Well, perhaps it’s a trick question, but I don’t think so…has anyone actually read (all the way through) Gurdjieff’s Beezelbub’s Tales to His Grandson? I have to admit it – I am a voracious reader that has plowed through a great number of difficult books – but I find myself unable to make through more than the first 100 pages or so without losing momentum. I know he uses patterned language and specific words/phrases to disrupt conventional/run-of-the-mill thinking, but still … and the book is in paperback about 3-1/2″ inches thick. It seems so daunting, and I appreciate what I can get through, and it is extremely intriguing and fascinating reading…but like I said, only about 100 pages and I’m exhausted.
Anyone else have the same experience? If you have read it all the way through, howja do it? Any helpful suggestions would be greatly appreciated. I must say, it’s a damn good thing I don’t HAVE to read it for some college course or something. I’d be up the creek.
I cannot imagine too much more of this:
in dreams, in waking moments in between
the breaths and along-side the twelve steps
and the five stages of anger, denial, bargaining,
the flipped coin depression or acceptance.
None of the sons were to be found,
but did the holy ghost’s wry banter
when you found the father dead
among the roses and the avocados,
looking like he’d Rip Van Winkled to the land of nod,
knowing that at best, the east side
of Eden (because it had better schools)
would have been his preference anyway;
and that after sixty years or so of constant
on the go and in your face, the vitriolic rage for life would
and in the silence, you could breathe,
take in your own dreams with the quiet air,
surround yourself with life support
that didn’t offer side effects?
And all the comparisons, the undercuts,
the constant stream of in your shadow
footsteps could just
and wave goodbye, Dad.
It’s been ten years now; my sister still
gets crazy this time of year.
We’ve got our own lives now, grown up
and tired of being yelled at,
even if the voice we hear is not
really there. Please
and wave goodbye.
Was on the third of September
That date I’ll always remember, yes I will
‘Cause that was the day that my daddy died.
— “Papa Was a Rolling Stone,” The Temptations
It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society. — Krishnamurti
08 DEC 2002
Oh my dear friend, would you like to know why genius so rarely breaks its bonds, why it so seldom bursts upon us like a raging torrent to shatter our astounded souls? My friend, it is because of the sober gentlemen who reside on either side of the river, whose precious little summerhomes, tulip beds, and vegetable gardens would be ruined by it, and who know so well how to build dams and divert all such threatening danger in good time. — Johann Goethe, The Sorrows of Young Werther