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.

just kidding - 2 of 2

that story – transacting business in his sleep – is cute in its own right: business dealings in his sleep, recognizing the situation, and some sort of compromise accepting as real based on it's not being real, or something ...

but there's a few trains of ideas here.

first, i was was walking thinking thinking thinking and tried for a moment to attend to something other than thoughts: sensation or presence or self-remembering or centers ... and the thinking thinking thinking reclaims its ground. or does it?

does the “joke” convey something archtypal? at once there are multiple levels! the mullah had a glimpse of another level which perspective led him to return to that former level and on one hand take what he could but also to compromise … all sorts of possibilities, but related to the different realities – the different values – of different levels.

after my walk home and it seemed that my thinking is just too strong but then i read that mullah story – at face value a joke perhaps, but also exactly on point – one glimpse of my empty reality and i'm all too keen on returning to dreaming – perhaps it is not momentum, but a wilfull turning away, or rolling over to resume sleeping? or perhaps i am engaged in negotiation on an impossible level and have a have a moment of wakening, but finding nothing, return to what i have on a lower level.

there's a jokes and stories where someone farts or says something with a sexual innuendo, like those Till Eulenspiegel anecdotes, but what levels do those evoke?

gurdjieff invites us to compare:

It is not for nothing that our incomparable teacher, Mullah Nassr Eddin frequently says:

“Without greasing the palm, not only it is impossible to live tolerably anywhere but to breathe.”

And another terrestrial sage, named Till Eulenspiegel, who also based his wisdom on the crass stupidity of people, has expressed the same idea in the following words:

“If you don’t grease the wheels the cart won’t go.”

if you google eulenspiegel you’ll find the crassest stories – perhaps gems are hidden in shit, or perhaps it is truly a descending octave. (notwithstanding gurdjieff's saying outright when introducing the mullah in his first series,

Mullah Nassr Eddin, or as he is also called, Hodja Nassr Eddin, is, it seems, little known in Europe and America, but he is very well known in all countries of the continent of Asia; this legendary personage CORRESPONDS to the American Uncle Sam or the German Till Eulenspiegel. Numerous tales popular in the East, akin to the wise sayings, some of long standing and others newly arisen, were ascribed and are still ascribed to this Nassr Eddin.

however, the word CORRESPONDS indicates they serve a corresponding function but i'd hesitate to equate them, just as a handle to turn on water at a sink might CORRESPOND to a handle to flush a toilet - possibly. however, looking further, i see a quote from the 1931 version of B'sTs, indicating,:

Mullah Nassr Eddin or, as he is otherwise called, Hodja Nassr Eddin, is, it seems, little known in Europe and America. He is very well known, however, in all the countries of the continent Asia. This legendary personality IS LIKE the Russian 'Kusma Prutkov', the American 'Uncle Sam', or the English John Bull'. To this Mullah Nassr Eddin are ascribed numerous popular tales of the East, akin to sayings of the wisdom of daily life. They also now continue to ascribe to him various witticisms recalled from long ago as well as those newly made.

so perhaps IS LIKE indicates a greater correspondence than CORRESPONDS?)

further, consider, with regard to multiple levels within a story, and not least because i've dragged Till Eulenspiegl into this, consider:

"Thanks to this 'grammatical rule' of theirs, in any exchange of opinions the listener is first obliged to consider each proposition as if it were liable to happen, which arouses in him a certain 'being-diardookin' or, as they would say, a certain 'experiencing.' And only later the speaker, in conforming to their grammatical rule, finally pronounces their famous 'nicht,' with the result that there is produced in their common presence each time something that slowly but surely gives rise to the aforesaid specific character of their common psyche, and all this should help you to elucidate the original problem I have set you."

these are not mere musings. i attended lots of what are referred to as "celebrations" - celebrations of gurdjieff's birthday are often sombre, dry, dull - even dour. special too – don't get me in trouble for saying they are not! – but not particularly “celebratory.” granted people might find themselves in higher and more positive states, because negativity results from wrong functioning of centers, etc., and a more vivified, energetic state is more joyful. but at my meager level of being, it seems something is missing, and i wonder about joy's cousin, humor.

if laughter is an expression of a NO meeting a YES, perhaps we can identify their levels? are they the same or does one have to be higher? is there lateral humor as well as ascending and descending humor? do we start with a no or with a yes? and is the next yes or no higher or lower? and if those are 1-2-3 and 2-1-3 might one introduce 1-3-2 or 2-3-1 or even induce a humorous triad starting with 3? because that’s what i’m trying to do here!

(just kidding!)

reading through that thread it seems characteristic that nassr eddin stories either respond to a lower level out of values of the higher or vice-versa.

Otherwise, as they say, 'With what may the Devil not joke?'—they might hear about your insulting them and, to use another of their expressions, 'lay you by the heels.' There is no harm in recalling here another wise saying of our dear Mullah Nasr Eddin: 'What on earth will happen next? A flea might swallow an elephant!'

i wonder what the role of the court jester is - the fool - the one who can say anything and get away with it! recently, my mom related about some joke tellers who just tell jokes one after another which are not related to anything, as opposed to a joke that fits the situation. perhaps the riddle here is to be between two rivers, a simultaneity of experience, to cast one in relationship to the other.

Offered some food from the king's court, Bohlul put it in front of a dog. As the hungry animal began to eat with gusto, Bohlul turned to the courtiers: "Don't tell him it is from the king's banquet."

just kidding - 1

Mullah Nasruddin was dreaming that someone was paying him out gold pieces, counting out nine, but the Mullah insisted on a ten. While was arguing, he was awakened by a sudden noise in the street. Recognizing that that he had been dreaming, Mullah Nasruddin quickly closed his eyes, and, closing his hand said, "Very well, my friend, have it your way. Give me nine."

adapted to make sense from http://forums.penny-arcade.com/discussion/131886/seven-year-old-vinegar/p5 (no need to go there, i'm just giving credit where credit is due.) there's also:

"Thief, thief! Someone has stolen my camel!" cried Nasrudin.

Finally after the commotion was quietened someone observed, "But Nasrudin, you have no camel."

"Shhh..." said Nasrudin, "I am hoping the thief is unaware of this and the camel will be returned."

and ...

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.

at a certain point, hearing a new joke is unusual - it just doesn't happen. i'm surprised to find a few new ones in one shot. there's something about stories and jokes ... and about the role of the fool - maybe i'll wiseacre some - give me a few days, eh?