Jed Talks #1: Essays, Teachings, Rants & Frivolous Frivolity

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  • Toe Jam
  • Satsang with Jed
  • Insane Little Monkeys
  • The Liberating Angel
  • What Is Enlightenment?
  • The Champions of Delusion
  • Yolanda Periwinkle
  • The Spiritual Anarchist
  • The Second Coming
  • Goldilocks Universe
  • The Magic Part
  • The Cross of the Moment
  • The Caneless Cane

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Print Edition (2nd ed.): $17.95 . . . . . Add to Cart

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Excerpt from “Satsang With Jed”

Apparel-wise, I’d have to make some adjustments. I’ve seen teachers in Western clothing and they don’t appear as enlightened as their costumed counterparts. I think I’d go with an unbleached cotton tunic and some beads. I’d just wear the beads because constantly fondling them might seem affected and cast suspicion on my other affectations. I think I’d also wear pants.

When hosting (conducting? dispensing? lording over?) satsang, I’d hold a single flower so everyone knows that I’m an enlightened spiritual master and not just some guy who got in early and took the best seat. I would probably want to have a piece of statuary like an om symbol or a nataraj, or maybe just a coffee mug that says World’s #1 Spiritual Teacher. And, of course, I’d need a framed photo of some revered spiritual guy, like an implied endorsement. I guess I’d go with Ramana which would grant me instant credibility with the audience, though Stan Laurel would be my personal choice.

We’d begin satsanging with a few minutes of silent meditation during which I would enter my mind-theater and replay China Doll from the Dead’s 1980 Radio City show. Then I would emerge with a dopey smile on my face and mutter something about the feeling of sweetness in the room. Next, I would gently shake out my hands which are a little tense from accompanying Jerry on air guitar, but which my audience would recognize as a cleansing energy release, further establishing my spiritual wizardry.

Eventually, I’d begin to speak. I’d start with some standard intro patter, sprinkle in a little light humor, maybe a little one-on-one banter to make me seem accessible and a self-deprecating anecdote to make me seem like a fellow herdmate, and then I’d launch into a lengthy explanation about how enlightenment is really nothing more than a simple epiphany, like remembering where you left your keys or realizing you don’t like soft cheese.

In case I got too close to saying something that made sense and might thereby discredit me, I’d sprinkle in a lot of Sanskrit terms, subtly widening the gulf between teacher and student and increasing the group’s need for me to guide them through these dark woods. I’d also make an effort to remember that we are gathered in satsang to engage in group turd-polishing, the critical distinction being that no one here wants to actually flush the turd of the false self, just make it prettier, less smelly, and more content in its turdness.

I’m relieved to discover that with the satsang crowd I can throw the word truth around very casually. I tend to be a bit anal about truth, and I think that might make me less warm and fuzzy as a teacher, but now we are redefining truth so it can mean all sorts of things like according to my beliefs, and as I was taught, and it seems pretty obvious, so that whatever is generally accepted or believed is now true. Consensual truth, how great is that? I think I’ve really missed out by being so literal with such a fun word.

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Print Edition (2nd ed.): $17.95 . . . . . . Add to Cart

Also available in print and ebook editions from Amazon and other retailers.

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