Conversations For Transformation: Essays Inspired By The Ideas Of Werner Erhard

Conversations For Transformation

Essays By Laurence Platt

Inspired By The Ideas Of Werner Erhard

And More

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Creekside Cabin II

Ripplewood, Big Sur River, California, USA

June 13, 2025

"If a tree falls in the forest, and there's no one there to hear it, does it make a sound?" ... Bishop George Berkeley (1685 - 1753)

This essay, Creekside Cabin II, is the sixth in a hexalogy written in Big Sur:

The foundation of Abraham Maslow's hierarchy of human needs ie the physiological needs considered to be the most essential for survival, are food, water, clothing, sleep, and shelter. It's the latter, shelter, that occurs to me as the most essential. In a storm, I could forgo food, water, clothing, and sleep if I had shelter. To be sure, I'm not in a storm right now. To the contrary, this is a cool, still, quiet evening punctuated by staccato birdcalls, underlaid by the sound of the nearby river babbling over rocks and pebbles. I'm here for nothing other than to let it all down, to lay it all to rest, to chill, to get down to the basics of simply being. For this purpose, this cabin / shelter on the bank of this river, is perfect. Its interior is furnished in a style I call "impeccable rustic". There's cell reception and WiFi here, but no TV. That's OK. There's a way better show going on which you can watch just sitting on a couch, gazing out the window.

Photography by Laurence Platt

5:10:01pm PDT Thursday June 12, 2025

Cabin #3, Ripplewood, Big Sur River, California, USA

This place will chill you instantly. Nothing of what stresses (noise, traffic lights, cars honking etc) can be found here, nor within miles of here. Now is the time. This is the calm. And I can always unpack later. My first predictable action, born of relief, will be to dive (an authentic swallow dive, if you will) onto the bed, and just lie there. But it's not time for that. It's a bit too soon, I realize. Savor the moment, I say to myself. No sudden movements. When you've gotten everything you need unloaded, then it'll be time.

So I go out to my car and bring my diary, laptop, and tote bag into the cabin. I will definitely be using them. Swallow dive now? I ask myself. No ... not yet. I go back out to my car and bring in my suitcase with a change of clothes. Swallow dive now? I ask myself. No. Not yet. I go back out to my car and bring in my coffee, fruit, and a doggy-bag of leftovers from lunch. Now I'm fully unpacked. Swallow dive now?

No. Not yet. I can hardly believe it. I'm being compelled to get everything handled before I dive on to that bed. Nothing can be left out. I could leave all my things in the car, then fetch them when I needed them / if I need them. But the drumbeat I'm following wants it all completed first. And first means now.

Just as I'm ready for that swallow dive, I realize there's still one more thing I need to do first, and that's to take a nice, warm shower. Then it'll all be done. "Really?" I ask whatever it is that's compelling me. "Really!" it answers back. So I put everything in its place, set my laptop and diary on the table, neaten up my car and the cabin interior, put the leftovers in the fridge, and take a shower. NOW everything's done, and there's nothing left to do. With a towel wrapped around my waist, I finally dive onto that seductively beckoning bed, then just lie there, breathing deeply, exhaling. It's a sigh of release and relief - release and relief from the cessation of all erstwhile stress, the predictable outcome of dialing the hassle gauge back to zero, leaving nothing else to do.

I lie there on my back, totally relaxed. There's nothing to do. The only sounds I hear are the babbling river and staccato bird calls. The only sights I see are speckles of light on the river as it reflects the moon on the water. It's an unearthly silence, an unworldly silence. It's the silence that's left when everything is done, when everything is complete, when there's nothing else left to do. It's the silence which, once known, you want to have with you wherever you go, at all times, under all circumstances. Chilling in a cabin like this one, won't ensure the chill silence will always be present for you. It will, however, leave you with an indelible impression that you'll always remember so you can generate it for yourself forever whenever and wherever you want to. It's all yours now.

I drift off into a dreamless sleep, waking only when dawn comes. Immediately I rise, dress, and walk outside in the forest along the river bank. My body feels as if all ill-health, all malaises, all toxins are being extruded by the forest, that I'm being healed in every way imaginable, in every corner of my being by some giant benevolent power. It's the very antithesis of noise, traffic lights, cars honking etc. Experiences like these come with no words. Anything I say or share about them only conveys a fraction of them. You can't study how to get them, or (worse) figure it out. You have to be here and get it for yourself.

Communication Promise

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