Eating the I: An Account of the Fourth Way--The Way of Transformation in Ordinary Life (In Search of the Self)

Rating:
Summary: spiritual power or fantasia?
Review: Read this and make up your own mind:

The Movements teacher Paul Reynard's wife, Jose, a slender,
sensitive woman, rather shy and diffident, had a wonderful inner
silence and strength. She took in everything, but said little. I
had worked with her shelling peas one day in the kitchen at
Armonk. She knew a great deal about the body and how to do manual
work without tension. She had never attended the painting class
however, and so I was surprised when she greeted me at the door.

"Welcome," she said in a demure French accent, "...to the Theatre
of Power."

I smiled and shoved my suitcase in a corner, took off my tie and
jacket and put on a smock. Reynard said the day's exercise was to
paint a picture with a partner. Each person was to make only one
stroke at a time. Jose chose me as her partner. She motioned me
to an easel holding a large poster-size sheet of paper. "Our
theatre," she said.

Everyone else got quickly to work. We stood side by side in front
of the empty sheet. It was corny, but that was how my life
suddenly seemed a big blank void.

"You first," she whispered.

"Oh, no. You be first," I said. "But you... you are the man."

"But isn't it true," I whispered, "that we are both masculine and
feminine?"

Her mouth pursed. She smiled and looked at the floor. It was more
of an answer perhaps than she had expected. I was taking chances.
I felt a kind of danger. But a delicious danger.

"Okay," I whispered. "I'll be first.', I mixed some sap green
with white and put my brush to the paper as if to make a large
sweeping line--but I made only a dab in the right hand comer. It
was not what she had expected.

"So small," she murmured. "Delicate."

I could feel the energy releasing inside; a surprise and warmth.
I had taken the "feminine" part. Would she play the man ... ?

Jose chooses a brush and mixes a bit of white with Prussian
Blue. She goes to the easel and, without hesitation, makes a
thicker mark. It's just a hair larger than mine but ­at the
opposite corner of the paper. My body vibrates. She has accepted
the wordless invitation and we both now step together into the
"Theatre of Power." Thus begins our silent dance, each movement,
each gesture and look, each stroke of the brush, taking us deeper
and deeper into the inaccessible.

I let the feminine in me paint. As we move along, I notice her
strokes become bolder and bolder. She realizes I meant her to
lead the way, to take the reins of the horse. My strokes are only
accents, or counterpoints, to hers. The change from rigid gender
pattern delights us both and we glow with energy.

After a time, out of the tangle of lines and markings, the mixing
of our energies, we both sense an image on the paper waiting to
be born. Saying nothing, not looking at one, another, our eyes
only on the creation before us - we begin to bring it forth, to
strengthen or weaken the notes of the image's energy and form.
Behind us I suddenly sense another energy.

I turned. Reynad struck his head between us to see what we were
up to.

A former student of Leger, he took in the painting, then cleared
his throat, and moved on. He said nothing. He didn't have to. The
incredible silence and feeling were gone. We tried to light the
flame again, but such flames aren't lit by effort. We could never
step back into the image. It remained outside us, an object. The
class soon ended. Jose and I smiled at one another knowingly. She
had in fact introduced me to The Theatre of Power. The question
was - what was the name of this play I was in?

From page 298, Eating the "I"





Rating:
Summary: Eating The "I"
Review: Reading Eating The "I" has touched a deep cord in me. I have read other books by people involved with the Gurdjieff Work but they all seemed a little sterile-some too intellectual, some whining, some awestruck by the presence of Gurdjieff. Most repeating the same ideas but for me there was something lacking. What that was I didn't know. I found out after reading Eating The "I". Mr. Patterson's writing is experienced as real and truthful, a living practice of the principles of the Gurdjieff Work. He candidly speaks of his journey and the struggle that that entails without putting on a "good" or "spiritual" face which, in my opinion, is quite rare. He clearly spells out his motives in the prologue acknowledging what and how he is approaching the subject. The reader is taken on a journey with a sincere and serious student of the Fourth Way. The people he meets are fascinating on a number of levels-most importantly as to what they help him to see about himself. For anyone who is interested in the possibility of real transformation in life, I highly recommend this book.

Rating:
Summary: Strange taste remains.....
Review: This book leaves a strange taste. The author tries very hard to come across as honest and hard working on himself. I first read this book about 9 years ago, and found it interesting, but this strange taste remained. After reading 'ladies of the rope' and 'struggle of the magicians' a similar taste resonated. Something smelled fishy. Having met and worked with some of the men and women Patterson mentions in his books, I researched and made some careful cross references. My suspision, that this honesty, which he tries so hard to show us, must hide something, was confirmed. He is very clever in re-arranging 'truth' for his own liking. So beware, this man struggles quite strongly against trickster teachers, but is he in danger of being one himself?