What is the role of the thinking mind in work?

 A question was recently asked about what the role of thinking has in one’s inner work.

There are many answers to this question; and the most profound of them touch on metaphysical matters which cannot be so easily expressed in words.

Nonetheless, in the specific question of the inner work itself, the effort to know oneself and to be, a distillation of the understanding of what thinking does, combined with an examination of the question of remorse of conscience conducted at depth — and over a long period of time — a rather specific answer emerges.

The role of thinking is to go against selfishness.

I will explain this in more detail now.

First we need to ask ourselves what thinking does. How does it function, what is its modus operandi?

In terms of function, we'll take the definition of using one’s mind actively to form connected ideas. It's a way of ordering impressions and bringing them into sound relationship with one another. Impressions begin objectively; and to the extent that thinking treats them so, it also remains objective. The moment that it's tainted with self interest, it becomes impure and no longer accurately reflects the original order that is inherent in what it perceives and orders.

In classical thinking, as well as medieval Christian thinking (which was perhaps the last great moment of legitimate religious thought in Western culture) what takes place outside of man comes from an order which is divine, that is, of God. Put in alternate Platonic terms, it is from a higher order than the one we inhabit. So in idealized thought, which was certainly the apotheosis of the Socratic and Platonic Schools, rightly ordered thought and the sound relationship that it establishes and propagates is objective — it is based on the objective external facts, not the subjective internal interpretations which, in the Socratic dialogues, consistently turn out to be faulty in one way or another. 

Our self interest inevitably compromises this ordering process; and so thinking, if it wishes to fulfill its rightful duty in the objective ordering of things — a point which, on the whole, the entire book Beelzebub’s Tales to his Grandson was written about — must overcome the subjective, the selfish. In this sense right use of thought serves primarily to go against selfishness and the wishes and desires of the self, which are almost inevitably childish in their undeveloped nature.

Remorse of conscience now enters the picture. Remorse of conscience is a thought process whereby the careful and more objective examination of one’s behavior, actions, and (most especially) the treatment of others is turned to the purpose of awakening a feeling of remorse, which alone may stimulate our entire Being, including the thought process, to a more objective and contrite vision of one’s life. 

If thinking doesn’t serve this purpose first and before everything else, life remains unexamined. An unexamined life is issued to oneself in order to bestow the express permission to be selfish and do anything one wants; and this is exactly the problem with it. It engages in inner considering only, and never in outer considering. So thinking, in its right form, is not just there to serve a function of going against selfishness: it is there to place a demand in oneself to outwardly consider, but to never inwardly consider.

This particular group of insights is helpful in examining Gurdjieff’s contention that the thinking center is a “policeman.” The policeman, aside from exercising vigilance, is there to make sure that laws are obeyed and that order isn’t violated. 

By primary implication, this means that it is in our basic nature to disobey law and to violate order. Our thinking is what stands between us and those violations. If we want to understand what the violations are, that’s a somewhat different question; then we have to devote ourselves to studying the laws of world creation and world maintenance, because we both create and maintain our inner world, and we need to understand what laws they fall under: our own subjective laws, or laws that relate to the unselfish service required in order to be a member of the society.

The policeman is our thought; and my thought must be quite clear about where it is and what it's doing. It can’t constantly fall under the influence of its own opinions; it needs to be constantly questioning itself in order to function well. It should never, in a certain sense, assume it is correct about anything; and it should be very clear about putting its foot down in every instance of selfishness, both identifying it and steering action away from the selfish choice. This is, in essence, what Gurdjieff means by “conscious egoism.” Egoism is a conscious sense of self in these terms; and the self that is conscious, aware of how tiny it is and how vital it is that it come into right relationship with both the world and other people, never engages in selfish behavior. This is, of course, an impossibly high standard which protagonist Beelzebub nonetheless, according to his own accounts, meets during the entire course of his tales.

This explanation, of course, may seem too simplistic; yet it’s basic enough to understand the role of thinking in a straightforward way, uncontaminated by convoluted logic or metaphysical permutations. 

It’s all about using the mind to remember not to be selfish, 

right here, 

right now.

Be well today.

Warmly,

Lee

Lee van Laer is a Senior Editor at Parabola Magazine.