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Monday, November 12, 2007
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- Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Monday, November 12, 2007difficulty Over the past week, I have been struggling on multiple fronts, between recovery from jet lag, recovery from the debilitating virus I brought back with me, and the re-entry into daily life here, ...as opposed to the way it proceeds on trips.
All of the rhythms are different. Add a change in seasons and the conversion to daylight savings time--it's a lot to heap up on one body all at one time. Two things strike me quite distinctly in regard to this question. One is that there is a tremendous resistance in me to actually taking in the ordinary impressions of life. The resistance is so absolutely habitual -- it has solidified into a substance that forms a barrier between me and life -- that I don't even notice that most of the time. It's only now, when my body is weaker and I am struggling with the impressions of life in general, that I see more clearly how little I actually let in. It's like communicating through a thick layer of sludge. Being in relationship with my impressions costs me part of my being. There is material in me that actively resists paying that price. In moments like this, when there is less coin to lay on the table in the first place, the reluctance becomes more obvious. The second thing that strikes me is just how difficult it is to inhabit a body. We do this, too, habitually and reflexively, and take it so much for granted that only pain and weariness themselves may cause us to see how routinely difficult the act of being alive is. With a greater sense of connection to the body, the extraordinary effort that is required just to stay in this body and experience through it becomes more apparent. Everything is difficult. Even breathing in and out is a lot of work, if I am aware of it. Contradictory impulses arrives at moments like this, because at the same time I struggle to stay alive -- as we all do -- I see there is something that might be comfortable with just letting go. I am, after all, essentially lazy, and being here in this body is a lot of work. That's what it is -- work. Part of me just doesn't want to deal with it. And on yet another level, today, I receive constant reminders. There is support that arrives from places unknown. Where does the support come from? This is perhaps what Dogen called "...merit achieved without doing, and ...merit achieved without becoming." (Shobogenzo, Nishijima and Cross translation, book 3, p.218.) The subtle, glorious tendrils of support that grown within the body reaffirm it: we are already valuable. So today I attempt to accept the condition of struggle, of difficulty. It, too, is part of what is necessary. May your trees bear fruit, and your wells yield water. Tuesday, November 13, 2007The sixth division of the society of Akhldanns I promised some time ago to get back to this subject, and finally the time is at hand.
In "Beelzebub's Tales to his Grandson," Gurdjieff describes the sixth division of the Society of Akhldanns as follows: "The members belonging to the sixth section were called 'Akhldann-mistessovors,' that is to say, beings who studied all kinds of outer events, whether actualized consciously or arising by themselves, and further studied which of these events were erroneously perceived by beings, and in what circumstances." In correlating the inner energy centers to the sixth position on the enneagram and in the multiplications, this division of the society represents what is called the "third eye." A loaded subject, to be sure. There's a lot out there about the third eye. All kinds of magical powers are ascribed to it. We see it repeated slapdash in contemporary metaphysical imagery, literalized and trivialized to the point where it becomes almost meaningless. Cutting through all the crap, we have two perfectly good eyes that can discern the outside world already. The implication is that the third eye has to have a different kind of perceptual ability. Of course, there are those that feel this ability is psychic (whatever exactly that is supposed to mean.) However, in the allegory presented in Gurdjieff's society of Akhldanns, this eye has a more prosaic ability -- the ability of discrimination. Discrimination is not a visual ability, which is why all those very literal pictures of dudes with eyeballs in their foreheads bother me. A mouth might actually be a more appropriate image to place there, because if and when the "third eye" does take anything in directly--a very, very rare event indeed, for most people--, it swallows it. If you think about it, you may agree that discrimination requires not just an intellectual understanding, but also an emotional one. I would personally argue that the center of gravity in the act of discrimination is emotional- an intuitive, tactile quality is needed in order to discriminate. Trying to base discrimination on facts alone is not enough. And it makes perfect sense to me that this quality of an ability to discriminate would arise from one of the six sensory flowers that comprise the inner emotional structure. The ability to discriminate was highly valued by Gurdjieff. He asked his students to study subjects such as hypnotism and occultism so that they could tell the difference between the charlatans and real religious discipline. All through his work runs a thread of concern about the delusional nature of people's ordinary way of seeing things. We run into the same question in Dogen's Shobogenzo. He often speaks of the mistaken views of non-Buddhists, people who are not on the path. In chapter 69 (Nishijima and Cross translation, book 3) he discusses the question of the Eye of the Buddhist patriarchs as follows: "Thus, in the orders of Buddhist patriarchs, many have pursued the truth by taking up the mind of grass and trees. This is a characteristic of establishment of the Bodhi-mind. The fifth patriarch at one time was a being who practiced the way by planting pines. Rinzai experience to the effort of planting cedars and pines on Obaku-zan mountain. There was the old man Ryu who planted pine trees on Tozan mountain. By taking on the constancy of pines and oaks, they scooped out the eye of the Buddhist patriarchs. This was real manifestation of the identity of power in playing with the lively Eye and clarification of the Eye. To build stupas, to build Buddhas, and so on are to play with the Eye, are to taste the establishment of the mind, and are to use the establishment of the mind. Without getting the eye of building stupas and so on, there is no realization of the Buddhist patriarch's truth. After getting the Eye of building Buddhas, we become Buddhas and become patriarchs." So for Dogen, the use of the third eye has to do with the establishment of the mind. For me, this also implies acquiring the quality of discrimination. His reference to grass and trees mirrors forming a connection between levels, between the upper and lower stories (142 and 857), as well as the inherently organic nature of this work. The stability (constancy) created by the action of "planting trees"--becoming more rooted in an inner sense-- is what brings them into relationship with this particular flower. Speaking strictly from my own experience, I would agree that the energy center referred to as the third eye has a special quality. However, this quality is no more "special" than the special qualities of the other five inner flowers. That is to say, each one of them has a special quality, and all of them are needed in conjunction in order to form a whole. Specialized forms of meditation that concentrate strictly on this location may produce results of one kind or another. Unless they understand the relationship between this energy center and the other five flowers, however, they run the risk of imbalancing and overwhelming the system. May your trees bear fruit, and your wells yield water. Download 1.48 Mb. Share with your friends:
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