View source for Anchor Points, Knowingness of Location (2ACC 531124)

'''Series:''' 2nd Advanced Clinical Course (2ACC)

'''Date:''' 24 November 1953

'''Speaker:''' L. Ron Hubbard

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Okay, This is November the 24th, first morning lecture. And this morning we are going to go on into V, VI and VII on SOP 8-C.

Now, there's going to be a little more about this than what I'm giving you this morning, but I'm going to give you a very swift rundown of it.

You must realize that the whole problem in Step I is a problem of location. Location consists of being able to possess or not care who possesses anchor points. Location depends upon anchor points because it depends upon space.

Now, let's take the definition of space: Space is a viewpoint of dimension. This gives us a very workable basis for a great many techniques. But our viewpoint of dimension, as a definition, permits us for the first time to crack this problem, because we see at once that we have location in terms of barriers or limitations. "I know who I am because I can't drive a car." You get the idea? "I know who I am because I can't. I know who I am because I am not."

Now, there's a silly technique that you could just run on this; this is not a technique at all—a usable technique as you would say—but it's just a foolish one. And—all right, you ask somebody, "Are you Joe? Are you Bill? Are you Pete? Are you Henry? Are you a streetcar conductor? Are you a politician? Are you a dogcatcher?" And what do you know? If you've got that right there, you get a little—slightly heightening sense of identity.

Well, that's the idea band of location. See, "I am not so-and-so, therefore it follows that I must be somebody else." Well, this is the problem of "who." People have gone around all the time saying, "I am (identity)," whatever the identity was; and they say, "I am this identity." And somebody else says, "Well, gee, I'm at least not that identity."

This is why we love criminals, and why we nurse, as a civilization, criminals to our bosom and take care of them and put them in cages and give them all the headlines and so forth—just to give somebody something which he is not. You see? It makes people happy. They read the paper and they find out about the "Smorgasbord kid-slapping case" or something, and they say, "Well, my name is not Smorgasbord." Imagine the unhappiness, however, of Mr. Smorgasbord of Keokuk who reads that story.

Now, one of the unhappy things that occurs to a person is to find somebody else with his name. This is kind of upsetting, you see, because he can't say, "I am not George." Aaahh! So the best thing he can do is to substitute some sort of a barrier between George and himself, and hate George or something, you see. And this convinces him that he's not George.

This is an interesting game because, you see, you don't have a name. There is no such thing as a "who." You're you, you see; you're not a name or a label or something of the sort. Well, a person, when he starts struggling against location, starts losing his sense of identity; but he's already, remember, struggling against location. So if you want to solve this problem of identity, you solve the problem of location, which is a higher level than identity. Identity is almost lost in the swamp. There's hardly anything lower than "My name is George," you see? "My name is Bill." "I am somebody because I am Oscar Schnitzowitz the Eighth," see? No, he isn't; he isn't anybody because he's—that's a symbol. And if somebody wants to push around a symbol and be a symbol for years, why, this is fine. But he's not in too good a shape as a result.

An awful lot of people that you run into are having so much trouble with this that they're trying to make something out of their own name, but desperately. So as one of the lower steps in 8 -C, we make the person work with his name. I could tell you some very funny ones on this. A person has lost himself locationally, and then finds himself as a name.

One of the main troubles with a body is that it's mobile; it doesn't grow like a tree, and therefore it can't be located against three or four or five other trees. You see, it's mobile and it drifts around, so a person gets upset about that, so he becomes this symbol, because symbols are things which drift around, too.

So, with our first step, we have the step of location. We also have this problem of identity. And if anybody, however, is going to exteriorize on Step I, he's not having too much trouble with identity; not having too much trouble. You have to get down to IV and V before you really get into trouble with identity.

Well, let's take up some more of I—location. This has to do, then, with anchor points. And so we have, as part of I, a drill which I gave you earlier in this series, which has to do with coloring and changing, altering, anchor points. Because one cannot have location unless one has anchor points. And if everybody doesn't own the anchor points—if they all belong to the state, if they all belong to the Slipslap Estate, if they all belong to General Motorcycles or something; you see, if all these belong to some huge corporation or if they all belong to the Ruff Corporation of America, or something like that—these things are all uniformly somebody else's anchor points. And so we don't get a location.

Now, in essence, what is wrong with a case that is down below the level of I, doesn't exteriorize easily—well, what's wrong with this case? Several things, but they're all a gradient scale of anchor points. Whose anchor points, see, is the first problem that enters in there. Whose? Sense of location. Fascinating. See, they're not being any identity. The problem of who owns the anchor points becomes a very foolish one and a very silly one.

See, in Step III, if you do one of the space tricks, and you simply have one of these tricks of putting somebody—have him put up space using deeds of title for anchor points. That's very silly, you see. "It's my house." Why is it your house? Well, it's your house because somebody gave you a deed of title. Well, this is what we know as "license to survive," you see; it's some—there's a deed of title.

Now, it isn't that these deeds of title and so forth are worthless, this is not the point. The point is that when you depend upon the deed of title to tell you where you are, it becomes very silly. Now, just try to integrate that one with something more than Homo sapiens logic and it just doesn't integrate. You depend upon a deed of title to tell you where you are; and yet that is exactly what a deed of title is trying to do.

"I have a deed of title and therefore I am someplace." Oh, no. No, because you have a deed of title to a house up here a few blocks away, would be no reason why you were in that house, but it would be a location or point from which you could operate. And as long as you had a feeling like you knew where the house was, and the house was yours, therefore, you had the right to orient yourself with regard to it. But listen to this: if you couldn't be up high enough, or know hard enough, the space and the intervening space and the relative direction to that one anchor point at all times, you'd still be lost, no matter how many deeds of title you had.

And so it is. A fellow who has—gets the idea, "Well, let's see, deed of title locates me, so therefore if I own 8 billion, 645 thousand deeds of title or something, why, I'm all set." And well, that's fine. But of course, the more he gets of these, and the more mobile they are, and the more he depends on them, the less he knows who he is. Because, you see, in the first place he isn't anybody. When I mentioned that number of titles, I was going to point out what a piece of money is. It is a potential title to some food, to a ride, a taxicab—they haven't figured out yet how to get dollar bills into slot machines, but they'll have to shortly, at the rate of inflation. And here we have a mobile deed of title, assigned to a mobile person, in an effort to give him an identity, which is to say a location. Oh!

And into this, we immediately get all the goofy problems of economics, taxation, political control—these problems all come under that heading and fall immediately below that frailty. Because you—if you were to take—you notice, by the way, restaurant owners very often do this. Restaurant owners are consuming so much in a restaurant, they sort of form a vacuum there, you know, and they kind of stick against it. And they have a rough time with the flow of commodity, because there's tremendous commodity flow, you see. And they'll decide that they'll make something immobile, so they will take the first dollar the store earned, or something like that, and they'll paste it up on the wall. They do this in bars and restaurants because, you see, there's so much flow; and you'll see that one thing.

Well, actually, the proprietor—you'd be surprised, but the proprietor of the shop always knows where that thing is, you see? All else may fail, but there's that dollar bill. And it's an amusing thing to speak to them about that dollar bill and see the sort of comfortable look come on their faces, see? There it is, that's one dollar they've got nailed down!

Well, now you get people with an idea that they aren't anything (see, they've gone down through the band), but now they're going to try to be something which somebody else gave them. Now, this would be honors and titles, and that's real amusing, too. And nobody seems to find this funny in this society at this time, which is something that continues to amaze me—that somebody would know where he was because he was a general. You see, that's utterly silly. In the first place, he might as well just pass in his chips as far as his health and personal comfort's concerned, because he has been presented with an anchor point which he doesn't own and which can be taken away from him unless he behaves in a certain way. It is a mobile anchor point and it exists only as a symbol—they give him a piece of paper which he can put in the safe or something of the sort, saying he is a general, and now he is supposed to be this anchor point. Oh, no. Anytime, anytime anybody tries to be an anchor point, he's in trouble—believe me, he's in trouble.

Space is a viewpoint of dimension. What do you think happens to somebody who is trying to be a piece of energy? Who is trying to be an anchor point, much less be a symbol? Well, what do you think happens to this person? Well, it's just exactly what you see in case after case as they go by: no space, of course! See how ridiculous this is? The fellow runs fresh out of space the moment he says—and you can find, by the way, in a person's lifetime when he suddenly decided to be something. He decided to be a piece of energy; God help him when he decided to be a symbol. You know, "George"—has to be a symbol. Or a general—that's about the lousiest symbol anybody could be. And I don't mean "lousy" there in a more grammatical sense, because generals very often have enough orderlies to take the cooties out of their clothes; they have DDT in these more modern wars. But they do manage to get crawled over considerably.

Now, where we have a title which is a big, big title; I mean, where we have an important thing, or the person by reason of this has a certain command and influence—just by reason of this thing having been presented to him from some other determinism—we've got real trouble with a case. We've got trouble—right now.

Well, what's the matter with this fellow? He isn't located. Why isn't he located? He isn't located because the main thing he is using as an anchor point is a symbol, so he's on an inversion of energy. Right away he's on an inversion of energy, because you'd have to take this symbol and convert it to energy, and then convert the energy back into a real anchor point, which he could then be far enough away from to view, in order to put him in a position where he would have space and mobility, the truth of the matter is. But this symbol, which isn't anything, which drifts everyplace, which can be taken away from him—of course, if that's his location, he's noplace. And so you will find him; so you'll find him. You'll find him unable to get anchor points, to put up anchor points and so on.

Now, it works the same way with somebody who is having trouble with money. All due respect, there are two classes of individuals that have to do with money. One is the entrepreneur—he is the person who makes it as he needs it and spends it. And the other one is the case that—you couldn't get me to process one of these for all of the spaceships on Venus, you just couldn't, because—that's the capitalist. Because his whole goal is, "If I can hoard up enough anchor points, I then can put out enough batches of anchor points so that they will multiply new anchor points."

Now, get what this boy is doing: He's taken a mobile commodity—dollar bills, credits, so forth—and he has made this an anchor point. Now he's going to put out these masses of anchor points (which didn't belong to him in the first place, you see) and then they're going to multiply, and that's the way he's going to get energy. That's how he's going to get new anchor points. Not by work, not by effort, not by thinking up ideas, but just by being kind of shifty and slippy about the whole thing.

Well now, your entrepreneur is always visible in the society because he lives rather well. He does things that are—a little color and flash. Your capitalist is practically invisible in a society—the most shoddy characters you ever wanted to run into. Their conversation is entirely engrossed with these—anchor point called a dollar.

The funny part of it is that they have almost uniformly thrown this thing called aesthetics out the window. And they make the world's roughest case; because they're trying to hold mobile anchor points close to them, and that's their location. Where? What's their location? You just get the idea of the wsshhh! This stuff, they've got eight billion of them tomorrow, and then they loan twenty kropotniks—I think a kropotnik—an interesting coin: when you have seventy thousand of them, you owe somebody fifty cents. (audience laughter)

But anyway, there you see what happens when it's somebody else's anchor point, and then they have made this anchor point their anchor point. They're trying to be this anchor point, they're trying to be a millionaire or something of the sort—well, you've got real trouble right away with the case. And boy, no kidding, those things process—you just might as well take a sledgehammer to them. These people are practically solid ridges. I know, I've practiced on a few of them, and it's just gorgeous.

Well, it's nothing to do with the fact except that anchor points are now so unreliable and so scarce that anything resembling energy has to be held very close to them. And the funny part of it is, the only real anchor point any person or any being will ever have, is something he knows he created and put there himself. Now, there's the very best anchor point. And it doesn't matter whether it's kind of small or lopsided or anything of the sort—if he put it there himself, you see, why, he can be happy about it.

Even though some—well now, some people will go into this level: they'll do terrible things, they'll commit crimes, just so they know they did something somewhere. Little kids who have been disenfranchised by parents and so forth will go around and break windows in old houses and things like that, and they go drifting by—he broke that window. See, he thinks in terms of destruction. He has actually created an effect, not created some energy or space or something of the sort, so he's … And there is your juvenile delinquent. He's dashing all around madly trying to give himself some kind of a location. Because you go back into his home and you'll find out it's usually a broken home—he doesn't even have his home as an anchor point.

Now, you see, this is all under the head of location. What a simple problem it is. Somebody says—thinks that this might look simple to me, but it isn't quite that simple. Oh no, it's that simple. Let's take George Doakes as a preclear, and we put George Doakes down in the middle of eight anchor points—he can make these anchor points and throw them up. Have him take a look at all eight of them and find out he isn't in any one of them, and have him change them around to a point where they know they're his, and a feeling of happiness and relief and relaxation comes over him. I don't care who he is—Bill, Pete, George Doakes—it doesn't matter. He's got some space, and he isn't being anything and he is being located by what he has created.

Well now, it's not necessary to create an anchor point in that way. When somebody is going through the whole routine of creating all the anchor points he sees, day after day, he just goes through this, and he's going through this under the delusion that all these belong to somebody else, he's in a state of delusion. So what is the delusion? The delusion is that anchor points are otherwise and elsewhere owned, and are therefore very scarce. You cure that delusion, you can cure any case of anything.

Now, therefore, part of I is this drill which changes around the emotional status and the fixed characteristics of MEST objects up to a point—that is, by changing their color, by changing their emotional status, by putting some thinkingness into them and so forth—up to a point where a fellow can have some anchor points. So that's all under location, isn't it? All right.

Now, we go on down the line and we just find this same problem repeating and repeating and repeating.

But there is something overhanging all of these steps which you must know about, and that, of course, is knowingness. And so, when we get down to Step III and we start to knock barriers to pieces—in Step I we just color them and so forth, but in Step III we're just looking right straight through them. We're just going to unmock barriers and unmock barriers until he can put some barriers there and know he's putting them there. And when he knows that, he's—really knows something, believe me.

But remember, it comes down to the basis of knowing. It is not necessary to perceive to know; it is not necessary to perceive to know. It is not necessary to be located by anchor points; one need only know that he is located, and he is located. You see, there's something senior to all of the mechanical operations; and this senior thing is called certainty. Well, people put up a great many barriers against their own certainty. A certainty of location without having a location and nothing with which to locate one, is of course the most senior type of knowingness you could have with regard to location.

Now, let's take this Step III, and as we look out in the six directions and come back each time and know, we're just reversing the process of why the fellow started looking—very simple. All right.

And we go down to Step IV and we then sort out, by handling the mechanisms, the machinery he uses to create, survive and destroy that following list. And you do that, you run that cycle of action, you see, I mean, that is a cycle—not a cycle of action in that case, it's a cycle of state. There's the created things, there's the persisting things and there's the destroyed things. So, on that step we simply go in at the beginning and we "waste mechanisms which," and we waste them in a bracket. He wastes one for himself or wastes a dozen for himself—it doesn't matter whether you use one or thousands. He wastes a machine which creates admiration or he wastes something which creates admiration.

And be a little bit wary of the use of this word "machine" too much—actually, it's proper, but it means many things to many people. A machine is merely a definition of something which makes or does. All right. It means "maker."

We waste a mechanism which creates admiration, or a being that creates admiration, for himself. Now we have him have somebody else up there wasting one for that person's self. And then we have somebody wasting one for somebody else—a machine that creates admiration. Now we come back on this, and we have somebody else waste one that's his, and then we have him waste one that's somebody else's—a machine that creates admiration.

Now remember, there are two more steps here. There are a lot more steps. And this is one of these superpatterned packages that just goes all ways from the middle, and it grabs on to all these brands of knowingness, you see. A fellow has gone down, in the point of anchor points, so far that he thinks he has data, see, to know. And he is—we're in—already into that, where a fellow has put up barriers against his knowingness directly, direct barriers against knowingness. And that's that list—that Step IV list of SOP 8.

Now, the next step on the bracket, of course, is to have him waste—several ways you can work this. This is one of the best ways to do it: Have him waste a machine that causes admiration to persist; and then somebody else waste a machine that causes admiration to persist; and then somebody waste somebody else's machine that causes admiration to persist; then somebody waste his machine that causes admiration to persist; and him waste somebody else's that causes admiration to persist.

Now, we haven't really beaten this thing to pieces yet. Now we're really going to beat it to pieces: Have him waste a being or machine that destroys admiration; somebody else waste a machine which destroys admiration; somebody else waste somebody else's machine that destroys admiration; and somebody waste his machine that destroys admiration; and him waste somebody else's that destroys admiration.

Now, it would just seem to you as an auditor that this is completely interminable as a process, but it does some of the strangest things to the case—boom, wham! We've added now the DEI cycle to Expanded GITA and we're resolving scarcity on all parts of the band. So let's go into the next stage of it, which is to have him save. Get him saving a, or many items which create admiration; somebody else saving many; and somebody else saving somebody else's and so forth. Creates admiration. Now, somebody saving an item for him which creates admiration and him saving one for somebody else which creates admiration.

Now him—this is just one of those things. We have him, now, saving an item which makes admiration persist; and somebody else saving an item which makes admiration persist (you get how this works?); and somebody else saving somebody else's item which makes admiration persist; and somebody saving something of his which makes admiration persist; and him—something which makes admiration persist for somebody else—saving it. All right.

Now we get him saving an item which destroys admiration; and somebody else saving an item which destroys admiration; and somebody else saving somebody else's item which destroys admiration; and somebody saving an item for him which destroys admiration; and him saving one for somebody else which destroys admiration.

Okay, now we get him accepting something which creates admiration; we get somebody else accepting something which creates admiration; and somebody accepting something from somebody else which creates admiration; and him accepting from some specific source something that creates admiration; somebody else specifically accepting from him something which creates admiration. Next stage.

It—this is—honest to Pete, this beats to pieces all possible combination of admiration. It just beats it to pieces. Many times you'll have to go over one of these brackets a couple of times. You'll be surprised how people will stumble around on these things, and it—so on. All right.

We get, then, him accepting something that persists, then the remaining bracket. And we get him accepting something which destroys admiration, and remaining bracket. And then we get him desiring something which creates admiration, and the remaining bracket. And then him desiring something which makes admiration persist, remaining bracket. And then him desiring something which destroys admiration, and the remaining bracket.

And then we get him—this is the complete, all-the-way-through, super-bracket on Step IV. Fortunately, you only have to use it on about five items. The next one up, of course, is him being curious about something which would create admiration, and the remaining bracket. And then him being curious about something which made admiration persist, and the remaining bracket. And then him being, again, curious about something which destroyed admiration, and the remaining bracket on it. And that would be it, and the whole thing would consist of the entire Step IV.

And you would hit with this—if you just went at it in that laborious fashion, one end to the other—you would hit with it every possible upset that a person had ever been through that was hanging major. And you start through that, and all of a sudden your preclear is going to start spilling tears or being very upset or being very nervous, one way or the other—because you're tearing down his (quote) "thought barriers" (unquote). The barriers to knowingness is what this consists of, and that handles these. You've got to get his knowingness up a little bit before you can do anything else with him, because he's stumbling around all the time thinking there's "something to know" about these things.

Well, there is! There's something terrific to know about work, and there's something terrific to know about pain. Pain is so valuable that hardly anybody can have it anymore. Isn't that interesting? But you know that you run this on the fellow, and he concludes that all by himself—he just concludes it. "Why, pain's very, very valuable," he'll say. And then he gets up along the line, "Yeah," he'll say, "I can have pain." He's real happy now; he can have pain—fine. Mama slapping him for playing with broken glass and everybody kicking him around and rushing him to hospitals just because he broke his leg, or—you know, gave himself a little pain.

The thetan—you—identify yourself with being a body. There's a point in a person's lifetime that you can find on any E-Meter, practically on any preclear, where the person suddenly made up his mind to be the body—probably in his teens or late childhood. You know, he just suddenly made up his mind to go whole hog on the thing and just be that body and really make a good deal out of it and so forth. Well, boy, he decided not to be a viewpoint; he decided to be an anchor point. Rrrr.

You can get this as a little test—you can just get the guy with the idea of space and then energy, and space and energy, and space and energy, and that incident shows up. See, because energy is not space; and if a fellow is fresh out of space, he's really out of space. All right.

So we've got the barriers to knowingness in Step IV. And if you wanted to take that whole list and run it on that whole bracket—and actually, probably—probably we ought to take this and just write it out into one terrifically long, long column, step by step, and let somebody run it on somebody sometime. Because if you ran it on somebody exteriorized, it would knock apart any barrier he has ever imposed to his detriment against his knowingness.

Well, you got to get it on work, because work's valuable. You'll find out the reason he can't have work is because he can't have work. Another one that he has to have run on him in this society, of course, is pain, because pain is very scarce. And another one is money. And although it sometimes hits a preclear too low to be run, the whole idea of viewpoints is run on out with the thing.

Now, there are other ways of solving the other things: love and hate and so forth, those are very important ones. And he finds out—and this one, please don't miss this one: healthy bodies. The fellow will find that he has—a medium state of sickness is the only acceptable, agreeable thing he can have. And you're trying to make somebody feel good, and he can't have a healthy body. And there's the barrier right across the track of your auditing. He's afraid that if he runs what you run there, or something of the sort, he'll actually get well, and then he's not acceptable anymore. Terrific computations on this.

And if you were to take each one of those, with that full bracket: waste, save, accept, desire, be curious about, each one, see—a full bracket for creation of an item, a full bracket for making it persist, and a full bracket to destroy it—you have relieved the major barriers to knowingness, which are very important to a person at the level at which you're processing.

There's an item missing on the 16-G list, which is "nothing." You can see how this item would be missing. It goes through the typewriter and the transcriber and it goes onto the first copy and the stenographer looks at it and says, "Oh, well. Okay." And then it goes through the typographer's hands and—I mean, the linotype operator's hands again; well, he misses it again. I put it back in there about three times. And I think the first time I put it through, I omitted it. Well, it's a very easy thing to omit.

And you'll find that with any of those items, including this item "nothing" and so on, with any of those items, you will get some sort of a gain or a knowingness on the part of a case which he didn't have before. And, of course, what you're trying to do is give him some certainty. Well, believe me—he becomes certain that such and so has been happening in his life, he gets real happy about it.

Now, there's nothing like running a little wrinkle of this. This fellow is puzzled and he keeps complaining about his parents. And all he can think about—he complains about his parents, see, his complaints about his parents, a medium state of acceptability of illness, and so forth. What is his acceptance of his parents? See, what's their acceptance to each other? It'll work out that. And all of a sudden he'll recognize, "I needn't be complaining about my parents all the time, because what they wanted obviously was a bad little boy. And what they wanted was a sick little boy. What they wanted was a stupid little boy." Or "What they wanted was a little girl that whined. Or what they wanted was a little girl that couldn't work," or something. And they all of a sudden say, "Well, that's—I don't have to be that person! To hell with it!"

And their whole character and outlook on existence will shift. They're trying to be accepted by their parents. Why? Because their life started by stealing an anchor point—one baby. They stole the anchor point, now they're trying to make the anchor point theirs, and they can only make it theirs by taking it away from their parents. And they get into the most dreadful snarl on this, because they're trying to be an identity which they know doesn't belong to them. You've got to solve the ownership of this body. There are many ways to solve it, some of them very simple. All right.

Now, let's move right on out of IV and go into V. And everybody's ears go up, because we've been validating blackness like mad as a barrier. V is the occluded case. There are many, many, many ways to handle occlusion; I mean, they're just endless. If you simply have somebody ridiculing an occluded case—you just have people out there, standing out there ridiculing them, and have mobs of Papa and mobs of Mama and mobs of women and mobs of men in the case of a girl; ridicule, ridicule—why, you'll all of a sudden find out that they're just trying to cover it all up and wipe it all out and get through somehow or another. And they'll talk a lot about betrayal, but what they're afraid of is ridicule, which is to have the anchor points out.

So the anatomy of the case, as far as knowingness and anchor points is, is they've got their anchor points in, which makes them out of space. And however desirable it may seem to them at first glance to have all their anchor points in, it makes them difficult to process—but not very.

Now, what is the story from V down—V, VI and VII—just like that. Well, what is this story? What common denominator is there?

The V is trying to hold his anchor points in and collect enough already-made energy in order to have, at least in himself, an anchor point, whether he's out of himself or not. He's still trying to collect energy and call it his—he isn't making any—and it tells you his creativeness is shot. But what's mainly shot is his destructiveness; his destructiveness.

And he's got the handiest little jim-dandy machine which you ever saw. It unmocks with blackness—and this wouldn't be so bad, you know, but it unmocks with blackness before the thing is created. You got that handy little one? He reversed the cycle of action, in other words. It's running D … It—a cycle of action running down scale DEI in that sequence—they're running I-E-D. They're on an inversion.

And if you want to really give one a bad time, this is the process for it: just have them get the idea of something being destroyed before it can be made, and have them do this with black mock-ups. Destroy it before it can be made, and destroy it before it can be made; and more automaticities show up, and you handle these little automaticities, and this gives them twinges and so forth. And you go back and you'll find out they've had certain effects in their life, which occurred suddenly. You handle these effects and you'll find out that they normally have a very strong personal problem of one kind or another, such as another person. And you'll find their emotional shut-off occurred, for instance, when their husband left them, or something on this order. It's—again, here is the case on which we bust out the E-Meter.

Outside of your routine drills which can be done in a group, processing the case without an E-Meter is—for you as an auditor, outside of routine drills—is almost a waste of time. And this is where we do an assessment; down to there you don't need to. Because this case is double-terminaling like mad. He believes so thoroughly in energy, that anytime he puts out a mock-up, he gets discharges between the mock-up and himself.

Now, when he starts putting emotion in the walls and that sort of thing, it discharges so fast and furiously against himself, it's remarkable. Now what you're dealing there with is an inversion, a marked inversion, see? It's just backwards. He wants to put out white, he gets black. He's going to put a beam going straight ahead, and he gets a beam going straight in. He's got this stuff upside down. He's sitting, actually, in the middle of a black ridge. You can just take two black ridges and put them side by side and you'll get more action than you've seen in a long time.

But the case has a tendency to remain—what you do with a case is give them an assessment. This guy is occluded. All right, we get down to V—he can't do any of these things well, so on. We're going to be wasting time unless we just suddenly take this case and assess him and find out where he's locked up emotionally. Where's he trying to unmock before he can create? There's a thought so bad that it must be unmocked before it's created; and he's had people around him who tried to end him and his creation before he could create. See, they tried to reverse. And what do you know, that's the trick of the MEST universe: unmock you before you could create. And we're now looking for the first time at the real gradient scale, as we go down, in terms of location. It is the curve of losing creation and losing destruction.

So, as we go down this curve, we find that the MEST universe, more and more, is being depended on. And in particular, one factor in it is being depended on to destroy, and that factor is time. One is depending on time to wipe it out. And you will find out that a V puts up a mock-up and then waits for it to disappear. What does he think will make it disappear—if he gets any kind of a mock-up at all? He thinks time will. "Time will unmock before he can create," is the eventual computation he runs into at the lower part of the V band. "Time will uncreate before he can create," is the lower part of the band. The upper part of the band is, is just "time will uncreate it for me"—dependency on time to do destruction, and dependency on other energy for creation. So we get tremendous dependency on the MEST universe which is, in essence, black space—hence, the blackness.

Now, dependency on MEST universe, dependency on this and dependency on that—if you just started out on any course of action which resolved these various dependencies. We find out that he's locked up at the age of twenty-eight with his first wife having deserted him. See, pain. All right. We find out his emotions turned off more or less at that time. If we merely get him reaching and withdrawing from her, we get some effect; reaching and withdrawing from her. Very often one of these cases will just hang right up there till somebody says, "All right. Now, start reaching for this girl. Now, withdraw from her. Now, reach for her, and withdraw from her."

All of a sudden he'll say, "She's in Keokuk, and I—to hell with her." And his emotion will be on.

Well, he's depended on time to wipe out his sorrows—that's another thing he's doing, you see. "After—if I live for a while, why, it'll all come out all right and I'll forget it all. And time will let me forget. Time is the healer." Time is the great charlatan. Time never healed anything. And he's depending on time to heal it for him. In time, his emotions will turn on again; in time, he will find somebody else; in time, this way. And he gets down to the bottom of the band and he's really dependent on time, then time itself—he's getting anxious; he doesn't dare start something, because he hasn't enough time, you see that? He doesn't dare start something.

Now, this can be, by the way—a person can get into that position where he just isn't putting in enough time to get everything done that he wants to get done. That's entirely different than this tremendous anxiety which comes over somebody that he doesn't dare start anything because he won't be able to finish it. It doesn't matter how much ability he may think he have natively, but his creativeness went by the boards just with that one. He can't start it, because he'll never be able to finish it.

Now, we find artists hanging in the middle band. They start things and they never end the story, or they never finish the painting. If they finish the painting, they feel they'll be dead. These people can't arrive, and that's typical of anybody in that particular band. He may be very able; he may be making quite a success out of it, but nevertheless, he has tremendous anxieties about arriving, because arriving to him is synonymous with death. And he is running away from death so hard that he has inverted the cycle of action by dependency on the MEST universe and time.

Now, this process—you can run this V case on any one of these steps that I've given you right now. SOP 8-C is that versatile. He doesn't have to have a special step; he can be run on any of these steps. But when we say V, we are saying he is so match-terminaled with the MEST universe, he is so identified with a body and so on, that every time you try to exteriorize him, you're going to run into this big trouble of discharges. When you try to put up emotional patterns, you run into these discharges and—of emotion. And flows—he gets into flows very easy. And the blackness persists and persists and persists and persists.

Well, the trouble with a blackness persisting—he's got things which—the machine which makes blackness is the MEST universe, and his dependency on the MEST universe gives him a machine that makes blackness. By the way, you can sometimes get him like this: you can have bottles spouting out blackness and just have him keep putting up bottles spouting blackness and bottles spouting blackness or little machines making black clouds or something like that, one after the other, and gradually his blackness will dissipate.

Sometimes you can put his father out there or his mother or her mother out there, something on the sort of half a dozen times, with the idea of ridiculing, shutting off his communication, other people shutting off his communication, people putting—making him put his attention on himself and so forth, and all of a sudden, boom! The case comes out of the brush.

But all of those are gunshot tech—pardon me, they're not—they're very specific techniques that you have to work with, with considerable skill. It's much easier if you actually know what he's doing. He can't see through blackness. And anything he puts there is going to be destroyed before it is created. Now we wonder why this fellow can't get a mock-up. Naturally, the thought to create anything brings about the fact that it's destroyed, and that fact is made by the mechanisms he has, to be primary to its creation. Something gets destroyed before it's created.

Now, you wonder how the devil that could possibly happen, but it can happen. It's an interesting thing to have him just keep putting out: "Just get the idea of destroying something and then putting it out; and destroying something and then putting it out; destroying something and then making it; destroying something and then making it," and all of a sudden, the man's sitting there looking at the history of his life. He sits around, and he sits around for hours, and says all these horrible things will happen if he does so-and-so. See, he's going over the complete pattern of destruction before he creates anything. The only way to live is create it and throw it in their teeth and to hell with them. Nothing can happen to you anyhow.

He's reversed this, reversed this. And although he, on the surface, may not give you any indication of this, he has learned to uncreate his emotions before he feels them. Horrible! It took me a long time to find out what people on that band were doing, and it was very curious.

But there are many such drills, and let's take Step III and apply it to the V, and let's find out nothingness in all directions. And let's take Orienting Straightwire, which is that part of Step I which asks him where he isn't, and we'll find out that works on him. And we find out, however, that Step II doesn't work on him. That's just a … Well, it works to some degree, but just don't bother with it too much—that's automaticity and so forth—because his barriers are the barriers of thinkingness.

When we get to Step V, we specifically … So you can use Step I and Step III on a V, and you will actually mess him up if you use Step IV. So just omit II and IV for a V. But you can use all the I and all the III you want to on a fellow who's quite occluded. And you can use these special categories which go into V.

Now, to better understand V, let me tell you what happens at VI. Here this person at VI is not holding his own anymore. In mock-up form, things are being presented to him—he has almost continuous automaticity in mock-ups, almost continuous. There's always some flying random motion on the subject of mock-ups. He is being presented with all of the light and everything which he has.

Now, this flying, random automaticity. He's being presented—he asks for a plate and he gets a cow, and the cow is wiggling its ears. And just about the time he's supposed to do something with the cow, why, it changes into a rabbit and jumps over a tree. It isn't how silly the mock-ups are, it's how uncontrolled they are. And this person is almost in continuous automaticity—just continuous, consecutive—he can't control any mock-up.

What do you think a VII is? A VII is where the MEST universe itself has moved in and is beginning to present the wrong object. The fellow looks at an ashtray—right there in the broad daylight, looks at an ashtray and finds himself looking at a black widow spider, not an ashtray. He is looking at a box of matches that we all agree is a box of matches, only he knows that that thing is a coach. And this is where it is.

So we start at V, we've just got a battle in progress with the MEST universe, time, so forth. Now we get a VI, the battle is already lost in mock-ups—everything's automatic. And it isn't necessarily true, you see, that a V just graduates on down to VII; he doesn't do this. These guys go on and on and on, and they keep fighting the battle, getting better and getting worse. Because normally, somebody who's going succumb in this universe, he just succumbs right straight through I, VI, VII. See, boom! And we've got him. And the fellow who isn't going to succumb, he goes through II, III, IV and V—that route. Then he gets down at the lower rungs of V, and he battles and fights around and roars around at himself and at others and fights through the machinery and finally abandons the whole damn thing and starts it all out new again. And he's always perfectly willing. By the way, it's the willingness to persist by change which marks him as different.

I had these two states described one time, very well. And you take a psycho—psycho's going down the road, and he goes right straight down the road and all of a sudden a little zephyr comes along and goes whhhh! at him, and he just moves off the ruts and bumps into the fence. And he caroms off the fence, because it sent him in the other direction, he walks diagonally across back—the road, and he runs into a small tree and it kind of pushes him that way, and he's walking back down the road he just came, but then he hits a culvert and he stumbles there, and he has to turn around to examine something, so when he stands up from turning around, he's going down the road the first way he was going, but he hits a stone, and this caroms him off to the other side of the road. See, in other words, he's just being blown in all directions.

Now, let's take the other kind of case, the potentially (quote) "sane" case; this is why we can't just say this is a dwindling spiral into insanity, because it's not. And we take this case, and he's going down the road and he gets hit by a truck and he picks himself up and he walks on down the road—he isn't going quite so fast, but he's still going in the same direction, see. And at that moment, why, a tree falls across the road and hits him with one of its branches and he climbs over the tree and he's going a little bit slower, but he's going on down the road in the same direction. And something slams him on the right side and it turns out to be a baseball thrown from a sandlot and so forth. And he picks it up and throws the baseball back and goes on down the road.

You get the idea between these two characters? One is actually being—as much as anything else, he's determined to be prime post unposted. He's not going to move out of his course, that's all. God help anybody that pushes him out, because he just resists back. And this is a losing game to some degree. But nevertheless, he can always just skip the whole thing, you see. If he's going to change at all, he's going to move himself on his own self-determinism to an entirely new road, and then he's going to go down in that road in the same fashion. That's the—that's essentially the differences in these cases. All right.

So, a VI is being presented in mock-up form—his own stuff's all unmocked and substituted for in mock-up form. And a VII, he's all unmocked and so is the MEST universe. And he's being presented with another universe by superauto-maticities. As far as V is concerned (I'm showing you it's not sequitur), the MEST universe is unmocking before he can mock up—and remember he is the fellow who is running the machine called MEST universe, see? I mean, he's running his own machine that creates this. He's using blackness there because the MEST universe is blackness, and he of course has to manufacture an awful lot of blackness.

He's probably gotten awfully good at manufacturing blackness in space opera. I have not found anybody who was—with occlusion who was not a past master in space opera. You start running him along the line on space opera and brother, you really got it; you really got it. And a lot of I's I've run into, I've had to—when they've been in space opera—I've just had to bail the hell out of them on blackness. You know, they keep running into pockets of blackness and that sort of thing.

Also, there's several black theta traps. There's one up here, the Horsehead in Orion—the black Horsehead in Orion—is a theta trap, and guys can get stuck in things like that. But they're really there because they need the stuff, you understand; they need blackness. Basically, there's somewhere on the line where they decided blackness was good, and they've been using it ever since.

Well, you put up black barriers for such a case and have him see through them, by doing what? He's got a black barrier, so you put up a black barrier two inches in front of him, two inches in front of the last one, have him see through the last one at the new one. Now you put up a new black barrier outside the second one you had him put up, and have him see through that at this new black barrier. And so you get his black barriers further and further from him, and interspacing this with what I gave you yesterday for III, which is to say, seeing nothing in all directions, and so forth. And believe me, this boy will crack up, but royally, as far as an occluded case is concerned. And not crack up into psychosis; he will just get meaner and meaner, and finally break through and become a Step I.

But the only way you can possibly exteriorize this fellow is get him to a point where he can unmock the body as it remains sitting there. The body's going to leave before he does. You understand that? So you just make that possible.

Okay.

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