Im sitting on the steps of a friends house on a day no different than
the rest and, after having taken a healthy (or should I say dangerous) dose of a forbidden
substance , the mechanical nature of my life and the emptiness behind the phenomenal world
began to appear before me. From the drama which unraveled before my very eyes (all
whacked-out in la-la land), I could see how I had been living the life of a robot: always
following orders, people telling me where to go and what to do, the clock setting my pace.
When I awake, when I sleep, when I shower, when I eat and when I shit, how I look, how I
walk, how I talk, how I live, and even how I
dont live all controlled by
a gigantic robot, a machine a monster. A monster that has consumed my life and my
freedom, whose influence has transformed me (ever since I was a little kid) into another
one of its robots.
I thought, "Boy, its a mess! (my life that is) What am I going to do now? I
have to call Ricardo (my brother) and ask him to hypnotize me or something." Lame, I
know, but for some strange and unexplainable reason I believed at the time that hypnosis
was actually good for something.
Of course, at that time, I didnt know anything about Gurdjieff, I had never read
anything about Gurdjieff, and I had never heard about Gurdjieff in any way, shape or form.
In fact, at that time, I would have never spent even one second listening to anybody
talking about no guy named Gurdjieff. I would just not be interested one bit in Gurdjieff.
Lucky me, Ricardo had plans other than hypnotizing me. He showed me how to sit down and
how to look at my self, at where I was.
Next thing I knew, I was flying high with Gurdjieff! "Lets go in search of
the Maracas, my boy!" he screamed excitedly.
In a cabin flowing through an ocean filled with whales, dinosaurs, dragons and all
sorts of other ordinary and mystical creatures in the river of life! It was a trip
like no other and one for which I cannot find words to describe where I saw the
beginning of life my origin. It was the melting pot of all souls, where they merge
into one just before they are ripped into billions and trillions of pieces, which are
molded into biological bodies, again and again
Next I found myself strapped to an examination table inside of a space ship. There, as
electrical charges where being inflicted on me through my temples and as metallic probes
and tools (much like a dentists tools) explored every inch of my body (inside and
out), I suddenly felt his presence it was Gurdjieff, the old man. He sat next to me
and showed me some secrets that have to do with sound
Then I sat in my blue Toyota, parked in a vista point off of Hwy-280, under the cloudy,
dark sky of that cold night. Through the clouds up above I saw a white sparkle of light
dancing and wobbling from side to side, as fluidly as a fly in the air (if not better). I
thought: "Thats no star (although it did look just like a star in the sky),
thats no airplane (although it did look like a far away plane, they just dont
move like that) and thats no comet either!" My full, undivided attention went
to that magnificent white light up in the sky
One of my last stops was at the edge of a mountain, where I begged for the miraculous.
I begged for a way out of the ordinary world, for a place where theres life. I asked
to be made useful for something bigger than myself
Now I live and work in San Francisco (the City!), where I write news articles, attend
meetings and workshops, touch rocks and read for the dead
People find it hard to believe that I, after working with a group that works with a
school, that hosts a living teacher of the fourth way, for about two years, still
havent read any books about Gurdjieff. They seem to be confused and surprised when I
dont seem to know much about him or what he did or said.
"So," I says to him, "Mr. Gurdjieff, did you ever find those Maracas you
where searching for or what?"
With a hard, serious look he said to me: "Spanky, Ive already told you: If
you expect to even pretend to work with me, you have to read the books in the right order;
there is a sequence to them, you know."
youre, right, of course Mr. Gurdjieff. I will, I
promise," I lied.
"And also," Gurdjieff added, "your so called hard work is
shit! You think you work hard? You think you work at all? Bah!"
So I still wonder: who is this Gurdjieff person, and why is he in search of the
maracas, any ways?