hollowfox38
MemberOP
15 messages
joined Feb 2005
I’d just add that there’s a window of opportunity for certain things, and you can’t just spend your whole life running around like a headless chicken... indefinitely.
Anyone who actually bothered to read what Gurdjieff had to say about this in the link I posted earlier probably caught the term “crossroads.” We’ve been drifting closer and closer to that “crossroad,” except we haven't quite hit the intersection yet.
The truth is, we don't really have a choice. Either we wake up, or the "wolves" are going to eat us alive—that's how it goes in this old parable down here:
Lost in a forest crawling with predators, driven by some vague, unsettling, and deep-seated intuition, an unsuspecting man wanders in search of a path. Eventually, exhausted from dodging countless dangers, he reaches the edge of the woods.
The view before him hits him with a weird mix of awe and dread. On the opposite hill, a magnificent castle stands, separated from him by the bed of a deep blue river. Behind the castle, a stunning valley stretches out, bathed in the dying light of the sunset. To his left, a dark red horizon warns that a storm is brewing.
Stunned, yet gripped by an overwhelming urge to reach that castle, the man instantly forgets his exhaustion and all the hell he just crawled through.
“How do I get there?” he asks himself.
Suddenly, a faint Voice echoes from somewhere deep within his heart. “This river can only be crossed by swimming,” the Voice says... “the current is strong and fast, and the water is ice cold.”
Despite everything, the man feels a sudden surge of new strength. He throws himself into the river and starts swimming. The cold is so paralyzing he can barely breathe, but through sheer force of will, he manages to fight through several powerful strokes to reach the other side, where he pulls himself onto the first step leading toward the castle. Above him stand three more granite steps, which look massive. They lead to a huge semicircular facade flanked by two towers. There, two closed doors serve as the entrance.
Suddenly, a deafening howl erupts behind him. He spins around to see a pack of wolves appearing on the clearing where he stood just moments ago. Darkness has nearly fallen, but their hungry, glinting eyes are still visible.
The man hears that Voice again: “All things considered, you didn't even risk much; if you had refused to swim, those wolves would have torn you apart right then and there.”
Terrified by how close he came to death, the man tries to figure out his next move. Just as he straightens up, the sky seems to crack open and a heavy downpour slams into him. The stone beneath him turns slick, making progress nearly impossible, though he eventually manages to stay on his feet. The storm slowly dies down. He is soaked to the bone, water dripping from his head and clothes onto the stone step where he stands.
“It doesn't matter much,” the Voice tells him, “you already made your move when you swam across the river anyway.”
Night has fully set in, and a thin crescent moon appears to his right, where the sun had already vanished.
“A good sign,” he hears from deep within his being.
The man lets out a laugh. He’s already stepped onto the third stair. His hands and legs are pretty banged up, and just as he manages to stand tall, a brutal blast of polar wind hits him, nearly knocking him backward. But he grips the ground tight, grabbing onto the wall that forms part of the fourth step, finding a small crevice that offers some shelter from the storm.
“That’s not all,” the Voice says, “don't waste time hiding there; that step could crumble at any second, and then the earth will swallow you whole.”
All that resistance against the storm didn't actually wear the man down; if anything, it felt like his strength had doubled, allowing him to climb to the top of the fourth step without any trouble at all.
The second he scrambled back to his feet, a single trumpet blast tore through the air, sounding a frantic alarm. A sudden, scorching wind slammed into his face, and by the time he managed to squint through the grit, there was this shimmering figure standing in the darkness right in front of him. It was the Guardian, the castle’s sentry, clad in armor that caught what little light there was, gripping a drawn sword in his right hand with the tip pointed straight at the newcomer.
"Who are you, traveler?" he demanded. "Why have you braved all these obstacles, and in whose name did you climb the steps to paradise?"
Overwhelmed by this sudden, massive rush of luck, the man slowly echoed the truths coming from deep within his soul. It felt like those words had become his own reality, and he met the Guardian's gaze with total conviction:
"I am a Soul searching for divine bliss; a mere fragment seeking union with the Creator Principle!"
"Your answer is correct," the Guardian replied. The tower doors to the right swung open. He sheathed his blade, took the man by the hand, and led him across the threshold...
----
And there we go again—everyone is ultimately on their own. Saviors only exist in sci-fi movies and holy books (which, if you think about it, are pretty much the same thing).
Later!
