Humpty Dumpty talks prosperity

Double-Talk

“There’s glory for you!”
“I don’t know what you mean by ‘glory’,” Alice said.
“I meant, there’s a nice knock-down argument for you!”
‘But‘glory’ doesn’t mean‘there’s a nice knock-down argument”, Alice objected.
“When I use a word,” Humpty Dumpty said in a rather scornful tone, “it means just what I choose it to mean—neither more nor less.”

“The question is,” said Alice, “whether you can make words mean so many different things.”
“The question is,” said Humpty Dumpty, “which is to be master—that’s all.”

So, while at the Spiritual Rights Foundation my world went upside down. And by upside down, I do not mean a knock-down argument. I mean the familiar words and phrases I and likely you grew up with were re-defined, their old meaning washed away.

Prosperity is a word thrown around a lot at the Spiritual Rights Foundation. Everyone there desires it, as we all do. Everyone there strives for it, as we all do. But SRF's definition of prosperity is unlike anything I had heard of before.

Has anyone heard that the definition of prosperity is "getting what you need when you need it"? I haven't either. At least, not until I got hooked up with SRF.

I grew up in an upper-middle class family in an upper-middle class suburban neighborhood. Over the years, my parents accumulated two nice homes, a substantial investment portfolio, luxury cars, and an interest in a commercial property leased by FedEx. Vacations were taken at least twice a year to places like Europe, Asia, Las Vegas, the Gulf of Mexico for Marlin fishing, Victoria Canada for tea at the Empress Hotel. Not too bad for a couple of kids who lost everything after WWII.

I had a hard time reconciling my knowledge of prosperity with the new definition.

But that was Bill's definition.

None of the things I was familiar with meant anything when it came to prosperity. In fact, Bill frequently said I grew up as a "yuppie puppy" and that my knowledge of prosperity was zero. That my experience with prosperity was exactly none. That I needed him to find the way to real prosperity. And of course, that the only definition of prosperity that really mattered was "you get what you need when you need it".

So, Bill Gates got all that money exactly at the time he needed to drop 20 billlion or so to get those things out of layaway at K-Mart? Or maybe he hocked his watch and needed a couple billion so he can turn in the ticket.

Looking back, that was an absurd definition of prosperity. That I accepted it was even more absurd given my background.

Were there any other absurdities at SRF? If you know of any others, please leave a comment. It can be a huge page.

The Good Mentor

I've been asked if I have more on my dad's time with Frank Lloyd Wright.

I'll get a bit more together later but here is something you can look at in the meantime:

And yes, that old guy in the flat hat is indeed Frank Lloyd Wright. And the young fellow in the red sweater bears an uncanny resemblance to the blog author.

That young man went on to build a custom home for his first client. That home still stands today and the original owners still live in it. The owners say the house has never, ever needed any maintenance or repairs even to this day, enduring harsh northern weather with grace. The house is exquisite, built with hand-selected natural materials and embracing a panoramic view of a beautiful lake. The architect said it was the hardest damn thing he ever did.

He swore off building houses forever after that and focused only on commercial buildings and shopping centers. One development was "The Crossroads" in Sacramento, CA - a breathtakingly beautiful shopping center that thrived until some idiot flying a jet that he was not licensed to be in crashed into it. He also built a lovely shopping complex in downtown Santa Cruz called "The Galleria" (he just designed them, he didn't name them). This complex was so well engineered, that while every other nearby building suffered damage in the 1989 Loma Prieta Earthquake, his was unscathed.

Through it all, he helped many young people learn the finer points of his craft. Even though, like his teacher, he was a brilliant engineer, my dad always said he was in the business of design, not construction.

Joy and I were the last people my dad saw before he passed. Joy told me my dad won't leave the Earth until he sees me one last time. I'm glad he waited.

Bad Mentor, Good Mentor

Bill Duby was fond of saying that the founder of the Berkeley Psychic Institute was his closest spiritual mentor and that the time Bill spent at BPI was full of close contact with BPI’s founder. Bill went on to say that he was “taken under Lewis’ wing” and treated somewhat like the heir to the BPI legacy.

We all took this for granted for a long time. Like up until now when I decided to get to the bottom of the whole thing.

Bill’s history at BPI is somewhat of a mystery. A few who had attended BPI simultaneously with Bill remember him being there but can’t recall that BPI’s founder had any particular affection for Bill other than for the money Bill spent there.

I also discovered that shortly after enrolling in the BPI Clairvoyant Training Program (a two-year course of training) at BPI headquarters in Berkeley, CA, Bill was expelled by none other than Michael Tamura presumably for being a pain in the ass. Apparently after some kind of appeal to someone (it is believed that the founder was not involved in the appeal), Bill was reinstated but was shoveled off to a satellite location about a half hour away in Walnut Creek, CA. It seems that the founder of BPI was not fond enough of Bill to have him nearby.

No one recalled seeing Bill at the Berkeley headquarters, much less recall seeing him at the foot of Lewis Bostwick, the founder of BPI. Legend has it that Lewis Bostwick was far more interested in complaining about imaginary plots against him and pinching the asses of his female students than he was with mentoring a banished pain in the ass.

In fact, if the official SRF timeline of Bill’s life is to be believed, Bill spent at least one year attending BPI and Marc Reymont’s New Age Awareness Foundation simultaneously. The notion that one could have cultivated a close relationship with Lewis Bostwick (after being expelled, reinstated then relocated a half hour away from Berkeley) while pursuing studies with Marc Reymont in San Francisco (nearly an hour away from Berkeley, factoring in Bay Area traffic) sounds pretty much impossible.

Bill was graduated from BPI in the prescribed two year term and awarded the title of “Reverend” by the Church of Devine Man. As I hear it, Bill was graduated not one moment later than the exact time necessary to complete the Clairvoyant Training Program. Bill was fond of saying that Lewis Bostwick blessed him with the words: “now go out and learn”.

Unfortunately, we were the ones who learned something: we learned how a con man operates. We learned how far two women will go to protect a man and conceal theft and deceit. We learned how much we could be debased and to what depths we would descend to gain favor and status.

And as for Bill: he learned how to control minds, bodies, hearts and souls. He learned how to make money using other people’s money. I mean, he made money by TAKING other people’s money. Bill learned how to use women to get away with whatever kind of crazy notions he may desire. Like the rape of teenage girls.

Many members of SRF claim knowledge of Bill Duby molesting the daughter of his own partner as well as another young member of the cult. As far as the partner’s daughter is concerned, that was said to be covered up with a secret (and illegal) agreement involving Bill, his partner (who now serves as SRF’s president) and the girl’s father. As for the other, it’s spoken of quietly out of respect for the person involved.

That is some kind of mentoring. Looks like Bill took pinching of asses to a whole new level.

I have a different story for you. It is also a mentoring story. One that even my wife didn’t believe until she found confirmation.

My dad was a young man in the early 50’s. He and his family were wiped out after WWII as were many of Japanese ancestry. Their farm, their livelihood was just plain gone after they returned from their internment. A caretaker had sold it out from under them and kept the money, daring them to come get it. Of course, no jury or court at the time would uphold the rights of a Japanese American citizen who's only crime was the birthplace of their ancestors.

My dad was able to scrape enough together to attend the California Polytechnic Institute in San Luis Obispo just before WWII started, and stayed until he got hauled out of college because of the internment. He then set his sights on architecture as a career. To obtain the education necessary, though, he had to attend a good college and study from a real architect. So, he hitchhiked across country landing on the East Coast.

Every college he applied to rejected him for one reason and one reason only. He was denied because of his ancestry . Commonly, he was told that he lost the war and he better get his yellow ass out of town before they set the dogs loose to straighten out those slanted eyes.

Discouraged, he set back for California. On the way back, he stopped at the home of a man he admired. Just to see the home this great man built. Just for a moment before he went back home to a life of picking fruit and plowing fields.

To his shock, the man came out to say hello. And after hearing my dad’s story, the man hung his head as was moved to say, “I am truly sorry for what you and your family experienced. “ Then raising his head , looking my dad in the eye, this famous and accomplished man said “So, you want to be an architect? I'd love to teach you. In fact, you can start today. I’ll tell Iovana to get you on a scholarship and we will get your dorm room set up for you. Come on, we have lots to do.”

Of course my dad being who he is, stammered out that he and his family will be happy to pay for his education and that, you know, at least make me do something for this.

To which, Frank Lloyd Wright said to my dad, his blue eyes twinkling and his wry smile on his lips, “Well if you feel guilty, you can be my driver.” Then waiving his hand said, “Come on! Come on! ”

And that started a six year odyssey with my dad and Mr. Wright.

And that odyssey began a lifetime of creation, prosperity and the honor of having been inspired by a true genius. His projects provided employment for thousands of workers, comfort and enjoyment for those who resided and worked in them.

And I never heard of him pinching anyone ass.

Well, my mom’s sometimes. But let’s not go there.

And just last year, the California State Polytechnic University at San Luis Obispo conferred a rare honor upon my dad:  he was conferred a posthumous honorary degree for his sacrifices during WWII and his internment.  For those out there who believe that's an empty gesture or a useless item: just try to get one of those on your own.

And then try to enter Taliesin for six years.  Oh, and try to get that training with Frank Lloyd Wright.  I'm sure your psychic powers can resurrect Mr. Wright and you'll receive all his knowledge through the ether.  Many healings and psychic readings as well as hours of trance will help you I'm sure.