Tuesday, May 25, 2010

hark, i have heard the sphinxes roaring each to each

a friend and i complained about our mothers. from what he tells me our mothers seem so different, yet both so eager to overreact to inconsequential day-to-day events. "oh, you got a haircut!" "oh, this tea is delicious!" "oh, you have a papercut, maybe you should see a doctor!" annoying. accordingly, for my own mother, i've developed an extraordinarily blasé and controlling manner of expressing myself, not necessarily to deprive her of her manner of interacting in life, but to protect myself from being reeled into a sort of craziness that i find overly-engulfing.

i don't know how to speak of the work to others - i think even related to that in some prior post - mostly i think people just don't ask the right questions. but here was an opportunity and i offered some impressions.

first i related about a nyt photographer/blogger/journalist visited the then-oldest person in america, and when the blogger visited they sang together some stupid song tantamount to "old macdonald's" (i think the story no longer loads, and besides, i found it to be in bad taste, and it is besides the point besides, but here's a link). i suggested to my friend that it is tragic that we don't have an "inner life," and that such eagerness to live vicariously through distant or shallow events evidences a lack.

then i suggested that the riddle of the sphinx should be attenuated:

what has four legs in the morning,
two legs in the afternoon,
three legs in the evening,
and no legs at midnight?
as though we need to develop something for the time when we maybe lose a faculty or two.

finally i related that we spend our lives responding to whatever life serves up, but that some esoteric ideas suggest that if there were a way to guard against life taking that we might keep something and with it create something for ourselves.

but you know what, he never hears that far, something stops. or maybe it's me - i can only experiment, and perhaps what i said may bother him enough for him to maybe ask me a question i might be able to field.

anyway, in retrospect this reminds me of a joke (i'd be embarrassed to tell this juvenile joke, but easy enough to cut-and-paste, but as i write this stuff out i like it more and more all over again, like i'm back in grade school, go figure):


A scientist was interested in studying how far bullfrogs can jump. He brought a bullfrog into his laboratory, set it down, and commanded, 'Jump, frog, jump!' The frog jumped. The scientist measured the distance, then noted in his journal, 'Frog with four legs jumped six feet.'

Then he cut the frog's front legs off and ordered, 'Jump, frog, jump!' The frog struggled and jumped. The scientist noted in his journal, 'Frog with two legs jumped two feet.'

Next, the scientist cut off the frog's back legs. Once more, he shouted, 'Jump, frog, jump!' The frog just lay there. 'Jump, frog, jump!' the scientist repeated. Nothing. The scientist noted in his journal, 'Frog with no legs is deaf.'
i particularly like in that telling of that joke the allusion to "a frog like that you don't eat all once," that the writer spared the listener the unnecessary cutting off of a the third leg, and instead removed the third and fourth together, but most of all, that the experiment is ludicrous!

anyway, even people in the Work may lose their minds and bodies, but what if something really learns how to work? or what might be a result of someone in life constantly repeating om mani padme hum or the Lord's Prayer - would they be inclined them to automatically repeat that innerly during their incapacitation or dying in parts or even dead? why do Tibetans read out loud to a corpse from the Book of The Dead?

what can be trained? my aunt was always obsessive-compulsive and now has fairly advanced alzheimer's. notable is how meticulous she is even now (another nyt reference had someone allude to an alzheimer's parent as putting the "mench" into "dementia"). i doubt her ocd gave rise to such a meticulous and sweet dotage, but rather, her meticulous essence might have participated in her ocd, after all, she is a lawful product of contemporary life. but still, essence does have the capacity to mature, we are told we can "grow our essence." when i die altogether or in parts, how will i know where to go? will i "go towards the light?" here's a story i heard the other night:

the mulla was invited to participate in the opening performance of a broadway show - he would have just one line, "HARK! I HEAR THE CANNON'S ROAR!" eager for acclaim, he accepted and began repeating his line, emphasizing it one way or another, "HARK! i hear the cannon's roar" or "hark, I HEAR the cannon's ROAR," or padded with a pause, a sigh, a vibrato. he tried it high, he tried it low, he tried it flat he tried it emotionally, "Hark, I hear the cannon's roar!" for days. his poor wife. poor everyone, as he flew to new york, "Hark, I hear the cannon's roar!" "Hark, I hear the cannon's roar!" and from the airport already to the theater, "Hark, I hear the cannon's roar!" "Hark, I HEAR THE CANNON'S R-O-A-R!!" "H-H-Hark, I-I h-hear the c-cannon's RROAR!" finally, at the last-minute he was ushered onto the stage for his moment when suddenly -B-O-O-M-!- "WHAT the FUCK was THAT!?!?"

(a HarkHarkHaHa).

i thought i was done, but my readers have probably come to expect several modifications of my postings. not even including fixing all my typos. generally just to overwork the point i tried to make previously. so, with my apologies ... the use of the story above and my "discussion" obviously correllate to conversation recorded by ouspensky in which someone asked about the possibility of reincarnation, and whether it was possible to believe in cases of communication with the dead.
But think for yourselves what there is to withstand physical death in a man who faints or forgets everything when he cuts his finger?

Hark!

while i have legs shouldn't i be extrapolating and interpolating, or at least learning my lines? which lines, however, is probably important ... i remember a childhood experience from a shoe store salesman, he asked me and my brother how many different ways we could ask, "what am i doing?" - kind of like that cannon story, we came up with various manners of "WHAT am i doing?" "what AM i doing?" "what am I doing?" "what am i DOING?" - "acting like an idiot!" he sang in reply. bastard. but ouspensky included gurdjieff's elaboration around the idea, which conveniently to my word play, relate to "lines":
But if a struggle begins in him, and particularly if there is a definite line in this struggle, then, gradually, permanent traits begin to form themselves, he begins to 'crystallize.' "But crystallization is possible on a right foundation and it is possible on a wrong foundation. 'Friction,' the struggle between 'yes' and 'no,' can easily take place on a wrong foundation [... resulting in ...] something solid, something permanent [-] [s]uch people can become immortal. But what is the good of it? A man of this kind becomes an 'immortal thing,' although a certain amount of consciousness is sometimes preserved in him. But even this, it must be remembered, occurs very rarely.

ouspensky appended that one of the people who heard that exposition later asked of gurdjieff
"In what way can one evoke the struggle between 'yes' and 'no' in oneself?"

"Sacrifice is necessary, ... if nothing is sacrificed nothing is obtained. ..."

a ship was out at sea many days after land was expected. provisions ran out; the navigator already cast himself overboard! the distraught passengers and crew prayed, "oh god, please save me, i'll be worthy," "oh allah, please save me, i'll remember you," "oh god, please save me, i'll refrain from lying, adultry," "oh allah, i'll be a better person," "dear allah i'll be charitable" when the mullah, pointing into the distance, shouted "there's no need, hark! i see land!"

there's always tomorrow.