This is the second period this afternoon. This afternoon, I'm going to give you the integration of these two things: geographical location and positioning — positive and negative positioning — in auditing terms.

And this is November the 18th, the first afternoon lecture.

Now, every time you try to position somebody, you run into the fact they may start thinking or start being where they are — they might start being where they think they are. You get that?

The first thing I want to tell you is that while I appreciate the fact that sooner or later you may feel you're going to instruct in this subject, I hope I'm not teaching your notebook. I hope I'm not auditing your notebook. That's a fact. That's right, I hope you're not auditing on that basis.

You ask somebody, "Now, are you in Paris?"

When you sit down in front of a pc, you want this stuff in your head. And I'm trying to cover it over and over, backwards and forwards over the same ground and so forth, to put it in your head. Savvy? I want you to have this material so when you sit down and the preclear starts to scream, scream, scream and jump up and jump out the window and so forth, and go through the normal American evolution of being processed, that you got the data, pang! right there — verbally. And if you've got the data right there verbally, by that time, you'll be having no trouble with your case either.

And he says, "Yup."

Now don't get self-conscious. If you still want to put down notes in your notebook, that's all right with me. I'm not telling you not to put notes down in a notebook. Go ahead. But make sure that I'm putting it in your head and not your notebook. A lot of people have a beautiful circuit, and some people have gone all the way through a university teaching a notebook. When they get all the way through a course, sometimes some goofball professor says, "Now, let me see your notebooks and make sure that they're thoroughly taught." (audience laughter) That's right.

You say, "Hm. Are you in South America?"

I know one professor, used to grade solely on the notebook. So we had a system: We just handed him in the same notebooks at the end of every course. He took them. Nobody ever bothered to appear in class, he never noticed. He'd gotten it — teaching — down to an automaticity the like of which we'd never heard of before.

And he'll say, "Yup."

But this morning, by George, while I was processing you, we had some of the processing going down in a notebook. Well now, by golly, I didn't like auditing that notebook because the person doing it needed processing. All right.

"Hm. Are you at the North Pole?"

Now, let's understand the purpose of these lectures I'm giving you. They aren't actually what you would put under the label of "I'm trying to teach you something." The truth of the matter is, I'm trying to unteach you. If I'm doing anything, it's that. And if I can succeed in unteaching you a lot of automaticities and preconceptions and so forth, we'll be successful.

"Well, yup."

You wonder why I said we ought to have something called "American procedure." We ought to have something called American procedure very, very neatly, because this is the most automatic country on the face of the earth today.

Now, right there, without going into the impossible and the incredible and the dangerous methods of relocating him, unless the case is very far down . . .

Talking about space opera. Space opera used to be a lot of fun, you know. You'd spend two hours getting into your suit, and you get all this equipment and you get it all here and there and you stuff it and fill up your pockets, and then you climb up with this two hundred pounds of stuff, up a ladder that's about thirty feet tall, to get into some kind of an airport. And you get inside this ship, you see, and then you regulate about five hundred switches and you have to pair — repair four or five electronic circuits and you patch some things together with chewing gum and you strap yourself down in a seat and take off. And then you navigate like mad, going three times the speed of light, trying to navigate by stars that are invisible for some days. And then you land someplace for the skin of your teeth, and boy, you really knew you did something. That's right. You really knew you did something. All right.

When a case is real far down you've got to go much further than this. I mean, you've got to go into the impossible and the incredible and the dangerous — just shake them loose. Because they're not in shape where they can run anything like, or understand what you're talking about.

Space opera toward the end of that time got into this kind of a circumstance. (You did this over and over and over again.) A fellow went down and he climbed aboard a little trolley and he got in this trolley and it took him on up and he landed in the ship, see. And he'd sit down in the chair, and the chair strapped him in and adjusted his oxygen and so forth. And he — finally it just — the chair decided that he was well enough seated and well enough strapped in, and the ship took off on a prearranged course to a prearranged destination, at a prearranged speed. The chair and instruments and so forth took very good care of him, fed him and breathed him until he got there, and landed him safely at the spaceport. He got out. Nobody'd knew he'd done a thing because he hadn't done anything — it was all automatic. The people who had done it was the technicians. All right.

But this is merely the case that doesn't understand what the devil you're talking about, and is pretty foggy and gropes around, and so forth.

Let's compare that with what we're doing with a preclear. And we find out that in those areas where an individual is accustomed to having everything done for him — you push a button and so on and that happens — we're going to get rough cases. And we're going to get the roughest cases out of the person who's pushed the most buttons. Just like that. He — his life is running on a push-button basis. It means that the society itself is busy keying in all of his automaticity. And one of the first things it keys in is occlusion. Pang! There he goes, see? It's all automatic. He knows he didn't do anything.

Any case present here, you would follow into this kind of a position: You would say, "Now, let's waste a machine that sends you someplace." That's actually, you think, maybe Step IV. No, it's not. That's Step II. This guy is not going to exteriorize well until he can be located well.

Now, if you could just get a preclear to go out — just get him to go out and take an axe and knock a fence to pieces, all the way down the fence — the end of that time he'd know he'd done something. Wasn't any fence there anymore, there's just a bunch of splinters. See? He'd know that he'd done something. You get that?

Exteriorization, inability to, has immediately under it this heading: "Not located." That's all the reason there is to why a person can't exteriorize, actually — they're not located. Their abilities are somewhere else, see? Simple. Everything they know or can do or can feel — all these things are elsewhere. And every time you ask these people to get into locations of this or that or "where are they not," they either get occluded or the mock-up disappears or they disappear or the body unmocks or everything gets very solid or they suddenly fix.

Now, this automaticity goes further than that. It goes viciously further than that. It goes to the point where they expect the auditor to do it all. They think somehow or other if they punch a button on the auditor, the auditor will run for a certain number of hours and they will be Clear. The hell they will! They won't, and that's the end of it.

I had one case here, I asked him to disappear and he probably never, at any moment, felt more solid than just at that instant when I asked him to be three feet back of his head. And he all of a sudden fixed.

So it's up to you as an auditor to knock out the second stage. And it comes under Step II of SOP 8-C, which is automaticity. And the way you do this ... You see, the earliest shadow of this is, "Mock up the body." You have him mock up a body — mock up the body several times, till he's used to having the body outside him and he doesn't collapse a terminal on it the second he stands outside. And then he's outside.

All of this comes under the heading of, and we use — just use the word machinery in lieu of postulates and facsimiles, see? We use the word machinery. Because they very happily mock all this up in terms of a machine. But their mothers show up and their fathers show up and so forth, because these are machines, too. They're facsimile machines. They're biological machines. And they're all basically postulate machines. That's the most basic machine there is, you see, is a postulate machine.

Why are we doing that to a body? Been doing that to a body in areas where I've been around for about eight months. The reason why is, he's setting up the most automatic thing he's got. It talks for him, it squawks for him, it speaks and sees and hears and it even has gotten to a point where it combs its own hair, and it drives properly without direction and so on. Cause level of the body may be pretty good on a number of subjects. But a person stops causing them.

But you just don't walk into a case and say, "All right. Clip out all the postulates now which make you forget about all your automatic machinery. Now clip out all the postulates that hide all your automatic machinery. Now clip out all the postulates to protect all your automatic machinery. Now clip out all the postulates that keep your automatic machinery from appearing. Now clip out all the postulates that made your automatic machinery in the first place." And say, "All right, you're Clear. Five dollars. Next case." Don't do that. People like to drag it out longer. (audience laughter)

Having a hobby is simply being cause level over some kind of an automaticity. It's being a supercontrol over the top of something that is supercontrolled. You see that? Somebody takes up the hobby of postage stamps; well, that's not very automatic. But the fellow that takes up the hobby of ham radio is at least being cause level over a terrific amount of automaticity. And you know, he keeps on being cause as long as he keeps building and rebuilding equipment.

You want to know what this stuff is up here in the wall — this MEST is up here in the wall — it's a postulate. That's no reason it isn't real, though. The realest thing there is, is a postulate.

If you go into a ham radio shop or if you go into a ham radio shack, you'll find equipment and machinery and everything lying around all the time, and it's — "he's going to build" and "he has just fixed." If you'd happened to clip the switch and listen to a couple of hams talking, what are they talking about? Are they talking about their wives or children? No. Those poor people, the wives and children, have been forgotten long since — except when Irma comes in, is permitted to say, "Hello Joe. Yes, I'm glad that you installed the 6018 like you did. Mm-hm. Well, goodbye, Joe." The wife's permitted to step into the thing to that degree. (She's kind of automatic too by that time.) And when we have a conversation, it is a highly technical conversation about what they did to make something else more automatic. And a ham radio quits — he just quits cold — one of these boys stops when he can't build it any better. I swear, some of them, if they really thought they were reaching that goal, would at least plug in something on the wrong power line and blow it out. And you can trace back most of the accidents and so forth they have to just this anxiety "not to have it work too well."

Don't go into reverse on this and say, "Well, the most unreal thing there is about it — it can't be real because I just thought so," you see? He keeps saying that every once in a while, "Well, I just think so, so therefore it isn't real." Waaa! Boy, that person is an inverted one, see? Because he thinks so, it isn't so. The only reason anything ever got so is because he thought so. See what great simplicity we have here. All right.

Now, some people run bodies that way. The body starts to work all right and then they get afraid that it's going to get too doggone automatic and they start clipping off the various things it can do and making it tough for themselves. They wreck it in order to repair it. Nearly every case you have coming in has been pushed into this category. (Except somebody who has been directly PDHed. And he's had an automaticity set up for him that is simply dependent upon an earlier automaticity that he'd like to be unconscious. That would be fun too.)

Let's take this thing very logically — illogical basis — which is, is. It's merely a geographical location. Now, a geographical location depends upon the fact that we have to assume that there are barriers. So any machine that makes barriers is the most senior machine there is. Because that has to precede the machine which unmakes barriers. So you have machines that mock up barriers and machines that unmock barriers as your two fundamental machines.

All right. What's this amount to in auditing? It means that you, as an auditor, have got to be prepared to be cause.

Now, there are various other machines which stem from these. There are machines that make barriers disappear by covering them with blackness. And there are machines which fight other barriers by covering other barriers with blackness. And that cancel other barriers by — make them intolerably full of effort. Now, these machines are just basically these two machines: one, the machine that makes barriers and the machine that unmakes barriers.

How can you be cause? Well, the best way to be cause is to use the most basic mechanisms that you can possibly use to resolve a case. If you want to resolve a case of occlusion, the best thing to do is to take the very mechanism which takes occlusion and makes occlusion and continues occlusion. And what is that? It's an automatic machine that makes conclusions and occlusions and it makes exclusions and it's got all of these various things and it keeps jamming them in on the pc. He was happily using this machine on other people and other people and other people and other people, and this was all swell; except one day the darn thing got busted and wouldn't go, and worked all of a sudden on him! The machine's working on an "other person" target when it's working on his body.

See, viewpoint of dimension — the second you put out eight anchor points, you put out actually, in essence, eight barriers. And you've got space if you've put out eight barriers. You haven't got any space till you put out eight barriers. Space doesn't exist till you do. No reason to be tangled up about this, it's just — it doesn't exist, that's all.

When he thinks he has lost somebody that he needs — get this — he then has lost somebody he needs. Is that so? So the machine which is set up to run on "lost," clicks in. That's real simple, isn't it? The relay switches on these — basic machinery is Q and A. It's — "Lost?" The machine goes, "Lost!" see? "Crunch, crunch, crunch." So it loses him. See? And it makes him invisible.

So don't think that you can go on agreeing with the mest universe forever and have an excellent case. The reason why you can't do this is because the MEST universe is composed entirely of barriers. You've just asked the fellow to go on agreeing with barriers forever. And it's an automatic machine that you're validating.

Now, he's got other machinery that'll set up the same way. He drives somebody insane, so forth, he's got a machine there that he's going to use to drive somebody crazy. He keeps using it, keeps using it, and he keeps using it. And then all of a sudden, he suddenly realizes he has driven somebody a little bit off, he has reduced somebody's sanity, and the machine goes to work — on him.

So you keep punching this machine and punching it and punching it and punching it, and all of a sudden the barriers get thin and they shiver and the rooms start going out of plumb. And the Walt Whitman Hotel (which is one of the favorite things they were using up in 726) — boy, it took a beating during the last six weeks. (audience laughter) It all of a sudden is out of plumb. It grows in height. Well, these things — that isn't — nothing's supposed to happen that way.

He goes to college and decides the best way to do and get through college real hard is to concentrate like mad. And he concentrates and concentrates and concentrates until he gets cross-eyed. You can always tell this boy because when you tell him to look at the space around an object, his attention immediately snaps to a point beyond the object, slightly beyond the object. It doesn't even converge on the object. It's no space in the object, is what he gets. See, a scarcity of space — concentration. Too concentrated an attention. So he sets up this machine so that he can study. He sets it up so he can go into a lecture room and sort of push a little button, sit there, and he'll come out and at examination time he expects this machine to unreel for him three and three-quarters meters of chemistry. School system sets it up so he'll do that too. They keep telling him: "A student has to learn how to study. And the most part of that is concentration." So he sets up machines that do this.

You ask a guy to hold on to the back corners of the room and not think, that's real good. If you ask him to hold on to the back corners of the room and think, that's real bad.

And then one day he has to concentrate too hard on life. How does he do that? Well, he gets into an automobile accident and just before the accident, a glaring headlamp is right between his two headlamps, and he's looking right straight at that glaring headlamp, and then there's a sudden crash. He's convinced by now, but it turned the machine on. What machine? Thorough concentration turns on the machine which thoroughly concentrates. This is an actual machine. Does it have nuts and bolts? No, it doesn't. It has just as much nuts and bolts as that microphone has nuts and bolts. In other words, it's just the real universe and so it is something he put there with postulates. This is all there is to that machine. But he recognizes it in terms of automaticity and machinery.

What's the difference between these two? You ask him, 'Well, just hold on to the back corners of the room and just relax." In other words, let the machine called George do it. He's out of contact with that machine anyhow, and if he doesn't think, it's all right.

Why does he want automaticity in the first place? This is very simple. He wants automaticity because of the subject of randomity.

But now if he holds on to the two back corners of the room and thinks, he starts energizing all kinds of machinery. And so this machinery goes into action on the machinery which he's using to mock up the MEST universe.

What is randomity? Randomity is the amount of predicted and unpredicted motion which a person has. That's all. It's a ratio. The amount of predicted motion in ratio to the amount of unpredicted motion which the individual has. And he likes to have about 50 percent predicted motion and about 50 percent unpredicted motion, and that's his idea of tolerance level on randomity. What is randomity? Unpredicted motion.

And it's very funny about these machines. One day — one day not too long ago, I ate a smelt that probably did, a little bit, when it came from the butcher. And it made me a little bit sick at my stomach, just for a little while, until I went out walking around — walking around. And I located the machine that makes smelts, very simple, and kicked hell out of it. And the smelt disappeared. It's very simple. Wasn't anything to this.

You go down the street. You go down the same street every day. Nothing ever happens on the street. You walk into the same gates. You ring the same doorbell. You go into the same house. You eat the same dinner. And so forth and so on, and, boy, there's nothing unpredicted there. And you go down that street every day, so forth. And after a while, you're driving around, and you suddenly decide you'll drive down that street and have a wreck; at least put something on that street that is an unpredicted motion. So you've got to pretend you didn't predict the motion in order to have an unpredicted motion.

But, of course, the most direct thing to do was simply to unmock the smelt. And the next most simple thing to do is, of course, to not eat smelt. And the next most simple thing to do before that, is to not have a stomach or a body which needs anything like energy to motivate it. Simple, isn't it? All right. Now you get no randomity, see? Simple! Okay.

That's the tombstone which sits over the head of every unaware thetan: "I've got to pretend that the motion is unpredicted in order to have an unpredicted motion." And that is the basis on automaticity. The basic problem is he wants to be surprised. Now you get a thetan to take — mock up a box: "Now put something in the box that you don't know is there, so that when you lift the lid you won't know it's there and you'll be surprised." So he'll do that. And then he lifts the lid and it goes pang! And he's very happy about it. That's unpre­dicted motion.

So let's look over the problem of automaticity and geographical locale, and we find out there's no geographical locale unless some automaticity's been set up in the first place. As long as a fellow simply knows he is, he also knows where he is. If he just knows he is, then he knows where he is. But boy, a lot of people have come down the line on validation of automaticity to a point where they don't know where they are. See, they don't know where they are. And the reason they don't know is very simple: is because the machinery is superior to them. And the machinery tells them they have to have a location. So if the machinery tells them they have to have a location, then where they are has to be located for them by things which they create. But that's on automatic . . .

Now, when you give a person all unpredicted motion, or nearly all unpredicted motion, boy, he gets real frantic — he hasn't enough predicted motion to stabilize him. So he doesn't know where he is, he gets lost. Why? He has to be able to predict where the eight corners of this room will be tomorrow morning to know there's a room here. Right?

You know, one of the weird double-terminal buttons that you can run is — the least admired thing I know of in the whole universe is just this one, that's why it's so persistent — is "setting up something so it will continue to run with no attention." And you mock up yourself doing that in four positions and you'll find out it gets mighty hectic and erratic because you've walked into the center of automaticity. Real erratic, such mock-ups get very often. All right.

All right. Supposing you fixed it up, or fixed him up, by processing machinery till the eight corners of this room started appearing all over the universe. Now, he wouldn't know where this room was going to be, so he didn't know where he was supposed to be the next morning. Rrrrrr! But that is super-unprediction. Now, that is too much randomity.

What's the process then? Well, you play Step I against Step II. And you could actually just keep doing this Step I against Step II until a person gets cleared. Step I is "Where are you with relationship to the barriers?" And when we get to II, he didn't exteriorize easily and well on I, so when we got to II we merely assume — and we — remember, we'd do all these things with the person exteriorized too; it isn't just to get him out, that isn't our emphasis. When we get to Step II, we find out that we have located him by things which he had a hand in creating. See that?

Now, as far as automaticity is concerned, it immediately springs out of this: You have to say, "I pretend I don't know anything about it," so that a certain effect will occur. In other words, a person wants to be partially an effect as well as partially cause.

We locate him, he just feels fine about it, and then we're immediately into the echelon that he has exited and is located in — he's now located in space which he has a hand in creating. The essence of simplicity.

Well, he starts out with a chessboard. He mocks up a chessboard. And he decides to play chess with himself. So he sits on one side of the board, and then he moves around to the other side of the board and then he moves back to the first side of the board and moves a knight. And he moves to the second side of the board and moves a bishop to counter the move of the knight. And he moves back to the first side of the board and he moves out a pawn in order to guard the knight. And then he moves over to the other side of the board and puts a knight up in place in order to check the bishop and so on. And he looks at this and he knows, each time, what the motion's going to be. Of course, chess is a very unrandom game.

So at Step I we find out that he is not located in the space which he has created. In Step II, why, we start to make it unnecessary to be so dependent upon this space which he himself created and now thinks that somebody else is creating, see? So that's Step I and Step II, the values of.

You can forecast chess practically with the first — given the first three moves of the game and two average players, you can always predict the end of the game, poom! That's a very unrandom sort of a game. It's a very interesting game, I guess. But they had lots of time in India. So, anyway, even with a game like this, a person says, "Lookit, somebody else has got to be on the other side of that board." All right.

Actually, II is a much higher echelon step than I. But while a person is still inside, you find you have to go all the way down these steps to find someplace to start unmocking this maze — this mirror maze — which he's got fixed up and which he's lost control of.

So he goes over on the other side of the board, and he sits down on the other side of the board and he says, "I am somebody else." That's the first stage. Then he comes back to the first side of the board.

Now, lost control would be the one thing that you can say is in general and in common with all automaticity. He hasn't any control. It's where he doesn't have control that something is automatic.

Little kids do this. You can observe this. And they sit down the first side of the board and say, "Now my name is Bill and I'm making this move. And I go around to the other side of the board, now my name is Joe and I'll make this move. Now I'll go around here," and he'll — pretty soon you'll hear — you'd hear the person saying, as he was being Joe, "Bill, that was too clever for me."

And for instance, pc this morning did a couple of shivers, and — threw it a little bit to make her make a machine which would knock her out of control. Well, of course that's fun too. So somewhere back on the track they have a machine that knocks somebody out of control. That's the basic machine. But later on, a pc — earlier lives and that sort of thing — starts getting hit by freight engines and running through The Perils of Pauline in general, and this earlier machinery gets a lot of facsimiles piled up on it. And these are all barriers.

Well, the next real stage of this is a very simple one. He sits on one side of this board and he says, "Now there is a person on the other side of the board." And if he's a real able thetan, he simply mocks one up, endows it with life and then occludes its identity. But gives it an identity and occludes its actual origin. And its actual origin is that he made it.

Now, you understand that running a facsimile is validation of a barrier. People start validating the barrier called the facsimile to a point where that energy becomes, if anything, more real than mest energy. And that's why after, at the most, a few hundred hours of auditing, Dianetic processing starts to cave in. You see why that is? It's very simple. It's just that you validate the barrier of the engram.

Occlusion of actual origin is the first break over into an automaticity. An automaticity is something that will be done that something doesn't want to know anything about. The heck of it is, that there is not a thetan who can still make a body twitch, who himself is not capable of doing everything one hundred times better than some cockeyed apparatus that he set up that would trigger when he thought a random thought. He could always do it better. And yet he's got machines that make his mock-ups, he's got machines that unmock things, he's got machines that unmock the mest universe, he's got things that occlude the mest universe, he's got things that unocclude it, he's got things that make it solid, he's got things that put up barriers where barriers are not supposed to be. He's done these things all the way down the track and he's still got all his machinery. And he wonders why he's in a dwindling spiral.

If you validate barriers which contain unconsciousness, only — you can only do this for a few hundred hours and then all of a sudden this starts to become a new reality. Because you've set up an auditing machine which is — has as its prime purpose the correction of barriers. And the correction of barriers, of course, can only take place when you say, "I've got barriers." And this can only take place when you say, "I have no responsibility for the barriers," which is to say, "I didn't make them."

And the final end product of all of this is a body. And now you ask somebody to get out of the body! The body has been eating for him, thinking for him, spitting for him and doing everything for him — giving him all of his sensations, so forth. As far as he's concerned, this thing called a body is the most automatic gadget he ever heard of. It's learned how to play bridge, it's learned how to play chess, it's learned how to play the piano.

When you take complete full responsibility, it is the willingness to mock or unmock barriers at will. Any barrier, no matter what it is.

And you get some boy in his last stages, he will simply tell you, as he sits down to the piano, "Well, I don't pay much attention to it — my hands do all that." Sure, and he's got a sheet of music in front of him where Brahms is doing all the music. What's he doing sitting at the piano? (Probably is nobody listening to him either.) I mean, so it goes from "all ability to do everything," such as look at a piano and say, "Let's see, the way you play the piano is so and so, and probably melodies could come out of the — and let's see those strings. Those strings are — ah! very interesting, those strings are various wavelengths and they probably chord in this fashion, and that's probably going — goes on a cycle of eight, doesn't it? That's very fine. All right." Crash! Something twice as good as the "Moonlight Sonata." You think so? You think not.

Now, people go around all the time with mental blocks. They can't think of this, they can't think of that, they can't remember this and they can't do this. And they wouldn't dare get on a stage and do something because — and et cetera, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

Probably this looks very horrifying to you: the thought of looking at the doggonedest biggest truck with thirty-two speeds forward — and maybe you couldn't even drive a car, and you look at this thing and you say, "Let's see, now, the motor and so forth burns some kind of fuel or something. Yep. It's got wheels — they could probably go round. And let's see, the steering wheel goes this way, and now all you've got to do is slide it in. There must be some way to make it go forward and there must be some way to make it go backwards. The connections are so and so. Oh, those make it go forward and (mumble) backwards. Ah, that's all we need. Okay. Now that goes down there and there's some kind of a storage — there's juice down there someplace. Yeah, that connects up with a little, and one of them starts circling in, and there's got to be a flow of fuel over here so it comes out. Now, push the button there, throttle her here, push it in," and go off down the road. Doing a far better job than a truck driver.

All politeness, manners, social culture, is based upon validating series of invisible blocks. So these invisible barriers — these blocks, barriers, same thing — these invisible barriers themselves becoming validated, get more and more real, more and more real, and start to supplant the reality of the situation.

You see how foreign that philosophy is to the current philosophy that if you just study real hard, and if you drive one to get the experience, about fifteen years, you will eventually know something about a truck — at least to the degree of being an assistant driver on a transcontinental run.

You get somebody being very polite while the house is burning down. You see, he's rushed in to pick up the baby, and he brushed by somebody suddenly on the stairs and knocked them a little bit, you see. And he stops to apologize and excuse himself before he goes on and rescues the baby! Oh yes, that's more important than rescuing the baby! And so things go out of balance.

And of course we all know that an airplane pilot has to have four thousand hours in the air on all types of multiengine aircraft before anybody would trust him to sit in the passenger seat, practically. We know that.

And by the way, as I talk about this sort of thing, I'm kidding it merely because it doesn't deserve anything more than a little smile or a joke or a laugh. But I'm not trying to tell you that all this is real bad. As a matter of fact, it's a wonderful way to get randomity. It's real good. But you carry it too far and then say, "I've forgotten how I'm doing it," and then you've got other people around with whom you're in constant communication who think it's just wonderful that you started doing that out, that way, because he knows the only chains you can put on yourself you put there yourself. All I'm trying to do is tell you: "Now, look, if you throw away a few hundred pounds of these chains, why, you'll be lighter." That's all. It's a supersimplicity.

All right. Contrast that with a fellow who goes out and he says, "Hm. Hm. Hm. Yeah, there's (mumble) — mm-hm, mm-hm. Gee, this thing must take a nice line of balance. Well, all right, let's take it into the sky and find out." And then he'll say, "What the hell am I driving it from here for anyway," and go outside and put a beam on it and lug it across, the same system. Super-super-superautomaticity.

Now, a failure to exteriorize is a validation of a barrier called a body. You know, you've said, "It's there, it's there, it's there." After a person passes a certain point in this, all of a sudden it's not there anymore, see? The — that's automaticity for you. As soon as you've completely decided, and as soon as you're completely assured that the automaticity which you've set up is itself utterly dependable, from that moment on it deteriorates in dependability. So you set this body up and you get it beautifully trained and it's just like getting all dressed — training is something like getting all dressed for the show, with no show. You get to a point of where it's all automatic, and after that you don't put on a performance. That's quite a button, by the way — quite a button to run.

The more automatic things get, the less the individual. There's a definite law. The less automatic things are, the greater the feeling of accomplishment and the greater the knowingness. The more automaticity, the less the knowingness. The more automaticity, the less the certainty. The less automaticity, the more the certainty. The less the automaticity, the less the impacts. The more the automaticity, the more the impacts. Savvy? It's a very simple problem.

As a little kid you were always doing this. You'd say, "Well, gee, I could be Buck Rogers dead easy if I just had a space helmet and a space gun and . . ." You needed the equipment. In other words, "havingness before movingness." That's just reversing it. You've got to have movingness and out of movingness comes havingness. And if you haven't got enough sense . . .

So we're taking Step II. And Step II consists of knocking out the machinery.

Alexander had enough sense. One part of his campaigns way back there in the fourth century before Christ — he made his troops burn their baggage. And then he didn't have much sense after that, and he forgot to. And he got less and less motion. Believe me, he got less and less motion till they finally all said, "We want to go home." And they went home. And there went the end of the world conquest. Why? Well, when havingness has to come before doingness in each and every case, you get less and less havingness, really. Really. Because what comes before havingness is doingness. The postulate of motion exists before the particle is moving.

And let's just knock it out and to hell with it — you can always put it back! This is one machine that if you take it apart even vaguely in an orderly fashion ... If you at least pull the balance wheels out of this watch on the order of the first balance wheel that shows itself, one after the other — if you'll just go about it in that orderly a fashion and so on, it'll come out to the smoothest, slickest, cleanest job you ever saw in your life. Well, you'll be able to do anything. This doesn't mean you have to be permissive and let the preclear do anything he wants to do; because his favorite machine is the one you're gunning for.

And so, you've gotten all dressed up with a body and you have a recognized identity, and everything is swell, but no play! This is silly, see?

What do we get at the end of all machinery gone? We get somebody who can do anything. Just literally anything.

And now if a fellow's buried this fact away from himself, he's saying, "I'm having no fun." Of course he's having no fun, because he forgot what show he was supposed to be in! Very simple. He finds himself going to the office every morning and sitting down at the office, or going through the same motions every day. And because he no longer — he found it was — well, it was dull to just flip from place to place and be in this place and be in that place and look at this and look at that. He finally conceived it was dull or he let himself be talked into the fact that he conceived it was dull or something of the sort. And as he did this, he said, "Now, the best thing to do is give myself some limitation of motion. And the best way to limit motion is to be carried various places by something which is itself destructible."

Somebody was talking to me the other day that — who has no bearing on this, particularly, but this shows you what, on a relatively low level, a person can do. As a kid I used to have a lot of fun picking up the know-how on something else to do. And I'd pick up the know-how and then I'd be bitterly criticized by somebody — oh, but bitterly! You'd have thought I'd robbed the mint or something, you see? Because I could then do what I had picked up to do, but insisted that I could do it. And of all the arguments! Brother! They knew it took experience and so forth, and that fact I never found out.

Now, he forgets this and he starts walking up and down the street with a body. And you see, he takes the body here and he takes the body there, and then after a while the body's taking him there, and the body's taking him elsewhere. And you ask him to be three feet back of it, and he sits there waiting for the body to move him out of the back of his head. You actually can exteriorize somebody once in a while by saying, "All right, now have the body put you out back of your head."

And nobody was ever able to teach me this until sometime during the war I was running a corvette, and I had been called one time too many on an attack in the dark of night.

I was exteriorizing a case like this not too long ago .. . (You mind if I tell this?) And — exteriorizing a case not too long ago, and was getting along fine and used that technique: "Now have the body put you behind the head. Now put you back in your head." "Now put you behind your head," and so forth. A lot of effort on this case.

The favorite time for the subs to attack was around twelve, one o'clock, when it was nice and dark, you know. A little bit later in the war they were getting even worse. They used to attack at twelve or one o'clock after the captain of the sub had finished breakfast — after a late breakfast, you know, they'd attack the convoys — when he had good light, you know, and could see them. But early in the war they were still being foolishly cautious. I've never found out why they were being cautious early in the war, because there was certainly nothing attacking them!

And all of a sudden, he said to me, he says, "My body isn't doing it!" See, he was real, real determined about this. And the determination, it was a great certainty. No, his body wasn't doing it. And after that, why, with a little more work with effort and so forth, why, he exteriorized.

Why, I'd just been called one too many times at one o'clock in the morning. You know, when you're called — you've been up all day and then you're called first at eleven o'clock, but that was a log that your sound operator picked up; and then you were called at 11:22 (you'd just gotten back to sleep), and this time it was an empty lifeboat. And no fight in it, so you'd go back to bed and at 12:01 (oh, you were really asleep that time, you see), ring! and up you would go again to find out, of course, that it was merely a message which had come in on the battle channel that there was a battle going on just to the south of you. You didn't have anything to do with that, so you went back to bed again.

But after — I shouldn't tell this! This is the darnedest thing that ever happened. After he was well exteriorized and so forth, why, he was sitting back of his head very nicely, and he was fine. He reached up like this with his hand and all of a sudden goes, crunch! He tried to catch himself with his own hand, and he saw his hand closing on him, as a thetan! (audience laughter)

Well, the only trouble with this, and the way that the automaticity got laid in was, of course, I wanted it to be laid in, but I remember this sequence very vividly: at first, I merely had one call buzzer. You know, they hit it twice and I would hit the bridge. That's all, I mean, it was very simple. They hit it twice, I'd hit the bridge and then I'd hit the general alarm gong — if there was anything wrong. But war was speeding up a little bit, so we finally got up to two bops on this buzzer, which would simply go bzz-bzz rather calmly up above my bed, and they would hit the general alarm simultaneously.

Now, that gives you some idea about the validation of the body to a point where the piece of machinery, you see — it's supposed to work on an automatic basis and it goes on a different circuit. But that is only a very humorous part of the same thing.

Well, it was quite interesting because the general alarm gongs which they were issuing in World War I were merely automo, World War II, were merely automobile horns. They weren't general alarm gongs at all. They were stuff that they'd taken out of Buicks and Packards and automobiles, yo see, and they'd just park them all the way around the ship and these horns would suddenly open up.

This happens quite ordinarily in Theta Clearing. The body has done so much for somebody, and it is so much a piece of automaticity, that he has this problem of, it must move him out. And then when it can no longer do anything for him, then the auditor somehow or other must move him out.

Somebody'd throw a big lever on the bridge and that'd switch on all these horns all through the ship. And one, of course, would sit just outside my cabin. Bong! see? On would go the horn, and then two buzzers. Well, it was getting difficult to get out even with that, you see? That's — you get really staggery after a while and kind of sleepy. You know, your body isn't hitting too well, and you're supposed to be in the state of beautiful sadness of exhaustion because it is a war, and you're supposed to be doing something.

There isn't any reason why he really just can't be out, beyond this: he's set up this machinery. Well, it's set up to run that way, and so it's got to be undone the same way it's done. You undo magic by running, vaguely — but not in a time sense — but you've got to run somewhere close to a parallel of how it was done. And you just undo it, just backwards. So now he's got to have somebody else move him around or something else move him around, which is characteristic of an automatic society. He has an auditor, and the auditor's moving him around. Because when a fellow sets himself up as an auditing machine, that is really something.

So a telephone was run in. So the telephone bell, the buzzer, and the general alarm gong were hitting then, see? Well, that was quite adequate and got along for a while — until I missed one. So we put in another one. We put back into operation the old whistle tube. So another lookout would — on the upper bridge — would get on this whistle tube; and it screamed in my ear, right there, and I'd be out on the bridge with the whistle tube. Well, that was all right. But I got through all of those, and one time didn't turn out for GQ and neither did the executive officer. It was, I think, our fifth GQ of the same night, and so they — after that they sent a messenger down too.

And if you want to get some line charges out of some of these people present, just have them run, on the second step, "auditing machines." And if somebody's been self-auditing a lot, have him run "a self-auditing machine." Believe me, he's got one — it's his body. And you wonder why he doesn't get out of it. Well, he's automatically auditing himself.

In other words, we were actually building an automatic system. I was trying not to be there, you see, and the war was saying "be there." And my God, I never realized that an automatic system had been worked up until about 1946. About the spring of 1946, I was walking down the street, and a Buick pulled up to the curb, right near me, and blew its horn. And it set off this machinery. It set off the whole cockeyed works. And I got sleepy and I — I got sleepy and I got groggy and I got a sort of a frantic feeling, and I looked around and couldn't find what I was looking for, which was, of course, the bridge steps, and they were not in Los Angeles. And we got this thing, and it just got worse and worse. Every time I'd hear an automobile horn after that and so forth, I'd get nervous. It's a — upset. I knew I was supposed to go someplace, and I couldn't quite locate where I was supposed to go or what was supposed to happen. So I'd take it out on the automobile. And I'd say, "Well, that goddamn fool, what's he doing sitting there honking his horn!"

Well now, here's this darn machine that moves him into various places. He wants to be told to go. So he, long ago, has set up a machine which will send him to places where he thinks of. You know? He thinks of Paris, and the machine sends him to Paris. In other words, he sets up a relay that puts him in Paris when he thinks of Paris. Because he has the idea of having to be moved. There's no reason why he can't just say, "Paris." He knows if he wants to be in Paris, and he's in Paris. That's all there is to that. So you just clip out the machine. Otherwise it'll continue to baffle you on Step I — "Where do you think you're not?" You get that now?

All right. I've only told you this for one reason. I want to show you that Los Angeles is not in the North Atlantic. Nor yet, is it in the North Pacific — even though in the Pribilofs some gay soul, during the war, planted the sign: "Los Angeles City Limits." They really aren't out there, they're actually just before you reach Hollywood. But they had it in the Pribilofs. Los Angeles is a small village which is located very close to the Salton Sea. They have some interesting press relations with the rest of the world, but that's about all.

"Where do you think you're not?"

Anyway. Here we have, all across the line, automaticity. It's the right signal in the wrong place, making you reach for and try to attain a goal which geographically is not present. And when an automatic machine starts doing that, we get anxiety, demand for motion, feeling of danger in the environment. All of these things come right on in: tiredness, semiunconsciousness — all of these things. What are they coming out of? They're coming out of one of these darn pieces of machinery. That's all there is to it.

And the fellow says, "Well let's see, Paris? Yes."

But the only machine on that whole channel that would count even vaguely is probably back there, for this body, a couple of hundred thousand or a couple of hundred million years someplace, where it's all indoctrinated, see? It's supposed to answer to a certain stimulus-response.

Well, this starts to get very mysterious to him, too. See, it gets peculiar to him after a while. He doesn't realize the machine's in action.

Very early on the genetic line — even an anthropologist, a Darwinian, has long been recognizing this — that there's a sudden screech at night, and a fellow turns around and starts to go into action with his teeth or something. Very often he will roar.

Now, you're going to tell some preclear to unmock something and it'll promptly disappear. And nobody will be more surprised than the preclear. The thought to make something disappear, on his part, when given to him by the auditor and translated into his energy, triggers his machine and away it goes!

By the way, did you ever do that? Be startled at night and turn around and yell? Roar like an animal? Something like that. I've seen people do it. They are jumped suddenly, or startled. Well, an automaticity goes on in the body which tries to repel things away from it with sound.

Now, one of the reasons a person wants to be so darn secret about his machinery and his equipment and what he's really doing, and why he's hiding even from himself and from a body and from everything else, is because you could actually walk around and trigger people's automaticities.

Well, I imagine that you'd see that the fingernails tried to shoot out a little bit longer and get a little sharper right about the same time. Certainly this action happens: the palm of the hand develops sufficient sweat to permit a person to hold on easily to rock. And the soles of the feet develop sufficient moisture to be able to stick to what they're on, so that a person can get traction.

And you wanted to look hard enough and search hard enough and tune your wave bands up delicately enough, and if you were good enough, you'd simply be able to trigger their automaticities. They run like a bunch of puppets on a string when you do this. You can walk down the street (pardon me, walk down the street — you sail down the street and — just above people's heads or something like that) and every once in a while shift your beam around till you find it, bong, you see? And set somebody's automaticity up that tips their hat. And they, right out in the empty air, will tip their hat. Most surprised preclear ...

And you find anybody who has moist hands, he's in a state of perpetual signal saying, "Danger. Danger." And the equipment for him to put the automatic machine into action isn't present. There's no bridge ladder. See, something like the automobile horn is saying, "GQ-GQ-GQ," and he isn't able to find the bridge ladder. So he's half-unconscious, he's stumbling around, he's in a state of what they laughingly call "nervous anxiety." It's just "unable to finish a cycle of motion." Not nervous anxiety, that's one of these complicated definitions — doesn't mean a thing. It's just this thing: He can't finish the started cycle of motion. This machine is set to start running at any time "signal X" happens in the environment, see? When signal X occurs from the individual or the environment, the machine starts running.

When I was first researching this — I should give you a little research case that happened on that. I found out that they were using ridges — instead of moving their arms, people were using ridges to move their arms. People have two or three different kinds of systems to handle the body. And one of these cases of handling ridges, I told this person to simply put a beam — they were outside and in front of themselves, so I said well now ... That's, by the way, a difficult position to get most preclears in. When they're real good off, why, they go into it easily, but a lot of them have the Assumption in restimulation. They've got an old theta body right in front of their face and it has a vacuum in it. And other people occupy this space all the time out in front of you, you see, so you begin to think of it as other people's space.

Yeah, but the environment's shifted! And what do you know, man has progressed as well, in this society, as he has been able to continue to be cause over a changing environment. He's never adjusted to the environment. He's adjusted ahead of the environment, where he has survived. And so we have a continually changing environment, so the bridge steps are never present. The fellow is not in that locale all the time. The situation is never the same the second time.

Well, anyway, this girl beamed this thing on her shoulder and almost dislocated her right arm. "Well," I said, "with a little more caution, put some energy into the little ridge which is on the left shoulder." And she put some energy into it and the arm flew up again. So I said, "Now selectively start beaming these various ridges on these arms." And, of course, the motion was very random and very hectic for a short time, but she was able to sort out the exact ridges which she energized in order to lift teacups, in order to do this, in order to do that.

So you get your overt act-motivator sequences. The situation: He's got a machine set up to whereby he's learned how to box. So when somebody takes a poke at his jaw, even though he's unconscious, why, he hits the other fellow in the solar plexus. See? That's an overt act. Now the other fellow goes down.

And this preclear got more fascinated — they practically could see them out in front of their body, you know, sitting there saying, "Gee, that's interesting," and punching another ridge. "Gee, that's interesting," and punching another ridge and seeing what happened to the arm, see? Examining their own anatomy — just as though they hadn't set it up.

So someday, somebody comes along and hits him in the brisket, and he of course knows what he's supposed to do now. What? Go down. See, the other — it's — the machine's rigged so that's the way it happens, you see?

Of course, after she'd done this for a little while and got back into her body again, she fully expected, having blown up a lot of these ridges, that the body couldn't do this. So she had to concentrate, for a very short time, in order to lift a teacup — a split second.

But somebody, fellow — some fellow comes along someday and hits him like that, where's he supposed to fall? He's supposed to fall in the exact geographical location where the first time he dropped a guy. That's where he's supposed to fall. So ever since, he's trying to fall down on "spot X," which is a thousand miles away from where he is. He's never going to fall down on spot X, that's all. So an overt act-motivator sequence stays in suspension.

It's very funny. We found out afterwards this ridge was so darn prominent and so on, that in washing dishes she very often broke cups. Fascinating, wasn't this? She very often broke cups. She had a ridge that lifted a teacup delicately and gently while she conversed elsewise. Blew it up, and she stopped breaking teacups. Okay.

The machinery of attack and offense, defense and getaway, and apology, is in continual restimulation. Just continual. So a fellow goes along the time track saying, "What time track? Where am I? Just — if I could just get my feet down someplace and say, 'This is X.' Ha-ha-ha! Maybe I'm supposed to pass out when I reach X. But that doesn't matter as long as I've at least got X." Because it takes X to get the machinery running again, see? Then he feels it'll all come out all right.

The gain on this is apparently a negative gain, meaning you have less, but actually have more. So these two systems interlock.

But it's never going to. An automaticity never answers a second occasion. And the prime mistake that a thetan makes when he sets up all these beautiful gimmicks and gadgets, is that no matter how wonderful it was, it will never act for the second occasion.

And I told you this morning how to run out a machine. One of the first things you have to do is find out what kind of a machine are you looking at. And you tell the person to "Be here" and "Be there" and you all of a sudden find that he's going automatically or that he's just fixed — he's going noplace. He can't get out of his head. Well, that's "attention too dispersed, attention too fixed." It's being done on an automatic principle — what is he doing?

He puts machines away and forgets them so that they will act for a second occasion. But they never act for the second occasion. Some modified version — contradicted how many times, checked and counterbalanced — make it poorly workable the second time. And it goes on in this purely workable fashion.

You ask him to put his attention on space and it collapses on the object in the center of the space. Or his attention on the space and it collapses immediately in front of the object, see? What's he doing? Or you ask him to put his attention on the space on either side of an object and all of a sudden the object disappears. What are you basically dealing with, with those three tests?

You sit down at the wheel of a racing car, and if you've got lots of experience as a race driver — tremendous experience as a race driver — and you drive that car automatically, some kid is going to come along who's sixteen or seventeen and this is his second race, and although every veteran driver on the track is going to say, "My God, who let that goddamn fool on this track! He ought to be shot, outlawed, the three A's ought to throw him on his ear," and everything else, the kid still wins the race! Why?

Now, what are the tests? The test, very simple, is "Now put your attention on the object. Okay. Now put your attention on the spaces on either side of the object. Now put some emotion in those two spaces on either side of the object." That really puts his attention on it.

Now, people go through this second stage — they realize that they have become too unalert. It's all too automatic. And they all of a sudden give the machinery a kick and step back and take a look at what they're doing. And just by the process of consciously doing it.

And he says, "I don't know, every time I try to do that the object becomes brighter," or "the object splits in half," or "the object gets smaller," or "my attention seems to snap in just beyond the object."

Here's a guy, he becomes a veteran driver. All of a sudden he realizes he just lost his fifth consecutive race. Something's wrong. Well sure, it's wrong. So he looks this thing over carefully and decides to drive in another fashion. And this time he decides to drive the car, not to rely on the training that old Bill Wheelwright slipped him when he was a kid, because that seems passe. He's now going to drive the car.

This is merely a symptom of how much space he's able to spread his attention over. That's all it's a symptom of. That means he's gotten barriers to the point where he hasn't anything else but barriers. He hasn't got any space between barriers anymore. He's got lots of barriers and nothing between the barriers.

So he drives the next race and he's a little better. And then he consciously drives the next race, and he's a little better. And then he real consciously drives that next race, and the quivery feelings he was having by changing over style and things like that — these things are going by the boards. He isn't laying in another pattern. He's becoming more and more in command of the automaticity, simply by doing it in the mest universe.

Now, you want to give him something between the barriers. The best way to do that is to make it possible for him to handle barriers. All right. So we put his attention on either side of it, find out what he does. And you will just have to guess what the machine is, that's all. Don't ask him. He won't look at it. That's the one thing he's trained not to do.

If you can just coax somebody to climb up the side of the Empire State Building — outside it — he would lose, I assure you, about the fifth trip up, all fear of height. By doing what? He's just taking command of and keying out all of his machinery.

He — always with a great surprise — great surprise, his attention snaps together. Just — you see, this is a very simple thing you're doing here. His attention snaps together on the far side of the object, and you say, "Well, now let's run a machine. Let's waste a machine that concentrates for you." And he does that very happily.

So, you see, we have this truth, sitting back of this, about training. But people think that this is training. That's not what's happened. The person sets up a machine to do something, then depends upon the machine, then the machine lets him down. Then he decides to hell with this automaticity and he simply decides from there on to be cause.

But he's very puzzled as to how you possibly guessed this. Concentrates, be damned. You're just looking at a superfixed attention, which is so superfixed it doesn't even hit the object, it sort of squeezes the object in and locks on the other side of it, or locks on the near side of it. "Now let's get a machine . . ."

For instance, I was taking your pictures there a short time ago. I had some of the most beautiful, beautiful photography machines you ever saw. I mean, I just — it was just gorgeous. I mean, they checked over everything automatically and saw that it was all right and it's all wrong and that the time was proper and the bulbs were set. It just checked it over beautifully. And then as time went on, why, the flashbulb wasn't in, the shutter was set at the wrong speed, and — I mean, what was happening? The machine was breaking down. Because the machine is only as good as the person is conscious of it, and no better. And as he becomes less and less conscious of the machine, he becomes worse and worse.

Now, this other fellow: you say, "Look at the object." He doesn't. Every time he looks at the object his attention flies out on either side of it. What kind of a machine is that? You tell me.

So all of a sudden I just decided to take pictures again. I go around and each time I look at the camera, I say, "How the hell does this thing work," see? Ss-ss, boom. "Well, and this is — slides, so on, that's right." Why? It's obvious how the mechanism works. You can look at it. You go around the front and you look in the lens to see if the shutter is open or closed. Not is the thing on "T" or a fiftieth of a second.

Male voice: No-concentration machine.

I would have royally loused up the picture I was taking of you this morning because the camera — this beautiful piece of automaticity — was jammed on wide-open, no matter where you turned the shutter. Well, immediately that you looked at the camera, you could see that the shutter blades were wide-open. This is immediately apparent. But if you looked at the dials that were supposed to tell you about some other dials, which are supposed to tell you about some other dials . . .

That's right. A machine which keeps him from concentrating.

Reminds me of a fellow that taught me something about diesel engines one time. Yeah, we all had to learn something about diesel engines because diesel engines they made during the war didn't run. And they were stationary — they'd take big, huge, stationary, light-plant engines, you know, and strip all of the iron off them, supplant it all with aluminum, and then put them on a derrick and put them into a ship, and we run them at variable speeds. Ha-ha! Real cute trick. So you had engines 50 percent of the time. And sometimes even during an attack on submarines or something, your engines would keep going long enough for you to get away from the depth charges you just dropped. And the few times that engines would stop, well, ships were expendable because the navy yard and shipyard workers have to work, you see? So it all worked out for the best in this best of all possible worlds.

But that's rather condemnatory. "A machine which makes it possible for you not to concentrate" is the polite way to, you know, tell the preclear. And that's it. "A machine that makes it possible for you not to concentrate all the time." Because that's his automaticity. That's real cute, see.

But it is embarrassing when engines keep stopping like that. So they decided that anybody going aboard this new type of corvette was going to have to — to skipper one — was going to have to learn its engines too. This is an insult to — of any bridge man, you see?

He could run this machine over here, and he doesn't have to look at it. So he gets the machine set up that fixes it up so that some attention will go on to this machine; he doesn't have to look at it and he's got it all rigged up so he doesn't have to look at anything. Whoo! All of a sudden, why, that's what happens. But he tells you, "All right."

But I got to listening to this guy. He was an enlisted man and he knew what he was talking about — almost synonymous. And this fellow had worked with these engines a long time. And he says, "Now," he says, "I want to teach you about gauges. I want to teach you all about these little 'pyrometers.' The name of the gauge is a pyrometer. It tells you hot — how hot the engine is. Now, you know that a diesel engine has to run at a certain heat level in order to produce enough combustion on the injection." So he says, "Now, you — this pyrometer, you put it up there — you can put up this pyrometer and," he says, "you pay close attention to the pyrometer." And he said, "And after you've carefully read the pyrometer, which tells you how hot the water is and so forth, and after you've gone around and read all the rest of the meters," he says, "then you go around and take a look at the engine." And he says, "You put your hand on the water intake pipe and find out how hot it is. Now," he says, "you should have a big tub sitting somewhere near the engine so that you can throw the valve open and fill the tub halfway in order to see how clean or how dirty the water is that's pouring through that thing, and whether or not you can put your hands in it. Then," he says, "you go around to the other end of the engine and you look at the bearings on it to see whether or not they have oil on them because this glints in the light." He says, "But be sure and read those meters!" (audience laughter)

You say, "Put your attention on either — on the space on either side of the object." What happens? The object disappears. What's he got? What's he got? Puts his attention on either side of the object and the object disappears. What's he got?

As a consequence of just that piece of instruction, we were all broken down outside of a harbor one day, and I kept yelling down at the engine room — trying to use words to effect something in this society, heh-heh! — and kept yelling at the engine room and finally said, "Oh, to hell with it," and went down there.

Male voice: I'd say he's got a machine that keeps him from putting his attention on the object.

"Camshaft on the starboard engine won't budge. No oil. Must be bent. Must be warped."

Well, that's basically true. But what would you say he had?

Just looked at it — nothing, nothing. "Nothing wrong — getting oil."

Second male voice: A machine to make things disappear.

"Must be warped. That must be what's wrong with her."

That's right. See, it's simpler than you've said. Much simpler. It's something that unmocks things.

I said, "No. There's probably something dry on it, if it's not turning. It's probably frozen someplace along the line. Probably frozen."

And a person like this feels that he has to look solidly and hard at mest and keep his attention on it very carefully, or it'll disappear. And he's sort of got the feeling like he's got one finger in one corner of the room and one finger in the other corner of the room, and if he suddenly released his fingers the whole mest universe would collapse. It won't.

"Well, if you did get it unfrozen, you couldn't do anything about it because this gauge over here that says it's getting oil. . ."

So he's got this, and mest disappears when he takes his attention off of it. And he wears glasses in order to see MEST or he has corneas so he won't have to see mest. He's trying to handle a machine that is handling something, by handling it with another machine. He's got a machine starting something and another machine stopping something. He always has this. Anything you can say about any machinery, he's always got a machine doing the opposite someplace. It'll show up sooner or later.

I just remembered this guy just in time, see? And I took a look at this gauge, and sure enough, the engine was not running, and the oil pressure pump was not running — which the engineer has neglected to note — and the oil pressure gauge was reading sufficient pressure. Wasn't that cute! The pump wasn't running that gave it the pressure!

So, all right. We have any one of these machines. Now, we tell him to put his attention on the object and he says, "Yes. Yeah, all right."

So I sent for a couple of big pipe clippers and cut the pipes of it off and jammed the two ends together on a piece of rubber hose so that no oil went through the gauge. And got a piece of crocus cloth and held it on the shaft, while somebody rotated the shaft down at the other end, took an oilcan and squirted it full of oil, we started the engine and it ran.

"Well, does your attention snap in when you put it on either side of the object? Does it snap in on the object?"

You know, after that I suddenly realized that everybody that went aboard one of those ships that wasn't willing to go down in the engine room every once in a while, would have trouble with his engines; and I never had trouble with another one of those engines. Never did have any more trouble with them.

"No."

Why? Because every once in a while I'd go down in the engine room and take a look at them. And they'd sit there and they'd run. Furthermore, I'd often go along the side of the ship and take a look at their exhaust ports, and if they started pouring out vast clouds of black or green or white smoke or something like that, why, I'd get on the phone and say, "What the hell is happening down there now?"

"Well, put it on the object. Does it slide out any?"

"Oh, sir, we — we just — we just turned on the — the air injector too quick. That's all. We won't do it again."

"No."

On the ball, see? Well, as long as a skipper was willing to let his engine room run automatically, his engine room didn't run. Why? Because you didn't have very many people that could run engines. Tells you any ship in which anybody's not interested goes to hell.

"Does it converge in front of it?"

And it tells you any body — body, now — in which the fellow isn't being cause twenty-four hours of the day, goes to hell. And I don't care whether you're talking about its eyesight or its liver or anything else, it goes to hell just like a ship because it's just a complex organism which is set up automatically.

"No. What are you trying to do?" he'll say.

Now, that doesn't mean that you should do all of your breathing. But it's a good thing, once in a while — what do you know — to stop your breathing and start it again. It'll make you live for a while, you know? Breathing machine is never going to go to pieces if you do it.

"Converge behind you?"

I'll show you what I mean. If you — here's a beautiful example of automaticity.

"No, it's just the object," so forth.

Now, take a breath.

What's the matter with him?

Mm-hm. Now let it out.

Male voice: He's got a mock-up machine.

Now just take the normal kind of a breath that you take.

No. He's just real satisfied with that mest universe machine he's got. He wouldn't disturb it for worlds. You know? He's all very complacent about the whole thing. Of course he doesn't have much motion or action, see? In other words, he isn't having any trouble with attention — he thinks. All he can see is the mest universe. Remember that.

Now let it go a little quicker than you ordinarily do.

Now, don't come around saying to somebody after he gets out of his body that it's dull. Of course it's dull. The only set of barriers he has are mest universe barriers. He can't interpose or eradicate barriers at will. And if he can't do that, he can't pick up any randomity anyplace. You see that? He's satisfied with a barrier. In other words, he's got an automaticity in perfect balance. But yet, that would be a real good Homo sap. Kind of bored, but real good Homo sap. And that would be so high above normal or above average in the society that you could hardly reach it with a rocket plane.

Now take another normal breath.

Male voice: What had the preclear ought to see?

Now let it go.

Hm? What's this?

Now take another normal breath.

Male voice: What had the preclear ought to see? What's the right one you ask him to put his attention on then?

Now let it go.

There is no right one. Of course.

Another normal breath.

Second male voice: It'd have to be right.

Now let it go.

Male voice: See an improvement.

Normal breath.

The next thing you would ask that fellow is say, "All right, now as you sit there, see if you can't — there's a bolt there on the side of that machine — now see if you can see the machine without the bolt being there." Gradient scale, see?

Now let it go.

He'll say, "Yep."

Now take a normal breath and hold it a little longer.

"All right. Now see if you can see the machine without the upper part of it there — being there. Just make it go thin. See if you can get that a little bit thin — the upper part of the thing. Now let's see if you can make it thicker. Now make it thinner. Now make it thicker. Now make it thinner. Now make it thicker. Thinner. Thicker. Thinner. Thicker."

Now refuse to let it go.

And all of a sudden, pang! he has control of the thing. He can say, "It isn't there," and it's not there. And he can say, "It's there" and it's there.

And let it go. (pause)

Soon as he's controlled this type of an operation, he can mock and unmock a mest universe barrier at will, at least for himself. And you do this with walls, and you do this with people, and you do this with other things, and then you can do it with his own body.

What's happened to your breathing now? Did you go on having to breathe? Huh? Did it really lapse back into automaticity or just go on breathing? Or did you have to go on breathing?

Or you can start out with his own body first — "Now get your nose not being there. Unmock your own nose." See? You can unmock the whole body and just leave the preclear sitting there two feet above the chair. There's the essence of the situation. Because he's depending on this to locate him so thoroughly, that his whole track is jammed. You see how that is? This person's very satisfied with this — that's just fine — that tells him where he is.

I'm very unwilling that upsets your breathing for the rest of the day. But do you see that I very well could, with that process? It could just set it up for the next month — you'd have to remember to take every breath. Boy, you'd consider this a real hardship. And you'd say, "Well, gosh, all of my attention would be occupied, then, with breathing."

He shouldn't need this to tell him anything about where he is. He should be able to see it or unsee it at will. Right?

Oh, would it? You mean you'd have that much more attention, is what it means. Anytime you can find something to put your attention on that you're regulating, you have that much more attention. And nobody ever realized that — they think it's the reverse. They think attention is a finite quantity. They think a fellow is born with two and a half quarts of attention.

Male voice: What's the scoop when your auditor asks you to unmock it and nothing happens, and a split second later you forget that he asked you, and then it unmocks?

You can get, finally, so that you can go clear across the boards with this. You can make the heart beat. You can make the blood flow. You can do all of these things.

I would say this was just difficulty in shifting attention. I — tell you what I did to somebody that had this "lag" happening, very short time ago — this little lag, little lag. He kept remarking on these little lags. "Now get a machine that checks it over and makes sure it's all safe before you do it." Does that hit you?

Mystics in — not mystics, but the lads over in the mountains over in India used to do this. Well, they did it wrong way to, and to the opposite ends of the poles, as far as I could see, when I was a kid. They would take over these functions, one by one. Yogi is the process of trying to take over these functions. They try to make this the end-all and regainment of. And then they write a book saying, "The various centers of awareness of the body are . . ." And then they name seven of them, and one is the serpent and one is the dog, and it's very interesting and very complex.

Male voice: Yeah.

But one's the "corona" and I don't know whether they thought the corona was the thetan or not, but I know there is a ball of fire in where they say the corona is, that used to be an old eye. And here we have the — how to actually liberate these centers. You start at the furthest one from the thetan, and they bog you down with the problem of can you exteriorize an entity? Urrrr! By the time anybody has worked on one and two and three and four — you see, he's number seven — why, he's got himself so doggone thoroughly out of control and in restimulation that he'll never get out of his body.

Okay. That's an automatic checking machine — little time lag in it.

It's very simple. I know, because I worked this. I just — with malice afore­thought. I saw the book of the chakra and looked it over and — oh, gosh, I must have been about fifteen — I got real curious about it, I started asking people about this darn book. And I ran across it not too long ago — gorgeous pictures and so forth — ran across it and I said, "I wonder ... Now, that's very interesting. It's very funny that a person answers up on the meter to the names given to these areas. And the meter bongs every time you answer him up on one. It's very curious."

Well, now there's a tremendous variety out of these simplicities. But it's just — you just hit it on the button. Or hit it way off the button — waste any kind of a machine.

And so I started to exteriorize somebody in that band — they didn't talk about exteriorization, they merely talked about the rehabilitation of that center. Well, I thought, "Well, the best rehabilitation that center could have is give it a boot. So let's just exteriorize it one right after the other on up the line." And I got to center number three and the whole case fell in on me. I was doing it very nicely too, very carefully, well within the Auditor's Code and everything else. Real grim. In other words, it really pinned the fellow down.

Now, what ways do you use in doing this? First, is you can make the preclear do it and then not do it, and do it and not do it, until he's thoroughly doing this at will. Got that? That's the first step, always. In other words, you just make him do it instead of the machine do it. The machine will do this, sooner or later.

It's like Bishop Sheen the other night. (He doesn't have very much sheen, so don't hold it against him.) He was talking about everybody had to have a hard head and a soft heart. The brain had to become solid. That was it. And what God really wanted people to have was a completely solid brain and a completely soft heart. Now, this is great. I mean, this is wonderful allegory. The only trouble is, that seems to be straight into the teeth of clearing, isn't it? And, of course, no tradition has ever come down the line that people mustn't be free! There mustn't be such a — never would be, naturally. I mean, nobody of that character who was trying to sell saints would ever try to unconvince other people that they weren't. So, you see, naturally, that supposition is very libelous against the Church.

By the way, he's got a machine that sets this up, this tells you that sooner or later that damn machine is going to stop setting it up for him. You get that? He's very satisfied with the way that sits there. Well, that's just fine. What childish dependency. Sooner or later, why, he's going to start looking around, when he gets to be a few years older or something like that, and he's going to say, "What wall?" He doesn't garnish this in any way — he doesn't — it's just there. This is the practical, matter-of-fact person. And as he goes along in life, the whole universe starts to slide out from underneath him because he's just stopped leaning on it, he's just lying down completely. It tells him what to eat and what to wear and where to go and what to do. It evaluates for him.

That's an inverted seventh dynamic. Very often you don't get anyplace with an inverted seventh dynamic unless you waste ghosts. Somebody's been into spiritualism, something, well, you waste ghosts in brackets. All right.

Now, evaluation is this — evaluation, the definition of evaluation, is changing position in space. That's basically evaluation, see? If something can change a person's position in space, then, that person — depends on the intention — but that person, of course, can then evaluate for the individual.

Now, we're not off the subject two inches when we're talking about this. Because we're talking about Step II and we're talking about automaticity. When this fellow — you ask this fellow to get out of his body, he — who has gone into very deep automaticities, and he's actually down below III or IV or V, you wouldn't ordinarily do very much to this case but just go on down the line. Except with Clinical Procedure. And you have to know all this about all the case levels on a Step II basis.

You don't get this very much — an auditor — there's Change of Space Processing. An auditor says, "Be here, be there, be someplace else," and so forth. For the first few minutes after the session, if the preclear's been very concentrated on the session, the auditor's word has carried a lot of weight with him. It fades right away because, of course, the intention behind it is simply to return self-determinism, not to interrupt it. So you get — a guy will get another postulate in the road of the natural consequence of this. Well, why do you think Mama evaluates for the body? The body was carried around in a womb all over the place by Mama, then packed all over the place as an infant by Mama, and then Mama finally says, "Well, I remember when you were a little girl, such and such happened and so-and-so happened," (and it didn't happen at all, by the way) "and you were so-and-so, and I was so-and-so and you said so-and-so, and you used to have curls until you were nine."

In other words, what is Step II to all cases? Well, Step II to all steps is the automaticity of that step. And somebody who cannot bring himself to discard this much automaticity — one body — is going to require a little more work before he exteriorizes. And that's what Step II tells you, and that's why: "Mock up the person's body. Mock up his body. Mock up his body."

And the fellow says, "Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yes, Mama. Yes, Mama. Yes, Mama."

Normally, if you just kept on mocking up his body for five or ten minutes, he'd exteriorize. If you just kept this up — unless he's in the effort band. You got to put lots of effort into things, you got to just get him so he's real good on effort and thinkingness into everything under the sun. And when he's real good at that, he'll be able to exteriorize. Because why? He can't work, because the body does all the work.

His memory is a thousand times better than his mother. You process some preclear, you run through birth, you find out there was nitrous oxide used in birth and so forth. Preclear goes home. Mama says, "Why, there wasn't any anesthetic used at all in birth. I just lay there and screamed, and they didn't pay any attention to me."

And the one common denominator of all cases difficult to exteriorize; the one common denominator, difficult to exteriorize — and below that level, what they have called neurotic, psychotic personalities — they have one common denominator that goes clear across the boards is, is they can't put out much effort. And the less effort a case can put out, the worse communication the case is in — communication state the case is in — and the less he will exteriorize. Can you follow this? He can't put out effort if he can't handle effort. So when you get a case there, he is either fixed on the idea that he's got to handle effort — in other — he's got to work, he's got to put out effort, or he's in a position where he can't anymore. So you fall into the two categories of work, which immediately mean effort. And there is your index. There is a beautiful index.

And the preclear comes back to you and says, "Well, you couldn't have run birth. It must have been a delusion as far as I was concerned, you see, because actually, I..."

You ask this person to discard a piece of automaticity. What automaticity are you asking him to park off of there for just three minutes or two minutes or one minute? You're asking him to park that piece of automaticity called a body off there. If he can't put it away from him four or five feet for a minute or so, believe me, he thinks he has to have it to do practically everything for him. It has to think for him and work for him and sweat for him and do the emoting for him. And he gets convinced on this one way or the other, and the thing for you to do is simply to bust the conviction.

And you say, "Did you talk to your mother about this?"

Now, we can actually actively bust a case and run a case with just Steps I and II. But we can't take one of these steps and carry it along independently of the other step because we keep running into the machinery. We ask this

He says, "Yes."

Well, you're not in a position to evaluate for him the way Mama can. Because Mama's carried him around all over the shop. You see that?

And he says, "I'm looking — I must be looking at a facsimile of the body, but I — I know the body is out there someplace. I'm certain I'm outside, but I just can't really see the body very well and I don't quite know several things about the body," you know? He's just in a situation there where he has a failure because of a machine that hands him facsimiles rather than hand him the real McCoy.

This stuff is saying, "Here you are, there you are, there you're someplace else, now you're someplace else, now you're someplace else, now you're someplace else," all the time, see — 100 percent evaluation! Boy, after a while this stuff becomes thick, heavy. You don't have to make any effort at all to keep from seeing through it. And as a matter of fact, once in a while you'll be a little tired . . .

Now, you can go complete reverse and say there's a reason for it. Anytime you say, though, that there's a reason first and an action second, you're trying to reverse and invert this "Looking-as-condensed-feeling Scale." See? You're saying the thinkingness down here is senior to the effort which is immediately above it. See? So the reason for: this fellow doesn't want to get out of his body, so he does so-and-so. Oh, that's a fallacy, it's a fallacy. You're making a mistake when you do that.

The way it ought to be is once in a while you're a little tired, something like that, you have trouble watching a television set. Because you're thoughtless about the whole thing — in other words, you don't have any real intention — just go over and sit on the television stage and watch the actual play rather than look at it coming through the set. Just rack around until you've got the actual television stage, look at it. It's in color, no flicker, no interference. Much better.

He doesn't have any reason why he wants to get out of his body — he's lost all of his reasons. He's got lots of reasons now, and he'll tell you lots of reasons, but these are justifications and they're merely after the fact. And the fact is, one, he starts to lose himself geographically by setting up automaticities. In other words, he keeps looking around for the bridge ladders and the bridge ladders aren't there. See that? He's nowhere there is a bridge ladder anymore.

And then you go a further stage than that. If you sit there, and you're bound and determined to sit there in your own home and watch a television set, which is the purpose that you're doing, why, you're liable to — if you're a little bit tired and aren't watching quite what you're doing — simply actually watch the television, not the screen. In other words, look at the cathode ray emanation point a foot or two back of the front screen. And you're — you watch this terrifically concentrated tiny scanner. There's a picture back there. I mean, it looks just as good as any other place.

There are people all over here who are thoroughly trained for space opera. Oh, just gorgeously trained for space opera. They're gorgeously trained to be couriers on another planet. They're just wonderfully trained and their bodies are wonderfully trained to be hunters. And the only thing they can hunt is something in a hat and silk stockings now. Nothing to hunt, see? Here are all these mislocated beings: They're mislocated in place and they're mislocated in time, and the culture is not the kind of a culture they're trained to be located in, and so they're completely lost. And they've been saying for thousands of years, "Where the hell am I?"

And by the way, you have other troubles with television: if you get too concentrated on the screen itself, you'll start wiping it, if you've got any power. I mean, that is MESTwise.

That's the first thing anybody says when he's been knocked over his head. You could drive a little dog insane simply by banging him on the head, and while he was unconscious, moving him into the next room and standing him on his head in the corner and letting him come to in that fashion. The little dog, the rest of his life, would go around saying, "You know, I didn't go — I — I just know I didn't go out with my head down in that corner in that room." So the two places are trying to be collapsed by these two dogs. He's here, while he's here, but this first room must be then this second room.

I mean, you can set up enough vibration in the thing to upset it. Or you can turn the screen on and off, after it's been turned off. That is to say, you can make it glow. Get it in a dark room — you can make it glow and then go faint and glow and go faint — actually glow and go faint. Somebody else comes along, you know, and sees the thing and there's the television set lighting up and going dark again. This is very upsetting to people. Well, it's not much of a trick if you've watched a lot of television, because you're fixed on that wavelength. Easy, huh?

The dirtiest thing you could do to a guy is slip an anesthetic mask over his face in one room, operate on him in another room and let him wake up in a ward. Why not just shoot him? Unless he gets processing he's going to be lost for the rest of time. Where? Just where you found him stuck on the time track — in an operation or something of the sort or in an accident. All right.

But as long as this stuff is all there is evaluating for you, you of course get completely mest values across the boards. Then you've limited your ability to this limit: that anything you use or believe in has to be constructed by the same methodology that constructed this. And that, in essence, is what's wrong with the engineer. See that?

The fellow hits with a terrific impact, goes unconscious, and the plane or the car bounces and goes someplace else, and then somebody drags him out of the thing while he's unconscious, and they put him in a car and they drive him to some town. No wonder when people have been knocked out, the first question they ask is, "Where am I?" First question they can think of when they come back. Because they've got a machine — all their machinery is set to go on geographical locations and positions; and as soon as they're transferred suddenly from one geographical location to another geographical location, they lose their sequence of positions. And when their sequence of positions are gone, they can no longer get from one stage of the machinery to another stage of the machinery, and the automaticity is lost and so they must be somebody else. They're living another life.

There's no reason why, for instance, you can't mock up a motorcycle and go down the road at 185 miles an hour on a motorcycle that runs far better than any motorcycle you ever ran into that was built out of this stuff. Might run a lot better. You could probably make out a noisier one too, oddly enough.

Death to another life is just that mechanism and no other mechanism. Now, this person — you ask this person, "Well now, if people have lived before, why, they of course know their name and so forth." Well, no, they don't even know where they went to school in the former life. I mean, they're bad off.

Male voice: Wouldn't break any rods either.

Here they've got all this automatic education which goes into fine furor and fury every time they try to study something. You know, it just blasts them. Now all of a sudden this person, they just can't study arithmetic. They — no accounting for this, see, and can't study arithmetic. Well, if you went back down the track or something or other, they were one of the most well-known authorities on Newton or something of this sort at some other university in some other time.

That's right. You could probably make a noisier one. Oddly enough you could probably make a far noisier one than people would tolerate in your neighborhood. Of course that's not in the bargain, not in the contract here — I'm going to teach you all how to be noisy ghosts and clank chains. But we can. That's a real trick — you just mock up the sound waves.

Arithmetic be damned, they were mathematicians. You start them up now with new stimulus-response mechanisms, new automaticity; the second he starts to make arithmetic automatic — he's all right as long as he's still cause where the arithmetic is concerned — he starts to make it automatic so that he knows the multiplication table automatically and pang! he loses his geographical positions because he's already lost them on the subject of mathematics. These geographical positions mix. He thinks he's, after that, someplace else with regard to arithmetic. He can't study arithmetic. He goes mad. You say, "One plus one equals what?"

How do sound waves mock up? Well, you have to know what they look like. Well, how do you find out what they look like? Well, you look at them, of course.

And he says, "Six, I guess. Is that right?"

Now, the motto — the motto in this First Unit was: "Don't think about it, look at it." Second Unit too. "Look, don't think. Look."

See what happens on automaticity and mixture of geographical positions. You can't take the subject of automaticity and throw away the subject of geo­graphy. And the only place you lose an automaticity, become really unconscious of one, is when you set one up in position A and start using it from position B. And your preclear that's holding on to some part of the track, is trying to hold on to the connective sequence between his automaticities, so he doesn't lose his sequences of geographical positions.

You find out every time you make a mistake around, it will be because you didn't look. Every time you've made a mistake with machinery, equipment — busted something, something of the sort, it's because you didn't look at it. You should have looked at it. You know, just get back and say, "I am now looking at it." And then let a machine look at it for you, such as ... (audience laughter)

If you restore to him his sequences of geographical positions, they can fall into line. Then the time track unravels, and all of his machinery stretches out into time where it belongs.

The body, for instance, is an automatic seeing eye dog. And you know how you actually see with a body? You drop a little gold plate over the front of each eye. And you know how you hear with it? You drop a little hearing point over each eardrum. Real cute. And you know how you feel with it? You drop a feeling point over each fingertip and along each nerve course. Then you forget that you dropped them there, and your eyesight deteriorates, and you try to beat up the mest eyes in order to see better. And what's pushed them in is the anchor points which you've got tied in there too tight.

I don't know how long it would take to do this, but it's plenty long.

Now, you say to somebody, "Why don't your eyes get better?" all the time. And the fellow goes on trying to adjust his body's eyes. And up to the time when you finally work him on a drill, and where you mock up a couple of eyes, couple of viewpoints, a little disk — or you mock up a couple of viewpoints, and send them here, and then mock up an optic nerve from the viewpoint to where he is and let him look into the end of the optic nerve, and he sees the viewpoint, he says, "What do you know!" And then have him put a couple out here on his nose or a couple on his ears and look with those, simultaneously, down an optic nerve and around the corner, so on, on the other side of a barrier. And he looks down these things and he looks through these and, gee-whiz, he's looking out of each ear, and he's seeing a lot better than he ever saw with mest eyes. Why, he gets sort of — "So what the devil am I doing!"

(Recording ends abruptly)

So at last he will take a look at what he's looking with, and it'll be a couple of these disks. Only they're all twisted around and all upset and all wedged and driven in, in some fashion or another, so that he doesn't see well with them anymore. Because he's not taking any responsibility for them anymore — he's letting them all run automatic.

When perception is done automatically, it deteriorates. When perception has deteriorated, it's been done too long automatically. That isn't, though, letting the body see for you. The body never did see for you. It never will. It's just a system that is utilized, and you know where to place these anchor points because it's made out of mest. So you put your viewpoints on the front of the eyes and go on looking through them. That's funny, isn't it?

Once in a while somebody has — the body puts one on a knee or something of the sort. And a preclear will have an interesting time — he's running around the body looking it over, and all of a sudden he's looking at the room. He's found one of the GE's viewpoints. It's real cute. Real messed up when it comes to straightening out perception without hitting automaticity.

Now, a process I want you to be — pay attention to, is you just diagnose what kind of a machine is interrupting beingness, see? Just interrupting this beingness.

What kind of a machine is it that keeps a person from turning on a sexual sensation in the wall? Simple? Now, you can remedy that simply by running a gradient scale and keying out the machine. You can run it by creating just — or just getting the preclear to do it, you know, gradient scale, until he can do it. Next, creating and destroying such a machine. Next, creating and destroying it in brackets. Next, and probably best for you, wasting, accepting, saving, desiring and being curious about, in brackets — bracket of five — such machines. Pang! Out they go. Boy, they're the easiest destroyed things you ever saw in your life.

Now, wiping out occlusion without treating the machines that make occlusion, makes a rough go for a preclear. I showed you that this morning, morning processing. Put the blackness on things. That's making the preclear do it.

We're bucking right straight into the teeth of all automaticity with this process of putting emotion in mest. Right into the teeth of it.

But it's time now that you put it into mest in brackets. Put emotion and all the things I've given you into mest in brackets. And where somebody is clearly bogged, why, the group involved and so on, should simply get him to waste the proper kind of a machine to square it up. And let's take out these reluctant pieces of machinery, the reluctant dragons, and give them a yo-heave. Got it now?

I want you to do that the rest of this afternoon and this evening. Okay.