thing to do, though." She looked seriously at Ben.
"I guess if he has as many people clamoring to see him as they say he does, then sidetracking some unsuitable people would be worthwhile. It might seem a bit calculating and insensitive to some, but it may be an efficient way to operate."
"You know," Joan admitted, "if I'd heard you say something like that a couple of months ago, my anti-religion prejudices would have clicked in. But the more I read Cartwright's material about what real teaching is, I think I'm getting a broader picture. I sometimes wonder how I survived my Baptist mind-rape experience, but now I see that most people have just as hard a time of working their way out of their past conditionings as I did."
"Boy," Ben exclaimed. "I hardly know your new mind-set. It's very becoming." He chuckled. "Now if you can just get a new hair-makeover from your mistress, you'll be a totally changed person."
They both roared.
Joan suddenly remembered something. "What happened with Cartwright and everybody being tossed into jail? Were you a part of that?"
"I didn't get pitched into the can, but I visited Cartwright in the Santa Rosa jail. He sent a message to Gorgon through me."
He told Joan the whole story. "You probably didn't notice anything different about Cartwright's compound, did you? Gorgon's men put everything back in tip-top shape."
"I didn't notice a thing. That's unbelievable about Gorgon. I heard that Angela had recovered. I even read that she and Frank were back together again, which I was happy about. But Gorgon making that kind of change, hard to believe."
"Well, I wouldn't call it a complete reversal. It may have been just a momentary lapse. I haven't heard any more about Gorgon, have you?" Ben asked.
"No, nothing at all. And that's strange, because he's a big mucky-muck in the Binkley administration." Joan looked at her watch. "Listen, I've got to go or Wanda the hair witch will pull mine out by the roots."
They laughed together and embraced warmly before they said goodbye.
Ben attempted to observe everything Walt did while Ben was in the shop. He noticed that some of Walt's behavior seemed to have the same kind of nuances as Cartwright's canoeing behavior. The traces in Walt's behavior were even more subtle: the way he joked with the customers when they came to buy meat, the methods he used to teach Ben and the others in the cutting room how to prepare the meat.
Ben was beside himself with fear. The two customers melted into the background, trying to stay out of harm's way.
Without turning his attention from what he was doing in the showcase, Walt said to the burglar, "Go ahead, the money's all there in the cash register."
The man didn't know what to make of him. He brandished the gun at Walt. "Get out of there and hand me the money or I'll drill you."
Walt burst into laughter as he poked his head out of the case. "'Drill you,' I haven't heard that for a long time. They also used to say, 'I'll fill you with lead,' 'I'll put holes in you,' or 'I'll plug you?' How about 'reach for the ceiling?' that was popular for a while." Walt took a closer look at the man. "Hey, a masked man. Where's your trusty Indian companion?" Walt put his head back into the case and continued arranging meat.
"Listen you asshole," the burglar shouted at him, "get out of there or you're life's not worth a plug nickel."
Again Walt began to laugh uproariously as he poked his head out. "How about, 'you're going to be pushin' up daisies?' or 'you're goin' to be wearing cement shoes?'" He paused and looked at the burglar who by this time was beside himself with anger.
"Listen," Walt said, "take the money from the register and get out of here." Walt poked his head and shoulders back into the case and continued working.
The burglar stepped behind the counter, opened the register and began taking all the bills and stuffing them in his pocket.
Walt pulled his head and shoulders out of the case again and said, "Hey, leave twenty dollars in there for the Girl Scouts, they're coming in at five for their money for the cookies I sold." He then poked his head back in the case and continued arranging the meat.
The burglar looked quizzically at Walt, then returned a twenty dollar bill from his pocket to the cash register. He then said to Walt in a more subdued tone. "You're lucky you're still alive, someone give me lip like that and I'd usually off them."
This was too much for Walt. He poked his upper body out of the case again and stood up roaring with laughter. "'Off them,' 'do them in,' 'send 'em to the grim reaper.' Listen, get out of here before I die laughing."
As the burglar was leaving, Walt spoke out to him, "Hey you should say thank you to someone who gives you something!"
This amazed the thief and he stopped and stared at Walt. He said in a sheepish voice, "Yeah, well, thank you." Then he bounded out the door.
Walt then walked around to where the customers were cringing, took them by the arm and led them into the back room. He told them to wait there. He returned to the show room, made sure the thief had left for good, then returned and told the customers it was all right to come out now. He apologized to them and gave them an extra cut of meat for their trouble.
While all this was going on, Ben had been standing in the back of the show room, shaking in his boots. He could hardly believe what Walt had done. He had thought at any moment that Walt would be shot. Walt had behaved in a manner which showed that he had no fear whatsoever. He genuinely found what the thief said to be comical. Evidently the threats on his life didn't mean anything to him.
The next morning, two Healdsburg police officers brought the thief into Walt's meat market. Ben had just arrived. The officers said to Walt, "did this man rob your store?"
"No," Walt said quickly. "I gave him some money and he thanked me." He then went back to work and ignored the police officers and the thief. They left in bewilderment, because the man had confessed to the robbery. Yet the officers knew Walt was a man of his word.
On Tuesday Walt asked Ben if he wanted to have lunch together. It surprised Ben because Walt had always gone home to eat with his wife. Walt explained that his wife was visiting her mother. They drove to a deli that did business with the meat market and they both ordered. Ben felt strange having lunch together, but Walt behaved as though nothing unusual was taking place. When they brought their sandwiches to the booth, Ben decided he'd take the opportunity to ask Walt some questions.
"Do you know how long my apprenticeship will be?"
Walt looked at him seriously. "It all depends on you. If you begin to discern what you're supposed to, it might end tomorrow. Maybe you won't get it and then we'd end it within a month or two."
"Get what?" Ben asked.
"Do you know what the great mystery of Illumination is?" he asked Ben.
"No, what?"
"That there is no mystery. What you're looking for is so subtle that if I explained it to you in words that made sense it would appear there was nothing to it. If I used some big twenty-dollar words that appeared to be saying something, they'd contain nothing useful." He paused.
"It's like your experience on the canoe trip. The whole first part of the trip you didn't see anything that was going on. In the second part of the trip you began to see about one one-hundredth of what there was to see. So far here at the shop you're beginning to see at bit."
"You got something from the experience with Green and you got quite a lot from the burglary event. And you'll get even more when the burglary episode comes to a conclusion."
This all seemed enigmatic to Ben but he tried to allow it to settle somewhere other than in his head. Walt's closing comment didn't seem to make any sense.
However, the next morning when he came into the shop he found the burglar talking to Walt. Walt motioned for Ben to come over to where they were standing.
"This is Brandon," he introduced Ben to the guy. "He just came in, says he wants to talk."
Ben gasped in amazement. "But he's the . . ."
"Yeah," Walt finished his sentence, "the comical burglar without a trusty Indian companion." Walt turned to the fellow. "So whatta you want to say?"
"Well," the guy hesitated, "you blew my mind what you did that day."
Walt burst out laughing. "'Blew your mind,' 'bowled me over,' 'knocked me out.'" He could hardly contain himself he was laughing so hard. Then he looked at the guy. "Listen, I apologize, it's just that whatever you say strikes me as comical. You're a funny guy."
The fellow didn't know how to take Walt. He wondered if Walt was making fun of him. "Well, I never encountered . . ."
Walt began to laugh quietly again and the guy suddenly felt amused himself by what he was saying. "I never met someone who didn't shake in their boots . . ." He burst out laughing at the same time Walt did. They were both overcome by the hilarity of 'shake in their boots.'
"Okay," the guy tried to start again, after he'd stopped laughing a bit. "So who the hell are you anyway?"
This made them both roar with laughter again. This time Ben joined in, because what was happening now seemed ludicrous to him. Walt slapped Ben on his back in merriment, tears in his eyes. "Can you believe this guy?"
"Okay," the fellow tried to get serious, "I want to know what's with you."
It was still too much for Walt and the guy and they erupted into guffaws again.
"Before you kill us with your comical patter," Walt said, still chuckling, "let me just say that I am this guy's disciple here and he's my spiritual teacher." Walt pointed to Ben.
The fellow didn't know whether to laugh or not.
"Okay," Walt said, "I was partly joking. We're just a couple of guys who work in this meat market trying to achieve enlightenment."
"Enlightenment?" the fellow asked. "You mean like religion and that kinda stuff?"
Walt was barely able to contain himself. He smiled. "Yeah, something like that."
"Why didn't you rat me out to the cops?" the fellow asked Walt.
It was all Walt could do to keep himself from bursting out in laughter at the phrase, 'rat me out'. "Did you want me to?" Walt asked him.
"No, no, I just wondered why you didn't, " the guy said quickly. "I got into a gambling debt I couldn't pay, and some guys were after me to break my legs if I didn't come up with the cash. That money I, ugh, stole from you saved my life."
"Anything else you want to say?" Walt asked the fellow, "we got to get to work gettin' enlightened." He smiled.
The guy looked perplexed. "Could I maybe work wid you guys?" he asked.
"Look," Walt said, "the pay's lousy here and we're havin' to struggle with this enlightenment stuff, I don't think you'd like it here."
"Somethin' about you I'd like to figure out," the fellow answered. "Would it be okay if I just work for a day or so and you can see how I work out?"
"Well," Walt replied, "the first thing you'd have to do is to work for nothing until you pay back the money you stole." He looked at the fellow.
"That's okay with me," he replied. "Just give me a chance."
"Okay, I'll give you a trial period. There's an apron over there," he pointed to the wall where the aprons were hanging . He started to walk away and then turned back to the fellow, "But Brandon, no more funny stuff." He laughed quietly. "Ben," Walt said, "would you show Brandon the ropes?" He walked into the front room and left Ben and the new guy wondering what was going on.
All of a sudden it hit Ben. Walt had told Ben that he'd get a lot more when the burglary episode came to a conclusion. Had Walt known that Brandon would return? Ben wondered to himself. Another realization came to him. If he knew that this last event would occur, does he foresee that certain things will happen? Ben began to reflect on Walt's behavior. Somewhere underneath the surface of his awareness, Ben now realized that he had actually observed Walt acting before an event would occur, like Walt meeting him at the door of the shop. Walt would start to the front show room before the jingle of the bell announced that someone had entered. Sometimes Walt would be ready with a meat order just before the delivery van would appear.
What else am I missing? Ben asked himself. And now this guy shows up, the comical burglar. What am I to make of that? The guy somehow senses, in a part of him he's unfamiliar with, that there's something special about Walt and wants to be around him. He doesn't know what it is. And neither do I.
Walt asked Ben the next morning if he'd like to have lunch together. As they ate, Walt told him, "you've been reassigned to work at the center, as Cartwright's writing assistant."
Ben didn't know what to make of this. "Do you know what my duties will be?" he asked Walt.
"No, Dr. Cartwright will tell you that himself."
"Well, can you give me any advice as I start this new assignment?"
"I don't know if you're aware that I was a university professor when I came to study with Cartwright?" Walt asked.
"No, that's surprising," Ben replied.
"Yes, I'd been teaching at the University of California, San Diego, in business. When I asked Dr. Cartwright if I could study with him, he told me I would have to learn to be of service since I had been so long in a basically useless profession. That was a little hard to take, but I'd studied Dr. Cartwright's material and found in it what I felt to be the primary focus for my life.
"I became an apprentice to Miguel, the prior owner of the meat shop I now run.
I worked for him for three years before I ever attended a session at Dr. Cartwright's center. At first I thought that "service" was the menial labor of being a butcher. Then I began to see, as you've begun to understand, that service is in doing anything assigned in a totally appropriate manner: appropriate to the situation. And when I began to practice that, my discernment started to awaken. Until," Walt said seriously, "you see before you a perfected, totally enlightened, fully illuminated . . . butcher." He laughed at this spoof of himself.
Ben thanked Walt for everything he had done for him. It was strange to leave the meat market, since it had become such a central part of his life. As he said goodbye to Brandon, Ben noticed that there was already a distinct difference in Brandon's demeanor. He was no longer the mindless burglar that had appeared at the back door of the meat shop several months before. It was clear he was learning something that was still intangible to him, something which he recognized was in Walt.
Ben reported to the center the next morning and Cartwright went over his duties with him. He was to complete the manuscript, text and images, for The Himalayan Book of Truth. And he was to assist Cartwright in answering certain correspondence, as well as doing research for a new book they would write entitled Initiation Into the Perennial Tradition.
As the weeks progressed with Ben in his new assignment, he continually looked for something unusual in Cartwright's behavior that would give him a clue as to what he was supposed to be picking up, beyond the menial tasks assigned to him. But he couldn't "see" anything; it all seemed prosaic.
Ben decided to speak to Walt about his new assignment, so one day he called and arranged to have lunch with him in Healdsburg. As soon as they were together in the deli, Ben asked Walt, "how can I learn to see what I'm supposed to in this new assignment? I'm not picking up anything unusual in what's going on."
Walt replied, taking a small piece of note paper from his pocket, "put a small piece of this paper into one of Dr. Cartwright's books each day and--this is very important--at the same time make sure that you serve him in every detail and do everything he says. Don't make any attempt to see meanings in his actions, or to get him into a conversation that would be revealing. Be content with whatever attention Cartwright gives you or doesn't give you. Don't be agitated if he gives you little or no attention for periods of time. Don't be jealous of others receiving attention from Dr. Cartwright. Value every word or gesture from Dr. Cartwright at its true value--as if you were the only recipient of a valuable hidden treasure. Okay?" Walt asked.
"Sure," Ben replied. "Where do I put the piece of paper each day?"
"In Dr. Cartwright's copy of The Green Rose that he keeps in his study. Begin at page one and put a piece of this paper each day in the next page of the book."
On the surface, this seemed absurd to Ben. How could a piece of this paper that Walt had given him have anything to do with his gaining the awareness he was seeking? Oh well, he thought to himself, I can at least give it a try.
In the next several weeks, Ben made sure to put a scrap of the paper Walt had given him in Dr. Cartwright's book in his study. He also remembered to follow Walt's instructions to carry out every detail of what Dr. Cartwright assigned him to do. He worked to overcome his nagging resentment at not being given special attention by Cartwright, when other students were allowed private conferences with him. And he made a special effort to see everything that happened in the center when he was there as a special opportunity to gain understanding.
One day as Ben was doing research on the Internet, background for Cartwright's chapter on the hidden life of Jesus, he suddenly became aware that he was "seeing" subtleties in the events in the center in a totally new light. Everything Cartwright did all at once made sense in a new way. Each person, each activity, each object at the center was part of an intricate design. Ben realized that it had not been the putting of pieces of paper in Cartwright's book that had made the difference, though that had distracted his mental agitation to a great degree. What had brought about the change had been his concentration on doing his work perfectly and observing every detail of what went on in the center, learning from each smallest element.
Ben could hardly wait to have lunch with Walt the next day. He jokingly expressed his deep thanks to him for the secret of the pieces of paper and they laughed heartily together. "Yes," Walt said, "you were so anxious to feel progress that you couldn't give heed to the real progress you were making. The paper provided a distraction. I accept your humble appreciation for my profound wisdom which I'm happy you've come to acknowledge after this long time." They laughed together.
For the first time since he had met Walt he felt somewhat an equal to him and their lunch was one of enthusiastic conversation about what each was doing and how much they were enjoying it. Every insight that Ben had achieved concerning the Center he knew Walt could understand without any need for explanation.
"Do you ever wish that you could be a university professor again, instead of a butcher?" Ben asked Walt.
"Heavens no," Walt exclaimed. "I get more mental and psychic stimulation in the meat market than I ever did in a classroom. And I'm already training my replacement."
"Brandon?" Ben asked.
"Yes, he's making excellent progress and Dr. Cartwright has spoken to me about my next assignment, which will be a challenge for me."
"I guess you can't speak about it just yet?" Ben asked.
"Right," Walt acceded, "not till the new assignment actually begins."
Ben had been in touch with Frank Wilson by phone and had learned that Angela was fully recovered physically and spending most of her time with Frank and his wife. As he was reading one of Cartwright's books one evening, Ben was pleased to get a call from Frank.
"Frank, how the heck are you," Ben exclaimed. "How's Angela?" He listened. "Good. So what's up? Oh, that would be great, I'd love to see you. How long you going to be in the Bay area? Hey, you've got to get up here so we can have a real talk. Lots to catch up on. Did you know Joan's living in Santa Rosa now? Yeah."
Ben sensed from Frank's reticence that he had some kind of hidden agenda.
"Listen, Ben," Frank said, "I heard from Angela that your guy Cartwright was responsible for her recovery. Sounds weird but that's what Gorgon told her. Of course, coming from Gorgon I wasn't sure. But I couldn't figure why he'd give Cartwright the credit if he could take the glory himself."
Ben was puzzled, aware that there something Frank wasn't saying.
"Anyway," Frank continued, "I'd like to meet Dr. Cartwright if I could. I'd like to see what kind of guy he is. And," he paused, "I'd like to see what he can tell me about Angela. She's physically recovered, but she's not doing much with her life now, just mostly stays around the house. Course Louise and I are happy to have her, but I thought maybe there's something else I could do for her, something maybe Cartwright could tell me."
So this was it. "I can inquire about your speaking with Dr. Cartwright. I can't promise anything, of course, but I'll talk to him about it. Okay?"
"Yeah, that's great, I appreciate it," Frank replied. "I'm flying out to San Fran tomorrow and I'd be available any of the next four days. Maybe I could drive up to Healdsburg and we could have dinner together no matter what."
"I'd like that," Ben said. "I'll call you as soon as I know anything. Hey, good to hear from you. And give my best to Angela, if that's the right thing to do."
They rang off and Ben thought about Frank's call. He must feel there's something wrong with Angela or he wouldn't be doing this, Ben reflected.
It didn't surprise Ben much that afternoon when Cartwright said to him, "You're welcome to attend the Thursday evening session if you want, and you could bring a guest." Cartwright smiled at him.
Ben called Frank that night, made plans for Frank to stay at a Healdsburg motel Wednesday evening, and arranged to meet for dinner at Ben's favorite restaurant in Santa Rosa.
On Thursday evening, Ben and Frank arrived at Cartwright's compound, in separate cars, about fifteen minutes early and Ben showed him around the grounds. As they entered the meeting room, Ben noticed that a large-screen television was set up at the front and the room was darkened. Precisely at 7 PM the TV came on. It was a recording of Cartwright's appearance on the Late Show with David Letterman. Letterman had introduced Cartwright as a writer, a winery owner, and an advocate of what Letterman called the Perennial Philosophy, and had begun by asking, "What exactly is the Perennial Philosophy?"
Cartwright had answered by saying it could best be explained through dramatic performance and that he had brought a small theater troop to provide an answer to Letterman's question.
Letterman had been prepared for
this, and he motioned to his right as the stage lights went down.
When they came back up the camera was focused on
Patient: I don't seem to be able to remember anything?
Psychiatrist: How long have you had this problem?
Patient: What problem?
The interview continued with Letterman asking Cartwright if he had, as rumor had it, actually been ex-Governor Green's guru?
"Not really," Cartwright replied. "Philip Green came to my home several times, but he seemed to want something I couldn't provide."
"Oh, how's that?" Letterman asked. "What is it you provide?"
"Well, the best way of explaining it is to describe one famous woman's visit: She came wanting argumentation and all she got was illumination." The drum roll and cymbal crash sounded again from the band.
The interview ended with Letterman asking several other inane questions, showing Dr. Cartwright's new book, The Himalayan Book of Truth, to the TV audience, and shaking hands with his guest.
The meeting room screen went blank and a loud voice on the public address system, announced: "And now, direct from his New York City appearance on the Late Show, the one, the only, D o c t o r F r a n k l i n C a r t w r i g h t! A drum roll and a cymbal crash was heard in the background.
The lights in the room came up and everyone observed that Cartwright was already seated in his usual chair. Ben and Frank saw that Joan was also attending the meeting. They both smiled at her and she returned their gesture of good feeling. The old triumvirate back together again, Ben thought to himself, if only for tonight.
Ben didn't know how Frank would react to this little TV performance. Oh well, he thought, if he can't understand that, he
won't have much chance understanding anything that goes on here.
"I'm pleased to be here," Frank said.
"Are there any questions you'd like to ask, Colonel Wilson?"
"Yes, I'd appreciate some insight into just how you were instrumental in Angela's, my sister's, recovery. And I'd like to thank you for whatever part you played in her healing."
"I played almost no part," Cartwright said immediately. "I was fortunate to be able to point out to Lyman Gorgon the psychological tie between him and Angela that was the main cause of her malady."
Frank had no clear idea what Cartwright was talking about. "Well, I'd also like to ask you if there's anything my wife and I can do now to help Angela to assist in her full physical and mental recuperation."
"Angela has to come to terms with what she will do with her life. She's been under the dominance of Gorgon for so long, that it's like learning to walk all over again. She will have to create her own values and goals. The only thing you and your wife can do is provide her a loving atmosphere until she can get back on her feet again--as you're now doing."
"It seems there ought to be more that we could do," Frank said earnestly.
"You must let Angela succeed or fail on her own as soon as she moves away from your environment. At that point all you can provide is your affection and support."
Frank looked at Cartwright and then at Ben. "Ben didn't know why I came here, really, but another question I'd like to ask is why in God's name did you restore full function to Gorgon's body? The monster deserved to be paralyzed the rest of his life, after what he did to Angela and hundreds of others!" Frank was enraged, pounding his fist in his palm.
"Lyman Gorgon is an aspect of a much larger reality, Colonel Wilson," Cartwright said.
At that, Frank jumped up from his seat. "I appreciate what you did for Angela, but trying to justify restoring Gorgon to health is a lot of metaphysical mumbo-jumbo. Lyman Gorgon is evil incarnate and If I could find a way, I'd kill him with my own hands." He sat down again.
Ben was astounded at the vehemence of Frank's loathing for Gorgon. He'd forgotten just how much he had hated Gorgon at one time. He realized that Frank still felt the same way. And, of course, what Gorgon had done to Angela was impossible for Frank to forgive, given his present state of mind.
Cartwright spoke in a very precise way. "Colonel Wilson, beyond what I've already said about Angela, there is only one more thing I can offer you--and I anticipate that you will think it is nothing but metaphysical mumbo-jumbo. Nonetheless, I would like to offer it to you for your careful consideration:
"If you try to understand what has happened to them, you might be able to get out from under this dread hatred that has you in its grip."
The session continued with Cartwright turning first to Joan then to Ben. "Colonel Wilson was a part of your earlier triumvirate bent on ridding the world of Lyman Gorgon. At one time each of you, Joan and Ben, felt exactly what Colonel Wilson just now expressed: unmitigated hatred for another human being. At the time you excused yourself by saying that you were fighting for the good of humankind." He paused.
"Earlier you would have said that the greatest evils facing humankind were homelessness, plutocratic globalism, a thoroughly corrupt political-economic system world wide. At this point," Cartwright looked at Ben, "what would you say are the greatest evils we face?"
Ben amazed himself when he responded immediately. "I would say that the greatest evils humankind now faces are:
"You succeeded in your response only in including the proviso that we don't seem to be addressing them" Cartwright said in a normal tone. "You've learned enough so far that you will leave open the possibility that the Enterprise might be addressing social evils in a way you're not aware of. Whether your including the proviso is merely an artful dodge or a genuine awareness is," he spoke in precise terms, "the razor's edge of your present work."
Joan's body visibly bolted backward as if Cartwright's words had struck her.
"I'm going to ask someone to explain this, someone who is a particular challenge to you." Cartwright looked at Billy.
Billy stood up. "Ben is correct in what he said, though he is still coming to realize the truth of it. The greatest challenges we face are ignorance of our own ignorance, belief in falsehoods, loss of understanding, loss of morality, egomania, and lack of desire for spiritual development."
Billy looked directly at Joan. "In one hundred years your emotional feelings about social justice will be of no importance to you at all. What will be important is what you have done with yourself, while you were here on earth and afterward." He took his seat again.
Joan had a scowl on her face.
"You find that hard to credit, don't you Ms. Kendall? Especially since it comes from Billy, a mere kid to you, whom you consider to be my 'pet,'" Cartwright said.
"Well, yes, what he says is difficult for me to believe--and yes, I feel that Billy's 'sermons' are a bit precious."
"You've been reading the books and the articles on the Web site, right, Ms. Kendall?" Cartwright asked.
"Yes."
"But you see," Cartwright continued, "Billy has really been reading them." He stood up and walked over to a bookshelf and took down a book. "This is a book by Rumi written in Persian." He handed the book to Billy. "Please read the first part."
Billy stood up, turned to the first page of the book, and read:
"Well, you've evidently been teaching him to read Persian," she replied.
Cartwright looked at Billy. "Billy, have I or anyone else been teaching you Persian?"
"No, sir," Billy replied.
The entire group was astonished at this reply, but no one more so than Joan.
Cartwright continued. "I haven't created this phenomenon merely to impress you, Ms. Kendall, but to show you what occurs if you study in the correct manner. You are at a dangerous crossroads in your life. You could turn toward a deeper reliance on a cynicism that you've grown accustomed to, where your own skepticism is master of your life. The other alternative is to plunge into unfamiliar territory that seems to you at times to be full of sophistry and deceit, but is really the only way you can learn to listen to a still, small voice that's just beginning to speak to you. This inner sense seems like nonsense to you most of the time, but it's your only hope."
"Do you have any other questions, Ms. Kendall?" Cartwright asked.
Joan was still put off by what had occurred. "Well, yes, now that you ask. I've been requesting that my friend, Phyllis Anderson, be allowed to attend a teaching session, she's even written you to ask if she could attend. And so far, neither she nor I have heard anything from you or your staff!" She was clearly annoyed.
"Ms. Kendall," Cartwright began, "if you were to speak to Ms. Spencer, the Institute secretary, she could inform you that we receive more than five hundred requests per week from persons wishing to attend our sessions. Some of those persons, it is clear from their letters, have effectively read the teaching material, and they are eventually included in a session here or an assignment where they are located. Others, which includes your friend, Phyllis, are seeking nothing more than emotional stimulus and attention. The questions she asks in her letters are answered in our material."
"But how do you know she's like that?" Joan asked quickly.
"Because of her letters, Ms. Kendall, by what her words reveal about her. You played on the intramural volleyball team at Bryn Mawr, did you not?"
"Yes."
"What if I were your coach and one day I tell the team members that I'm putting a new person on the team because you've asked me to. The other team members, who've been practicing for weeks to qualify, know that your friend has no skill at volleyball and is too lazy to practice. They would be justifiably irritated that I was putting an unqualified person on the team. In just the same way, if I were to allow everyone to attend a session merely because they wanted to attend, or a friend of theirs asked that they could attend, I would be doing a grave injustice to the people who take the time and effort to study the teaching material effectively. Does that make sense?"
"Yes," Joan agreed, still not happy with what she was hearing.
"Most everything I say, and most of what you read in our material, seems to you to be casuistry, because your mind is controlled by your finely-honed skepticism. You excuse yourself that this is justifiable because you've had to survive in a male-dominated world of dog-eat-dog competition. You're exasperated that you gave up your career in broadcasting to become the lowly apprentice of a woman who seems to be beneath you. You feel that what you were doing as a TV personality was helping to change the world for the better. And you feel that you could now be doing something significant if you weren't wasting your time in our foolish goings-on."
Cartwright turned to Jamila. "Please tell us the story of the altruistic bottle."
Jamila stood up. "There was a bottle which had a great desire to benefit humankind. 'How wonderful,' it said to itself, that I am able to contain liquids which will refresh and at times resuscitate people in dire distress.' The bottle came across a woman in a desert who was dying of thirst. Feeling that it was doing something marvelous, the bottle managed to move itself within reach of the dying woman. The woman, with the last scintilla of her strength, opened the bottle--and found it was empty."
W
hen the session reconvened, the meeting room seemed to Ben to possess a different ambience, even more charged than usual with an inexplicable dynamism. 
Cartwright began the second part of the session by turning toward the young lady named Jami. "I'd like you to give us a precis of the Perennial Tradition." 
What a strange experience it was for Ben to now be a co-apprentice with ex-Governor Green to Walt the butcher. But it was even more burdensome for Green who brought to this assignment a heavy baggage of self-importance and impudence.
"What are you doing here?" Ben asked. She was the last person he would ever have expected to see in Healdsburg. 
"Oh, tell me," Joan said, "I'm getting some bizarre pictures to be used in the book. They just seem grotesque to me, no enlightening quality to them at all. Look, here's one," she said, taking an image from her purse and showing it to Ben: a yogi sitting on a bed of nails.
Ben happened to be with Walt in the showroom waiting on customers one day when a strange-looking masked man burst in, waving a gun which seemed to Ben to have a six-inch diameter barrel. Walt was stooped over arranging meat in the display case while Ben was getting an order for a customer in the freezer unit. The thief shouted at Walt to give him all his money or he would kill him.
Following this incident, Ben began to observe Walt much more closely. But his actions seemed to Ben to be prosaic, nothing anomalous about them.
two performers in costume enacting a psychiatrist and his patient.
Psychiatrist: What seems to be the matter?
The band played a loud drum roll and a cymbal crash.
"We're pleased to have Colonel Frank Wilson with us this evening as Ben's guest," Cartwright began. "Welcome, Colonel Wilson." He nodded to Frank. "There are two people here tonight who until fairly recently were possessed by the same kind of loathing of Gorgon that is still consuming you.
With that, Cartwright arose, walked over to Frank and shook his hand. Frank realized that it was time for him to leave. He looked at Ben and smiled, then at Joan, then walked out of the room.
Cartwright shouted, "But those have nothing to do with all the horrors that men like Gorgon are wreaking on countless millions of suffering human beings!" He startled the entire group. He continued in a loud voice. "What kind of responsible human being are you, Ms. Kendall," he looked at Joan, "if you aren't trying to mitigate those immense social evils?" 
Joan had no idea how to respond. She flustered, "Well, yes, that's right, we ought to do something about these social injustices--and I wonder why in the world you and your associates don't seem to be addressing them."
"You can stop there," Cartwright said to Billy. He looked at Joan. "Now, Ms. Kendall, how do you suppose he did that?" "Listen to the reed-flute, how it complains,
Lamenting its banishment from its home:-
'Ever since they tore me from my reedbed,
My plaintive notes have moved men and women to tears,
Anyone apart from someone he loves
understands what I say,
Anyone pulled from a source
longs to go back."
