Experienced meditation leaders often speak reverentially about teachers they’ve studied with in South Korea, Thailand, or Burma.
I’ve often thought that it would be neat to be so serious about meditation that I would have a personal teacher to guide me through the philosophies underlying the practice…all the while knowing I likely will never approach that level of commitment.
Then today, my uncle, Ernst Gumpert, died, and I realized that I did have a teacher, that he was my teacher. He was 93 years old, living in western Canada, so I couldn’t be there, but I suspect he was meditating even as he lapsed into a coma the last couple of days.
As I grew up, I was told that Ernst was “the black sheep” of our family, into all kinds of weird teachings. He seemed pretty ordinary to me, running a gas station he owned, and then a car wash. The main thing I saw that made him a little different was that he was a vegetarian, and when I visited his house near Chicago, we’d eat strange-tasting meat substitutes (probably tofu, seitan, and tempeh).
The other thing that was different was that he was a physical fitness buff well before it was fashionable. One summer during college, while I was living at home and working, he encouraged me to meet him to play tennis several times a week at 6 a.m., before we both went off to work. He was an aggressive player, and we had great fun.
It turned out he had chosen a different path a few years after he arrived in the U.S. in 1932 as a 19-year-old refugee from Germany. He had become intrigued with theosophy, a non-theistic movement focused on ethics and humanity.
That led him into becoming a vegetarian, and eventually into yoga and meditation. As a young adult, I scoffed at most of his practices, not that he was especially preachy. Sometimes he couldn’t help himself, like when I told him I liked Burger King Whoppers and chocolate shakes. “That stuff is junk,” he would say.
“What’s wrong with a hamburger and a shake?” I would ask. “It’s just protein and a drink.”
I could see by the look on his face that he didn’t know quite where to start. “You don’t know where the meat comes from, and you probably don’t want to know. And that drink is full of sugar.”
“Well, what’s the matter with sugar?” I persisited.
“Sugar is a killer, it’s just bad for you.”
I remember wondering, if a fast-food burger and drink were so bad, why would they be so widely promoted?
It’s said you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink. Ernst led me to water back in 1993, when he alerted me he’d be visiting from Canada at a retreat center near my home, a place called Kripalu. He’d be there for several weeks, but maybe I wanted to come for a weekend and see him.
I visited, and I drank. I loved the yoga, and I loved the vegetarian food. I guess I was finally ready for his teachings. That weekend was the start of a transformative journey for me that is ongoing.
In the intervening years, he would send me books about various aspects of spirituality. The one that had the greatest impact on me was “The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying”. It changed the way I thought about death and, in so doing, changed how I thought about life. I told him how important it was to me, and he was very pleased. My family and I also made several trips to Edmonton where he lived, and we had some memorable times skiing and hiking in the Canadian Rockies; his lifestyle enabled him to ski until he was 85.
Ernst frequently told me he wasn’t afraid of dying, since it’s a natural outcome of living. His biggest fear was losing his faculties and living for years as an invalid. Fortunately, that didn’t happen, as he spent only a few months in a nursing home. He left quietly this morning. My condolences to his daughter, Diana, and his wife, Barbara.
It’s said in several religions, “If you save one person, it’s as if you saved the world.” I thank Uncle Ernst for saving me.
The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying by Sogyal Rinpoche is full of amazing stories of amazing people. It sounds like your Uncle Ernst was one amazing soul.
My condolences, David.
Your tribute to your uncle moved me to consider which teachers had the most profound effect on my life. And they all happen to be writers whose books caused a paradigm shift in my thinking, just as this blog is doing for many. Out of respect and admiration for these writers, most of whom have passed on, I would like to honor them by listing them. In order of their influence on me starting at age 12,
C.S. Lewis
Robert Audry
Garrett Hardin
Marvin Harris
Scott Peck
Will Durant
Phillip Slater
E.F. Schumacher
Lawrence LeShan
Stephen Jay Gould
Wendell Berry
Has anyone else had their perspectives changed by any of these men?
Simone de beauvoir
Doris Lessing
MFK Fisher
Elizabeth David
Sally Fallon
Laurie Colwin
Georgia Gabel Schram
DH Lawrence
Michael Pollan
etc
(thought my list would add a little pink)
Whoops!
I"m embarrassed. I had no idea my list was all male. And what does that mean about me?
OK, Annie Dillard, Rachel Naomi Remen, Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Muriel Rukeyser, Karen Armstrong and Holly Atkinson are women whose writings have changed who I am. The difference is that they have effected me emotionally/spiritually rather than intellectually.
So, have I been discounting the emotional/spiritual in favor of the intellectual? I think so and I see it is a mistake. Could this be a paradigm shift I’m having right now? If so, I’ll have to add the name Jean to my list of intellectual greats who have changed my thinking.
You do your uncle the greatest honor by mentioning him here and by continuing his efforts to enlighten others. Your family is in our families prayers.
In the spirit of sharing as Steve and Jean have done:
Weston Price
Rachel Carson
Joel Salatin
There was a time when, asked for such a list, mine would have been all or mostly men, too. I know what that said about me.
David, rather than condolences i send you congratulations, which is not quite the right word, for your luck in having such a positive influence in your life over so many years.
Marianne Williamson
Stephen Covey
Neale Donald Walsch
Sally Fallon
Weston Price
Margaret Mahler
Caroline Myss
Clarissa Pinkola Estes