Birthday Calculator
Topic: Metaphysical

"Hey Tige," I said to Mr. Tiger, the unimaginative pest of my psyche, "if you're like me, this page will be a blast."

'I'm not like you,' he responded too quickly. When he recognized what he had just said, Tiger did a swift about face and stated, 'I'm just like you - tough-minded, sensitive and happy-go-lucky. What do you have of interest today?" he asked pleasantly.

I laughed at the first part and answered the second. "It's a birthday calculator at PaulSadowski.com. You can punch in the month, day and year of your birth and then within seconds, you'll get statistics."

'I don't need that,' the pest confessed, 'My birthday is ancient and I'd rather keep it to myself. And besides,' he spoke sharply, 'I have no desire to find my soul mate.'

"It's not like that," I told him before going on. "Mine birth date is January 29, and I was born in 1948. One of the top songs that year was Buttons and Bows by Dinah Shore and I'm 1,855,466,597 seconds old," I said, reading aloud while looking at the data the computer turned up.

'Ancient too,' he said with insistence.

I went on without commenting on his insinuation and said the obvious. "Of course I know my astrological sign is Aquarius, and I knew too," I said throwing in what wasn't, "that my Life Path number is a 7, but I didn't know I was born on a Thursday - my mother had too many kids to remember that - and," I said a moment later, "I had no idea 1948 was a leap year."

'How'd you know your so called life path number?' asked Tiger, that aspect being of interest to him.

"Until finding this neat computer, I did it the old fashioned way," I responded before demonstrating. "Add the month - mine is a 1, for January. Then the day of the week - 29 for me, which adds together to be 11- actually a two when you add 1 + 1. And then," I continued, "the year. 1 + 9 + 4 + 8. All that translates into a 7. My life path is a 7.

Tiger became quite. My imagination was ignited. I went back to the site for some more fun. "I wonder what it'll instantly calculate for my kids dates of birth?" I said as I clicked back.

Phrenology Revisited
Topic: Metaphysical

"Phrenology is always criticized by those who never studied the science, using rather obscure reasonings and aprioristic statements." - Dr. DESCURET, "La Medecine des Passions"


"Hey Tige," I said to Mr. Tiger, the blockhead of my psyche, "there was a time when Phrenology, the study of the shape of the skull, was readily accepted. A phrenologist was consulted by thousands of people to access a persons character, personality traits, and latent abilities. The bumps, and the size of the head were thought to be a clue to a persons propensities or even a good way to find a marriage partner."

'And what brings this up today?' asked the pest in his smart-alecky way. 'Are you ready to admit you are a bonehead?'

It's a good thing I've long since grown past the days when an insult like that would have me running to the mirror. I was able to calmly respond, "I find it interesting that this ancient object of study - one that was once eagerly embraced by the medical community has virtually disappeared."

'With good reason,' the paper tiger sassed.

"This old self-instructor book, as they called it, entitled Phrenology: New Illustrated Self-Instructor in Phrenology and Physiology with over 100 engravings by O.S. and L.N. Fowler, offers detailed "description of various traits detected by phrenology," I went on.

'An old book and an old topic - dead and buried long ago,' said Tiger and before he strongly suggested, 'It's nonsense.'

"Perhaps," I half heartedly agreed. "I've no real knowledge of this subject, just a tireless interest in anything pertaining to body shape, facial features, and head size."

'A foot fetish too,' Mr. Tiger accused.

"Hands also," I threw in to make sure not to leave the impression that my attraction was not an erotic fixation.

I ended with a link to The History of Phrenology and a copy and paste of an excerpt from My Battle for Life: The Autobiography of a Phrenologist by David, G. Goyder from an 1857 edition of a 481 page book. Text complied by historian Dr John van Wyhe who authored, Phrenology and the Origins of Victorian Scientific Naturalism.

page 124
...showy, but rather rambling lecturer; but people were generally disappointed at the conclusion of his lectures. His subjects were Mnemonics and Phrenology. He was very skillful in the selection of his pupils, whom he invariably chose according to their organization. He has passed from this natural state of being, and the conclusion of his existence was, I believe, embittered by poverty and neglect.
But, to return to myself. It was from Dr. Crook that I received my first phrenological impressions, and so firm did his instructions take hold of me, that from the time of his visit to Bristol, I noted the peculiarities of all I came in contact with, and then turned to their organization to see if those peculiarities harmonized therewith. I was often at fault, mistaking prominent bones for eminences of brain; and as I had no one to consult, I made many mistakes.
With a very superficial knowledge of osteology, and great dread of ridicule, I kept my opinions to myself ; but, from the time of my first hearing Dr. Crook, I became a portrait collector. I never found a person with a low and contracted forehead possessed of high intellectual ability ; and eminence of intellect I ever found associated with depth and breadth of forehead. My portrait collecting has continued; and, at the present time, a period of thirty six years from my first impression of phrenology, I think I possess the best collection of portraits of any phrenologist in Great Britain.
I continued to take notice of the formation of the head of the different persons I came in contact with. In other words, I began to reduce to practice my small amount of phrenological knowledge. I did this both with regard to children as well as adults, and my situation afforded me abundant opportunities for the study of character. I had a deaf and dumb pupil, who was largely endowed with the qualities of imitation and music. I wondered whether music could be considered as a primitive and independent.

more here: http://pages.britishlibrary.net/phrenology/other_texts/goyder.txt

Baby George
Topic: Metaphysical

"Hey Tige," I said to Mr. Tiger, the pest who dreams he is me, "have you ever had a dream that you knew meant something?"

'Dreams are nothing but incomprehensible rubbish,' said the pest.

I did not want to argue while the dream was still fresh. I said "Hmmm," and then because it was such a vivid dream I said, "I think if I play with the metaphorical language, I may figure it out. And if I don't maybe others will have an idea."

I told Tiger my dream.

I dreamed I had a new baby. A son. He had this funny old man face - dark hair and thick eyebrows.

While I was away somewhere everyone decided to name him George. When I came back they told me his name, as if it were an ordinary thing to name a baby without the mother's input. I had faith that I'd remember what to do to raise my son, but I would never get used to that name.

At first, while still in the hospital, the nurse gave me a glass bottle to feed him until it dawned on me, quite surprisingly, that I could nurse him as I did my other babies. I thought how shocked the nurse would be when she came back into the room and saw that I was nursing him. I was thinking, "I'll remember how to take care of him, like I did my other kids, but not with this name."

Something felt wrong. The name George effected my every thought.

I kept asking everyone how dare they name my child while I was away. "I don't like the name George," I kept saying too.

I was upset at my kids because they should have known I would not like that name. I was puzzled that my husband would have gone along. I kept saying "even if they had chosen Vinnie for a name, I could get used to that - but not George."

Names such as James or Daniel, for my two brothers who have passed, went through my mind ... along with MANY other names. My time was spent thinking of what name would have been suitable.

While on the phone with my mother and referring to the name George, I kept saying "I can't believe they would do this to me." She didn't like the name either.

George and another baby were effortlessly swimming the over-stroke on the third day of his life. I was amazed to watch them from our boat. It was for a contest - a fund raiser of some sort, which involved catching as many white plastic spoons that were thrown off another boat. These spoons would multiply, which was considered a good thing. George caught many of them and swam with them back to our boat. We were helping out a charity.

I was somewhat happy that he was doing such a good deed, although I felt little joy because of his name. A severe sadness was clouding my experience. I could not feel the warm motherly feeling for George as I did automatically, with my other children. I knew it was because of his name. I tried to love him but something was absent. How did everyone dare name him George while I was away? It bothered me so much. I would while away the hours thinking of other names that I could have named him.

Finally, as my feelings swirled, I had a brain storm. I would change his name. I stood firm telling everyone that it wouldn't matter because at 3 days old he would not remember his name was ever George. I was at last happy with my new baby. I felt I would love him after-all.

I woke up not knowing what I would call him but I was at least deciding upon another name.

It was Tiger's turn to say, 'Hmmm.'

I asked, "Any ideas?"

I had none. When Tiger didn't answer I went to the Kabalarian website to help with my analysis.

Here's what I read for the name George:

* Although the name George creates an interest in the deeper aspects of life, we emphasize that it frustrates you through a scattered and emotional nature.

* This name, when combined with the last name, can frustrate happiness, contentment, and success, as well as cause health weaknesses in the heart, lungs, bronchial area, liver, and bloodstream.

* Your name of George is a dual influence: at times you can be extremely happy, expressive, full of fun, and good-natured; yet at other times you find congenial association impossible, being controlled by self-pity, moods, and depression.

* If you could express only the constructive qualities and restrain the negative qualities of your nature, you would always be good company.

* These contrasting qualities make it difficult for people to understand you and can lead to friction in your personal life.

* You are deep, philosophical, and refined, but your extremely sensitive nature causes you to become depressed over any real or imagined slight.

Lost Mother Moon
Topic: Metaphysical

"Hey Tige," I said to Mr. Tiger, the squander of my time, "I don't have time to post today."

'Slacking off, eh?' he replied so as to make me feel guilty for having other things to busy myself with.

I left the jab alone and said instead, "Lucky for me, I now have an assortment of posts that were retrieved from my accidently deleted blog. Today I'll do a repeat of a post I really liked."

'It didn't get a single comment the first time around,' Tiger flippantly reminded, "that should tell you something.'

I didn't answer because it really didn't matter. I went straight to an entry posted first on Monday, March 20, 2006.


Take Two: Lost Mother Moon
Topic: Book Reviews

..."[W]hat Jung called 'the moral obligation' to live out and to express what one has learned in the descent or ascent to the wild Self. This moral obligation he speaks of means to live what we perceive, be it found in the psychic Elysian fields, the isles of the dead, the bone deserts of the psyche, the face of the mountain, the rock of the sea, the lush underworld - anyplace where La Que Sabe breathes upon us, changing us. Our work is to show we have been breathed upon - to show it, give it out, sing it out, to live out in the topside world what we have received through our sudden knowings, from body, from dreams and journeys of all sorts." - Clarissa Pinkola Estes

"Hey Tige," I said to Mr. Tiger, the out of rhyme inner pest of my psyche, "I want to mention again the poet Seamus_Heaney Seamus Heaney, who caught my attention with words such as "dark drop," "the trapped sky," "the smells of waterweed, fungus and dank moss," in his poem Personal Helicon. I'd like to juxtapose his work with that of another storyteller; Clarissa Pinkola Estes."
I proceeded, "Seamus Heaney, suggested at his acceptance speech for Nobel Prize in Literature in 1995, that "images and stories do function as bearers of value."

And to tie this thought together with Clarissa Pinkola Estes, I said, "Estes suggested in an interview in 1994, "People are starved for poetry, starved for things that strengthen them. There are any number of so-called self-help books and tapes on the market, but I don't think that people are needing or wanting self-help as much as they want to be strengthened. It is useful, most definitely, but it leaves out the underworld, the deep inner life. Deep inner life. It also leaves out the spirit."

"Each of these extraordinary writers talked about the dark bogs," I said to Mr. Tiger, "a topic I've been looking at for some time."

"What I'm going to present today is a story from a Sounds True Audio recording recited by Estes. It is, in my estimation, the inescapable connection that brings together these two storytellers using symbolic language to represent the dark and the light. And on a personal note," I said to Mr. Tiger also, "it is the interconnecting element that strengthens and explains the reason for my ongoing dialog with you."

'Are you crazy?' asked the beast within. 'No one will even know what you mean.'

"Perhaps you are right," I agreed with a quick nod of my head. I then began the story of The Lost Mother Moon with a hope that I could give it the justice it deserves. I said first, "Thank you Clarissa Pinkola Estes."

Lost Mother Moon

There was a beautiful village - a village where the people in it were good. There were many lovers, many artists, many poets who would write and many people with young children; all of whom would tell their stories.
The only problem with this village was that it was an island surrounded by some of the darkest bogs you could imagine. There was quicksand, sludge, mud and quagmires all around. Because of this setting, the people of the village relied on the light of the moon to light their way through the darkness. If not for the moon, they would perish in the bogs.

To complicate the problem there were creatures that lived in the bogs - things of the dark. Things that were evil and had claws and didn't care at all for human beings. And so, the people of the island were very grateful for this great mother moon that passed over the sky and back again month after month.

There was a time however of every month, when the sky went dark. The bogs became especially treachous then and in fact, once, a foolish person waundered off into the bogs on a dark night, without the light of the moon, and got lost and drowned.

When the mother moon heard about this death she was heartsick. And because she loved humans so much, she decided to come down on a slow star to earth - all the way down to the edge of the marshes, so she could see what she could do to help.

She wore a very dark cloak around her, so dark that only a small circle of light showed on her white feet as she walked through the very dark marshes. It was very cold - the marshes were filled with muck and lots of mud and roots sticking up everywhere, and tree trunks, and many dark vines that were tangled, and much underbrush.

At the edge of the marsh it was not as thick but it became moreso as she came into the middle of the place. There she felt chilled and suddenly something was not quite right. She couldn't tell exactly what it was but she trembled in that coldness. She felt there was a presence with her, yet; unseen. Suddenly a vine whipped out and wrapped itself around her ankles and held her fast and two more around her wrists. They all held her fast. She cried out but because it was night and because the village was asleep, no one heard her cry.

As she was contemplating her difficultly, all of a sudden, off in the distance in the dark she heard the voice of a human. "Help me! Please help me." She saw, just by the dimmest light of the stars, an old man who was laboring through the marshes - trying to stay on the land in between the bogs. She was so concerned that she threw back her head and the hood of her coat fell from her beautiful glorious luminous hair and it lit up the bog.

As the man struggled toward her and she realized that before her was this darkest bog and that he would fall directly into it - she was actually luring him to his death. So she shook her body, and shook her body, until her cloak opened up fully and a hugh ray of her light spread across the bog in front of her and he suddenly saw that he was about to come to his death. He took another path and he was saved. And as a stranger often does, whose life has been saved, he thought no more of it.

And she sank deeper and deeper into a despair, and deeper and deeper into the mud surrounding her. All the dark things came out and clutched around her and danced about her and chanted about her. "Let's kill her! Yes, yes, let's get rid of her. Yes, this is the time - now we've got her at last. Yes, this is our chance - now we've got her - yes, let's push her down. Yes, let's bury the mother moon."

And that they did. They pushed her and drove her down, and down and down. Crying and fighting and kicking, and beating her they drove her down into the mud, farther and farther and farther, they drove her down, until only a small pool of her golden hair showed at the top of the bog. Oh, they were so happy - so happy. They said, "Oh at last we have put out the light!"

They rolled a huge stone - a huge stone, over her, so that at last...her light was out.

The villagers waited for the moon to come back again but it did not. They spoke to one another, "What's happening? It's not usually gone for more than a couple days. What's happening?" They waited for the moon to come back and it did not. It was a week and then another week and no light. They were running out of food, so they had to go out. They had to travel at night. And so they traveled across the bogs. The suffering was great.
Children became orphans and husbands and wives and lovers were lost to each other in the bogs and no one could find their way home again. For the moon was nowhere to be found.

The villagers spoke about this, "We can't continue to live this way - to die this way. No one should have to live like this." They decided that at night - that night, they would go out into the bogs with great torches. And this they did. They searched the bogs high and low starting at the very edge of the marshes - coming closer and closer to the center. They found nothing, but they could hear the chattering of the evil ones in the background. They could hear and feel the sound of the claws and clicking of the evil ones running close by. Some of them even grabbed at their coats and grabbed their arms and tried to grab onto to their hats to drag them into the bogs. They resisted and because there were so many of the people, they were able to throw off the evil ones, until at last, they came to a place where there was a huge stone.

Around the edge of the stone was a light. A round of light that pulsed...like a heartbeat. Through that kind of light they could see, just at the edge of the rock, that there was something. Was it music? No. It wasn't music. Was it a fragrance? Well, something like that...but not quite. What was it?

"This rock was not here before," they exclaimed to each other. "We've never seen this before. There's something very odd about this."

So they pulled and they hauled and they pushed and they tried to roll the rock off. But they could not move it. So they went back to the village for more villagers and more torches and they came back. They said that everyone must push as hard as they can to lift this great stone off whatever it is that lies underneath. "We feel that we are going to labor this out," they said. The strongest and the weakest all together worked and pulled and pushed and hauled, until finally, bit by bit, they pushed the stone away.

And as they looked down into this muddy pit they saw this most beautiful face they had ever seen. A beautiful luminous face that was so filled with love of humanity that they were, all of them, awe struck by it. Such a beautiful face with eyes that were filled with love for all things that lived. Their hearts broke and stayed broken in a very good way.

And the face began to lift up and up - shedding light - golden light, onto the fields. Up and up and farther and farther up the face lifted. Higher and higher the face rose, shedding it's golden light all the time. Down on the people, down on the land, the marshes, the bogs. All the evil things ran for their underwater holes and were seen no more.

And soon the face was vague... more and more vague the higher it climbed in the sky. Until at last, there was a golden orb in the sky. The villagers went home, content that once again they would have the light to show the way around the bogs that surrounded the village.

But they would know now that there would be a shot period in every cycle when the sky at night would be dark. And during those nights, they would stay home. The poets would write, the lovers would make love, the children would draw close to their mothers and fathers. And they would tell the story of the night the moon disappeared and was found again.

Three please
Topic: Metaphysical


" The order of a unique figure and the harmony of a unique number give rise to all things." - Giordano Bruno.

"Hey Tige," I said to Mr. Tiger, "today I want to talk a bit about the hidden meaning to the number three which is said to be the dimensions of space - length, breadth and height."

'Nonsense, nonsense, nonsense,' yelped Mr. Tiger three times before I got underway, "this entry will be like the blind leading the blind."

I came back with a quote from Dr. Seuss before continuing, "I like nonsense - it wakes up the brain cells."

I said too, "I've no major insights into solving the hidden meaning of numbers. It's over my head actually. But Tige," I added just to be sure he didn't think I was going to add anything of real valuable to a subject that has been explored by others with far more understanding than I, "the mysterious is something that intrigues me. When it comes right down to it though, if what I say is to have any credence, I suggest people do their own study to find out more, for indeed when looking into these kinds of topics, it does sometimes feel as though it is a case of the blind leading the blind."

And then because of his rude insinuation, I started again by weaving a few examples of threes found in fairy tales, starting with, "Three blind mice, three ugly step sisters, three little pigs, the three musketeers, Goldilocks and the three bears, the miller's daughter had to spin straw into gold for three nights in Rumplestiltskin."

"The number three is said to symbolize past, present, and future and has been used in many cultures and religions," I began again, "for example the Trinity - the Father, son and the holy spirt and the three wise men. Still another example from Christian teachings is that Jesus was crucified and rose on the third day at 3:00."

I was cut off again by the quarrelsome pest. 'Three's a crowd,' he said as if that meant anything.

I went on in spite of his mood because I found interest in what lies hidden in the world around us. "Pythagoras the Greek mathematician and philosopher called three the perfect number because it expressed the beginning, middle, and end. Others say it is symbolic of place, time and action," I told him.

'You can sure make a mountain out of a mole hill,' Tiger growled. He wanted no more of our discussion.

I made a third attempt at getting to the subject. "Once upon a time," I said as if reciting a nursey rhyme, "there was said to be a mythical character called Thoth, who according Wikipedia, oversaw three epic battles between good and evil. Thoth, aka as Hermes the Thrice-Great by some, said in the Emerald Tablet, about the idea of one and the THREE:

Three is the mystery, come from the great one.
Hear, and Light on thee will dawn.
In the primeval, dwell three unities.
Other than these, none can exist.

These are the equilibrium, source of creation,
one God, one Truth, one point of freedom.
Three come forth from the three of the balance,
all life, all good, and all power.

Three are the qualities of God in his Light-home:
Infinite power, Infinite Wisdom, Infinite Love.
Three are the powers given to the Masters,
To transmute evil, assist good, use discrimination.

Three are the things inevitable for God to perform:
Manifest power, wisdom and love.
Three are the powers creating all things:
Divine Love possessed of perfect knowledge,
Divine Wisdom knowing all possible means,
Divine Power possessed by the joint will of
Divine Love and Wisdom.

Three are the circles (states) of existence:
The circle of Light where dwells nothing but God,
and only God can traverse it;
the circle of Chaos where all things
by nature arise from death;
the Circle of awareness where
all things spring from life.

All things animate are of three states of existence:
chaos or death, liberty in humanity and felicity of Heaven.
Three necessities control all things:
beginning in the Great Deep, the circle of chaos, plenitude in Heaven.
Three are the paths of the Soul:
Man, Liberty, and Light.

Three are the hindrances:
lack of endeavor to obtain knowledge;
non-attachment to god; attachment to evil.
In man, the three are manifest.
Three are the Kings of power within.
Three are the chambers of the mysteries,
found yet not found in the body of man.

GI Gurdjieff
Topic: Metaphysical


"Hey Tige," I said to Mr. Tiger, the pest who can see no further than his own nose, "this topic has been on my back burners for some time now."

'Your back burners are always ablaze,' Tiger correctly observed.

I laughed and then said, "I've read a lot about Gurdjieff, especially while I was a member of an internet study group."

'A group you no longer participate in,' the pest tossed at me, as if to claim that that was reason enough not to continue to think on these things.

I responded simply with, "That's right," quickly going back to my opening thoughts and saying, "As I rebuild my lost blog I think it's a good idea to place one or two entries here about Gurdjieff, P. D. Ouspensky, and various other deep thinkers who traveled along the metaphysical journey."

Dissatisfied, and in reference to my lost blog and my plans to reinsert several posts, Tiger asked with a snort, 'Is this going to be another boring Take Two entry about the Enneagram? Or perhaps something on Paramahansa Yogananda, another of your guru heros? It's rubbish,' he said loudly and then once again, 'all rubbish.'

"No," I answered plainly, not bothering to defend my views for my head was too busy filling up with ideas for future posts. I wanted to introduce bits and pieces of the truth from several sources. I finally said to Tiger, "I'll get to all that one day," and to really make his day I threw in, "There's just so darn much to think about concerning group dynamics and the human condition."

With that I pasted from Self Observation a talk by Gurdjieff, taken from Question de Gurdjieff by Albin Michel, copyright by Triangle editions.

Intro to a meeting from September, 1941: "You will see that in life you get back exactly what you put in. Your life is the mirror of what you are, it is your image. You are passive, blind, demanding. You take all, you accept all, without ever feeling indebted. Your attitude towards the world and toward life is the attitude of one who has the right to demand and take. Of one who doesn't need to pay for gain. You believe that all things are due to you, only because it's you! All your blindness is there. It doesn't catch your attention. It is however what, in you, separates a world from another...You have no measure to measure yourself up. You live only between 'I like it' and 'I don't like it'. Which means that you have appreciation only for yourself. You do not allow for anything above you - theoretically or logically maybe, but not in reality. This is why you are demanding and keep on thinking that everything should be cheap, and you can afford to pay for anything you want. You don't recognize anything above yourself or outside yourself or inside yourself. This is why. I repeat, you have no measure and live only to satisfy your whims...Yes your 'self appreciation' makes you blind! It is the biggest obstacle to a new life. One has to be able to pass this obstacle, this threshold, before one can go further. It is the test that separates the 'chaff' from the 'wheat' in people. No matter how intelligent, how endowed, how brilliant a man is, if he doesn't change his opinion about himself, he will be lost for inner development, for the work based on self knowledge, for a real evolution. He will stay as he is all his life...The first demand, the first condition, the first test for he who wants to work on himself is to change his appreciation of himself. He cannot just imagine, or simply believe or think, but actually *see* things in himself that he did not see before, really see them. Never will his opinion about himself change as long as he will not see inside himself. And in order to see, he has *to learn* to see: it is the first initiation of man into self knowledge...Before anything else, he has to know what to look for. Once he knows it, he has to make efforts, focus his attention, look constantly, with tenacity. By maintaining his attention on it, by not forgetting about looking, one day he may see. If he sees once, he can see a second time, and if this is repeated he cannot ignore seeing. This is the state to look for in our observation; it is from this that the true desire, the desire to evolve,will be born; from cold we're becoming hot, vibrating; we will be deeply touched by our reality...Today we have only the illusion of what we are. We overestimate ourselves. We do not respect ourselves. To respect myself, I have to have recognized in me a part which is higher than the other parts and to which I show respect by the attitude I have towards it. In this way I will respect myself. And my relationships with others will be ruled by the same respect...We have to understand that all other measuring units, talent, erudition, culture, genius, are changing units, units of detail. The ony true measure, never changing,objective, the only real one, is the measure of inner vision. "I" see - "I" see myself - and you have measured. With a higher, real part, you have measured a lower one, also real. And this measure, defining by itself the respective roles of each part, will bring you to self respect. But you will see it is not easy. And it is not a bargain. One has to pay a lot...For the bad payers, the lazy, the losers, no chance. One must pay, pay a lot, pay immediately and pay in advance. Pay from oneself. With sincere efforts, whole heartedly, without expectations. The more you will be willing to pay without reticence, without cheating, without falsity, the more you will receive. And in order to avoid paying cash. Because you have to pay with all the gratuitous theories, all the deeply rooted convictions, all the prejudice, all conventions, all "I like it" and "I don't like it". Without bargaining, honestly, not just make believe. Trying to see while using fake money...Try for a moment to accept the idea that you are not what you think you are, that you over estimate yourself, therefore that you lie to yourself. That you lie to yourself always, every moment, all day long, your whole life. That the lie rules you to the extent that you cannot control it anymore. You are its victim. You lie everywhere. Your relationships with others, lies. the education you're giving, your petty conventions, lies. Your learning, lies. Your theories, your art, lies. Your social life, your family life, all lies. And what you think of yourself, lies too. But you don't stop from what you're doing or from what you're saying, because you believe in you. You have to stop inside and observe...Observe without prejudice. While accepting for a time this idea of lies. And if you observe in this manner, paying of yourself, without self-pity, by giving all your false riches for one moment of reality, maybe someday you'll see all of a sudden something you never saw in you before. You will see you are someone else from what you thought you are. You will see that you are two. One that is not, but takes the place and plays the other's role. And the one that is, but so weak, so inconsistent, that just brought forth it disappears immediately. It cannot stand the lies. The smallest lie kills it. It doesn't fight, it does not resist, it is vanquished in advance. Learn to look until you have observed the difference between your two natures, until you have seen the lies, the imposter in you. When you will see your two natures, that day, in you, the truth will be born." --GI Gurdjieff