"Gurdjieff, G I - Beelzebubs Tales To His Grandson" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gurdjieff G I)

your uncle and mother, the totality of which data, always and in everything, at least engenders in you the
impulse—nevertheless extremely good—of curiosity, as in the given case, to find out as quickly as
possible why I, that is to say, a novice at writing, whose name has not even once been mentioned in the
newspapers, have suddenly become so unique.
Never mind! I personally am very pleased with the arising of this curiosity even though only in your
"false" consciousness, as I already know from experience that this impulse unworthy of man can
sometimes even pass from this consciousness into one's nature and become a worthy impulse—the
impulse of the desire for knowledge, which, in its turn, assists the better perception and even the closer
understanding of the essence of any object on which, as it sometimes happens, the attention of a
contemporary man might be concentrated, and therefore I am even willing, with pleasure, to satisfy this
curiosity which has arisen in you at the present moment.
Now listen and try to justify, and not to disappoint, my expectations. This original personality of mine,
already "smelled out" by certain definite individuals from both choirs of the Judgement Seat Above,
whence Objective justice proceeds, and also here on Earth, by as yet a very limited number of people, is
based, as I already said, on three secondary specific data formed in me at different times during my
preparatory age. The first of these data, from the very beginning of its arising, became as it were the chief
directing lever of my entire wholeness, and the other two, the "vivifying-sources", as it were, for the
feeding and perfecting of this first datum.
The arising of this first datum proceeded when I was still only, as is said, a "chubby mite." My dear now
deceased grandmother was then still living and was a hundred and some years old.
When my grandmother—may she attain the kingdom of Heaven—was dying, my mother, as was then the
custom, took me to her bedside, and as I kissed her right hand, my dear now deceased grandmother
placed her dying left hand on my head and in a whisper, yet very distinctly, said:
"Eldest of my grandsons! Listen and always remember my strict injunction to you: In life never do as
others do."
Having said this, she gazed at the bridge of my nose and evidently noticing my perplexity and my
obscure understanding of what she had said, added somewhat angrily and imposingly:
"Either do nothing—just go to school—or do something nobody else does."
Whereupon she immediately, without hesitation, and with a perceptible impulse of disdain for all around
her, and with commendable self-cognizance, gave up her soul directly into the hands of His Truthfulness,
the Archangel Gabriel.
I think it will be interesting and even instructive to you to know that all this made so powerful an
impression on me at that time that I suddenly became unable to endure anyone around me, and therefore,
as soon as we left the room where the mortal "planetary body" of the cause of the cause of my arising
lay, I very quietly, trying not to attract attention, stole away to the bin where during Lent the bran and
potato skins for our "sanitarians", that is to say, our pigs, were stored, and lay there, without food or
drink, in a tempest of whirling and confused thoughts—of which, fortunately for me, I had then in my
childish brain still only a very limited number—right until the return from the cemetery of my mother,
whose weeping on finding me gone and after searching for me in vain, as it were "overwhelmed" me, I
then immediately emerged from the bin and standing first of all on the edge, for some reason or other
with outstretched hand, ran to her and clinging fast to her skirts, involuntarily began to stamp my feet and
why, I don't know, to imitate the braying of the donkey belonging to our neighbor, a bailiff.
Why this produced such a strong impression on me just then, and why I almost automatically manifested
so strangely, I cannot until now make out; though during recent years, particularly on the days called
"Shrovetide", I pondered a good deal, trying chiefly to discover the reason for it.
I then had only the logical supposition that it was perhaps only because the room in which this sacred
scene occurred, which was to have tremendous significance for the whole of my further life, was
permeated through and through with the scent of a special incense brought from the monastery of "Old
Athos" and very popular among followers of every shade of belief of the Christian religion. Whatever it
may have been, this fact still now remains a bare fact.