I experienced a moment of compassion this morning with a friend. It happened as we were practicing one of Gurdjieff’s movements called the Great Prayer. This movement never ceases to reveal something to me in the practicing of it.
There’s a lot of kneeling in this movement. Neither one of us is young, and she commented before we began that kneeling and rising were getting harder since her recent bout with COVID.
But down on our knees we went, preparing inwardly for several minutes before starting the music. A good deal of time is spent at the beginning of the movement on the floor with head bowed and arms crossed. At last, our heads came up as our arms unfolded and we saw each other.
We have always practiced across from each other, it just turned out that way. I’ve never known quite what to do with my eyes, and it’s taken me a long time to be able to look directly at hers.
This morning something happened in that first moment of bringing our heads up and looking across.
My feelings had been touched by her comment about kneeling and I was sorry that she had to experience pain in order to work at this movement which we both value so much.
Universal Compassion
But more than that, I found myself looking into her eyes with the empathy I was feeling. What shone back from her was empathy for me because of my daughter-in-law’s illness. What came to me, was that this empathy, this compassion, was bigger than that. Bigger than feeling bad about another’s specific pain.
The exchange between us felt linked to a universal sorrow that is rarely recognized. It seems that as a species, we humans are unable to accept the reality of death. It is too big, too scary, to overwhelming, too sad. Yet Gurdjieff was able to hold the reality of that sorrow. For a moment, I was too. And within that compassion, I touched my friend’s humanity from my own, and she touched mine.
