I Too Am Food

I too, am food

I too, am food. That thought hit me hard while sitting on my deck in front of a wooden bowl. It was filled with fresh greens, sliced scallions, avocado wedges, Greek olives, roasted red pepper slices, pistachios, and bits of smoked salmon. I had just visualized each of these as vibrant life forms hanging from … Read more

Recap

Recap - waking from the dream

Let’s recap the last couple of blogs: I had the unsettling experience of being in a dream state while awake. What scared me, was the thought that my inner work is being done in a dream state. That I might not “wake up” until the moment of my death. Would I then die as Gurdjieff … Read more

Digging Deeper

Digging deeper into ourselves in the garden

Digging deeper in myself has brought a new dimension to digging in my garden. Several years ago, I began recognizing the fact that no matter how much attention I paid to body mechanics, I invariably threw my back out from digging. Eventually, I turned my vegetable beds into wild-flower gardens to avoid injuring myself. This … Read more

Aim

Taking Aim

I’ve been thinking about what my aim is and it’s left me full of questions and doubts. Have I been fooling myself all these years with an aim that belonged to Gurdjieff, but not necessarily to me? Do I even have an aim? Carrying the question makes me wonder if I’m afraid to look at … Read more

Patterns

Seeing Patterns

A struggle with my own patterns and those of Gurdjieff’s Dances epitomized my work during the recent ten-day International Movements Retreat at Claymont. My aim entering the retreat  was to allow my body to learn the movements and to minimize thinking. However, there came a point, several days in, when I realized my head needed … Read more

Journal Entries—Sherborne Memoir

Journal Entries, getting the goose out of the bottle

The following journal entries are part of my memoir, Real People, about the inner journey of discovery I went on during J.G. Bennett’s Second Basic Course at Sherborne House when I was in my early 20s. Journal Entry December 2, 1972— Something in me is percolating. Like air bubbling up through the muck of a … Read more