A wholeness of being

 Gurdjieff frequently discussed how important it is to have a single “I.”

 I would suggest a different phrase. 

What I seek in myself is what I’d call a Wholeness of Being.

 I bring this up with a sense of irony about using the word “I” at all; whether to refer to my own opinions and ideas on the subject (and, of course, my own direct experience) or to refer to the specific question of ego and individuality.

 I’ve been working, as it happens, on a series of writings about the “wave of Being;” and in doing so, I was required to discuss the question of identity and what it consists of with my friend Paul. Paul has an incisive mind on these matters, so one cannot discuss things of this nature lightly with him; and the considerations provoked a range of questions about what identity is, where it comes from, and what it means.

 Those questions are far from resolved. Yet all of them center around intellectual analysis, and what I am interested in this morning is a wholeness of being that arises organically. This wholeness of being is directly related to what I call the molecular sense of being; yet the molecular sense of Being alone is not enough to truly understand Being as it exists as an entity. 

 There are a lot of lofty ways to approach this — we are all part of one great whole, everything is sacred, and so on. It’s all too easy to speak mostly true words like this, and even more so to indulge in sincere but mostly sentimental relationships with the ideas they present. Most of New Age philosophy and a great deal of “feel – happy” spiritual practice — which has been adopted by many formerly serious institutions such as Buddhism and Christianity — relies on the ease of these ideas, how easy they are to market and sell, how easy it is to send important when saying them, how easy it is to sign on because they're saying warm fuzzy things we like to hear.

 All of that's fine, but the organic sense of being and wholeness of being are grounded in a fundamentally different approach to life, which involves identity as a three-centered action within the inner state of a man or woman. I sometimes call this the Reconstruction of the Soul — and I capitalize that simply because a forthcoming book of mine discusses this at great length in the context of medieval art history. 

Yet philosophy, new age pondering, and medieval art history do not do the subject justice, because it isn't a philosophy.  It's an inner action that must take place within me now.

 This action reminds me quite clearly and precisely, down to the very marrow of my bones, right in this instant, that I don’t know who I am or where I am. I don’t know what will come next. This is a conscious and sensational (grounded in sensation) action that provokes a feeling of remorse and sorrow which must be pondered using the intellectual presence I bring to bear on the moment. 

These three factors combined within me to leave me with a sense of immediate mystery — not cosmological mystery related to how vast everything is and how tiny I am, and so on, but an existential mystery related to the act of existence right in this moment, as it is.

 While this action is measured through individuality, it cannot be completed through it. The word individuality itself carries contradictions, because on the one hand it means “undivided,” and on the other hand it means, more or less, “separated from others.” The ironies here are implicit, because in the first place, I am myself divided into many parts, no matter how we add things up and no matter how whole my being is, and in the second place, I am not separate from others — I cannot exist without the community that I inhabit. My ego just causes me to think I am.

 If the irony is not just implicit, but also explicit — as the above makes apparent — how do I resolve that?

 This wholeness of Being skirts the question of ego, individuality, and even the word “I” itself. It reminds me of the prayer I've been working on for many years:  There is no “I”, there is only truth. The way to the truth is through the heart.  

No one can claim to penetrate the truth of this prayer in its entirety; and indeed, I am not even close. Yet I remind myself of it every morning. 

I live within an existence that is composed essentially, without compromise, of truth. 

As I've said lately to many friends in regard to this matter, “ life arises naturally.” We need only show up and be there for it; if we inhabit the natural arising of life, gently and responsibly, with some attention and love, we can naturally fulfill our being responsibilities without tension. Of course this is an idealized version of it; we are reactive creatures, no matter what we do, and we'll have to deal with that as well. Yet this wholeness of Being, this molecular sensation and a sober emotional attitude — characterized by remorse of conscience and an intention to suffer on behalf not only of myself, but more especially of others — is a fundamental place from which life can be inhabited.

 While I respect the long-standing tradition of Gurdjieff’s prayer, “I wish to be,” I find it limiting. It weirdly sounds like Being is all about me; and nothing could really be further from the truth.  

It has a grain of truth in it, to be sure, but it is not enough to just wish to be for myself.

Warmly,

Lee

Lee van Laer is a Senior Editor at Parabola Magazine.