Maintenance

  

Our role in terms of maintenance is to act within the context of the electromagnetism, the gravity, and the chemistry of this planet.

It’s only through sensation of these forces first—before the psychology, the feeling, the intelligence of the intellect—that we can begin to participate more directly with a physical and organic understanding of our role.

The introduction to this idea comes in Ouspensky’s writing and the context of the chemical factory. This is the intellectual version of the story; the physical and feeling versions of the story emerge from the teachings that matured later in Gurdjieff’s career.

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In order to participate in maintenance, instead of asking what I can get out of the moment, I need to ask what I can offer it. 

Should I be in the moment for myself, or on behalf of others? 

I have the opportunity to be here on the half of the community and the planet. 

I have the opportunity to be here on behalf of my own responsibility.

I have the opportunity to be here in the moment on behalf of the dead.

In essence, I can try to be in the moment as little as possible on behalf of myself and as much as I can on behalf of others.

External considering is related to this question, and, indeed, to the question of maintenance in general.

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The Gurdjieff work can’t be appreciated or understood when viewed through the lens of an organization. It can only be appreciated and understood through one single point of view, and that is through the lens of Being.

To view it through the lens of an organization automatically attracts the idea of the organization “doing” something; and then, already, everything that the tool is is already misunderstood. The fluid is frozen in an ice cube tray; and everyone begins to argue about which ice cube is preferable.

If we come to this question of maintenance through the question of Being, rather than the question of whether or not the “Gurdjieff work” “knows” anything about what “ought to done out there”in the “real world” (and whether it should in fact “do” anything all) we come to the question of maintenance without any confirmation bias instilled by the Gurdjieff work—or, for that matter, any other religious or philosophical inclination. 

Then we must take responsibility; then we must see our duty. And here, indeed, the tools and language of the Gurdjieff work come into play, because Being-parktdolg-duty— a fundamental responsibility which, as we all know, indicates threefold duty, the duty of all our centers – lies at the foundation of the question of maintenance at this level.

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In this sense, there isn’t any point in attempting to identify or understand any contradictions between the Gurdjieff work as a “thing” (like Meister Eckhart’s cow, in his comment that people want to love God the way they love a cow) and the outer world. Even beginning to do so betrays a lack of understanding. The moment we turn the Gurdjieff work into a cow, we want to milk it; and then we’ll make cheese. Inevitably, we end up making a stinky cheese, because stinky cheese is more exciting. We spread it on toast, proclaiming its excellence to others; and we of course disagree on which kind of toast would be best.

But the cosmos requires more than cheese to maintain it.

In this sense, from the perspective of maintenance, we need to put more than cheese on the table. This means we must make an effort from within Being to discard the confirmation bias of the philosophy, the interminable interpretations, the prevarications, and the incantations, and view the question of maintenance from a context that includes everything at once. This will, of course, remind folks of Gurdjieff’s description of conscience to Ouspensky in “In Search of the Miraculous.” 

All of this depends on a state of conscience introduced by real feeling. But that is a revolution; and everything in us, even our intense perception of the Gurdjieff work, which is self-created, is designed to prevent a revolution.

Maintenance becomes an effort, then, closely centered around that perspective of self interest and the lack of it so simply presented in the well-known early essay, “The Meaning of Life.” The mythological pageantry of Beelzebub’s Tales to his Grandson put the terms of the transaction — because it is indeed a transaction between myself and life — into a beautiful costume; but the naked body beneath it forever turns on the question of selfish versus unselfish behavior, which is the selfsame axis upon which all of Swedenborg’s premises about heaven and hell are centered. 

The force that turns everything is, of course, love; again, simply put, because love is unselfish by its very nature.

In this sense, there can never be a contradiction between Being and maintenance if the matter were truly understood; and that understanding has to flow into us through being grounded in sensation and awakened to an opening of feeling. If our intelligence is poised between these two powerful forces in an active way, all the possibilities to maintain anything and everything are perpetually and directly in front of us.

In this sense, we act only on the smallest of scales; in each apparently tiny and momentary action of attention, the greatest maintenance is achieved. 

Reciprocally, the grand deeds we imagine and the influence we believe we are having on the outer world — which are always, as Tolstoy pointed out, delusional and insignificant —shrink to an appropriate scale of their own, one which reveals their insincerity.

Readers take note: there will be two extra posts this week, Tomorrow and Thursday, as commentaries leading up to Christmas.

These posts were written on Dec. 18 specifically for Christmas week.

Hurrah for using all three parts today. Be well.

Warmly,

Lee

Lee van Laer is a Senior Editor at Parabola Magazine.