Tuesday, October 25, 2011

a slippery something

i once noticed that some oncoming pedestrians innately assume i will make way for them, and, unconsciously, i always do make way! that spawned some resistance, experimentation, and reasoning. i theorized that part of our ‘social contract’ includes a hierarchy – a pecking order – which is why, when i am minding my own business (i.e., asleep), walking on the 'proper' side of the sidewalk, if some alpha type comes at me (also asleep) and i fail to give way we risk a collision – even though the alpha-type will not be able to state exactly what i did wrong, both that alpha type and i know that my role is to give way, and my breaking that code is as much of a violation as if i ran in front of his speeding car. and now sometimes an oncoming unyielding pedestrian even reminds me to hold my ground. my theory is absolutely true. or absolutely wrong. or neither/nor, no matter.

one end of the stick, the outward result, is just that – i hold my ground, and whether i learned or confirmed something or made some sort of statement i do not know.

but the other end of the stick? even with the most enlightened of intentions, how is my spinning out some theory anything other than the mechanical dissipation of an impulse ultimately feeding the moon?

my brother remembers me waxing philosophical about such things, but has been reading eckhart tolle and used the oncoming pedestrians as a reminding factor to pay attention to his breath. aha! that's it! - he can hold his ground or yield, it doesn't make a jot of a difference because externally our moments might be identical, right? but internally, one might lead to heaven, one to hell.

i thought a knew a story but don't like the versions i find on-line, so here, i'll tell it as if ....
every day the monk woke early, prayed, sat in the deepest meditation, he would have dissolved into the ether if not for the bothersome whore aross the way. from the temple he could see visitors, big and slight, normal or horrible, coming at all hours. all hours! even her most elegant regalia was disgraceful, she wasn't even human, just an orifice! why didn't she just go somewhere else?

that was before the catastophe – the tsunimi swept them away and to their respective hereafters, but first, the pearly gates. they arrived together, the monk and the prostitute, and the prostitute was directed to the majestic golden threshhold of heaven, the monk to the glowering pit! "but why?" protested the monk? St. Peter: "all day long she admired you, all day long she reflected on your penitence, your vows, your service, your humility, your vocation, your dedication. but as for you, all you thought about was her sin and her cunt!
(relish it, it might be the only time i ever use the "c" word ... ever!) compare
"The devil can lead you to paradise, and God, directly to Hell."
or
Nasrudin sat on a river bank when someone shouted to him from the opposite side:

"Hey! how do I get to the other side?"

"You are on the other side!" Nasrudin shouted back.
or
"Shut your trap, you hopeless mongrel offshoot of the Hottentots! What an abortion you are, just like your teacher! Suppose it is true that the greatest physical force of the pigeon is concentrated in that big toe, then all the more, what we've got to do is to see that just that toe will be caught in the noose. Only then will there be any sense to our aim – that is to say, for catching these unfortunate pigeon creatures – in that brain-particularity proper to all possessors of that soft and slippery 'something' which consists in this, that when, thanks to other actions, from which its insignificant manifestability depends, there arises a periodic requisite law conformable what is called 'change of presence,' then this small so to say 'law conformable confusion' which should proceed for the animation of other acts in its general functioning, immediately enables the center of gravity of the whole functioning, in which this slippery 'something' plays a very small part, to pass temporarily from its usual place to another place, owing to which there often obtains in the whole of this general functioning, unexpected results ridiculous to the point of absurdity."
once gurdjieff departed from some of his people at the railway, and those who saw him off saw him in a different light, as though for once seeing him in a certain grandeur even. a reporter happened to be on that train and recognized a certain something which he figured was that he was of a high caste, a sultan perhaps, and insinuated himself in gurdjieff's company to talk, and later he wrote about the encounter, including that when the reporter alluded that political upheavals or wars must be difficult for someone of his position; gurdjieff dismissed the concerns about ups and downs and instead responded, "we always make a profit."

it seems an ideal would be to do anything and everything to wake up, to clean my apartment to wake up - the order would be incidental. but consider,what i read somewhere, that some unfortunate at the priure who, having failed to keep the pigs penned in, proffered that at least he remembered himself! "YOU IDIOT! berated, gurdjieff!" lateral octaves! or octaves of different levels and orders.

but also, incidentally, something i touch on here too is that different stories approximate similar points - that does not make them true! i saw the play doubt on broadway (with cherry jones), later turned into a movie (with meryl streep), where a priest is suspected by a nun of having inappropriate relations with someone in his charge, and the priest gives a sermon about gossip, including a story that some other blogger related as follows:
parishioner went up to the priest to unload his guilt about the act of gossiping ~ so what harm was done exactly, he asks … So the priest asked the parishioner to go back home … take a feather pillow & a knife with him up onto the roof of a high building.. Give it a slash and see what happens…

So, the parishioner did as he was told … he took a pillow & a knife … went up onto the roof & slashed it with all his might… Lo & behold… there were feathers & more feathers flying all over …. The parishioner then returned to the priest to report the act done. The priest proceeded to ask the parishioner to go back up & the roof … to RETRIEVE each and every feather that escaped from the pillow …
after the sermon the nun confronts the priest, "but is it true?!?" obviously the question is based on whether the gossip true - has the priest been sexing the boy up in any respect? but to my ears, and again, my preoccupation, even then, was the story true about the priest and the pillow, because can't a story be spun out of the ether to make any point whatsoever? do we have a standard for stories? because if we don't i'll go all Till Eulenspiegel on you and lose all my followers!

but that's where a moral compass of sorts comes in - absent the ability to believe, that is, faith, the values of the fourth way dictate that towards awakening is good, towards sleep is not good.

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