The Sphinx

Occasionally I continue a series of posts for friends in the Gurdjieff groups and other traditions. Bystanders can listen in, or surf back to play-by-plays of the psychotic world (always just a convenient mouseclick away).

Over the years I made little bits of notes on Work experiences, remarks from teachers, questions and reflections. Lately I've dug up old notebooks, slips of paper containing spidery scribblings from early days. What good they do lying around in a desk drawer may be a few atoms less than bringing them into light of an obscure blog like this one. If anything helps you, that is at least a few atoms real.

Mrs. March -- Sitting 1/1/83

The idea of the Sphinx as a symbol which I take into myself. The Bull representing constant force and application. . . Wings are for me in having always the concern or vision of non-ordinaryness, the higher possibilities. How to get Work from just in my head -- into the blood, into the fibre. The Sphinx is a measure of myself.

In Beelzebub's Tales, the Sphinx is described as "an allegorical being, each part of whose planetary body was composed of a part of the planetary body of some definite form of being existing there. . .who, according to the crystallized notions of the three-brained beings there, had to perfection one or another being-function."

Those parts included: trunk of a Bull; legs of a Lion; wings of an Eagle; breasts of a Virgin. Strength, courage, vision, impartial love. And in totality (within the society Akhaldan for which this sphinx was an emblem), it was known as Conscience.

A Generous Man

With so much false information on the internet about Gurdjieff, accounts from people who were close to him are good medicine. From T Tchekovitch: *

"Since I was often with him at different times of the day, I saw in an intimate way aspects of his life that most of his pupils, who only attended the evening groups, never knew about.

"Mr. Gurdjieff often did his own shopping when he took his morning stroll. As soon as he returned, he started working in the kitchen. During this time, he would not receive any of his pupils, and the door opening onto the main staircase remained closed.

"It was quite another story, however, at the back staircase. One had to see it to believe it: from the bottom of the stairs to the top, there was a long procession of beggars, parasites, and the like. One had his bowl, another his tin plate, still another an old pot, all coming solemnly to receive a full ration of soup accompanied by some kind words. Mr Gurdjieff himself served from enormous cooking pots while asking after the health of everyone, not forgetting those who could not come because of illness. When he found that someone was sick, he would say, “Well, now let’s give him something special!” and, according to the latest information he received about him, he would fill the container with some dish or other that he had prepared.

"Here was an old woman who came for herself and also for her husband, who could no longer walk; there, an undernourished and sick man who said he was unable to work; then children from a large poverty-stricken family; and the concierge from a neighbouring building, who had looked after a bedridden tenant on the seventh floor for a long time. . .

"The scene was repeated every morning, the procession usually ending about one o’clock, sometimes only to start again in the evening. Mr Gurdjieff also prepared enormous quantities of food to share with his pupils and others, who regularly frequented his apartment. His table was a veritable cornucopia, for no day passed without parcels of food arriving from all over the world; the south of France, Spain, Turkey, Australia, the Americas, and even Africa. Yet, if there was no one to eat with, he would often choose not to eat at all."

* Gurdjieff: A Master in Life; Tcheslaw Tchekovitch