Every Stick Has Two Ends
Our lives are filled with happenstance occurrences — some favorable, some not. In popular parlance, this dichotomy is expressed as a stick with two ends. When an outcome is unfavorable, we are said to have gotten the “short end of the stick,” and are encouraged to make the best of this bad situation. Or we might follow the adage “when one door closes, another opens,” and drop the stick altogether to grab the more favorable end of another stick.
Gurdjieff, as he often does, turns this attitude on its head. From his perspective, the short end of the stick is the preferred end because the discomfort it creates helps us struggle with our mechanicality. And getting the longer, more comfortable end of the stick is worthless because it keeps us in our mechanical sleep. Gurdjieff expressed this idea by the aphorism “like what it does not like.” In other words, we should intentionally make choices that go against the tendencies of our mechanicality, so as to wind up with the short, uncomfortable end of the stick.
The Uncomfortable End of the Stick
Daily life provides numerous opportunities to choose the uncomfortable end of the stick. Consider, for example, our habits. Each habit is a stick with two ends. When I see myself succumbing to a habit, I have a choice: I can take the comfortable end of the stick and give in to my mechanicality, or take the uncomfortable end and struggle with it.
Additional opportunities arise from our interactions with others. Suppose a friend asks me to do a favor that I don’t want to do. Perhaps it is an imposition on my time, or perhaps the task is unpleasant. It would be easy for me to decline. But by choosing to do the favor, I take the uncomfortable end of the stick.
When I choose the uncomfortable end of the stick, I interrupt the momentum of my mechanical life. I feel awkward and self-conscious, with a strong desire to return to my comfortable mechanicality. I’m likely to be annoyed that I put myself in this position. And this is the point — Discomfort is exactly what I need. Because of it, I experience the world in unaccustomed ways. I see my mechanicality and how enslaved I am to it. These impressions may last only a few moments, but they bring an increased vibrancy to my life. In fact, I find myself increasingly willing to accept the unpleasantness of the uncomfortable end of the stick for the experience of being more awake.
The ability to make this choice requires both a watchful attention and a desire to escape my mechanicality. I must be alert for when an opportunity arises; and then, at that very moment, be willing to give up the comfortable for the uncomfortable. I can strengthen this ability by making frequent efforts to live as intentionally as possible. As I watch myself, I see the various ways that I automatically avoid the uncomfortable end of the stick. These impressions can show me what is needed to be able to choose differently.
Service to Others
When I choose the uncomfortable end of the stick, I not only benefit myself; I also perform an act of kindness to the person holding the other end. The following passage from Gurdjieff’s book Beelzebub’s Tales to his Grandson shows the great importance he placed on this idea.
“…(T)he highest aim and sense of human life is the striving for the welfare of one's neighbor, and that this is attainable only through the conscious renunciation of one's own.”
Gurdjieff described such an effort in the beginning of that book. He was discussing which language to write in. Writing in his native Armenian would be natural for him but would create difficulties for others. Alternatively, he could write in Russian, which would be difficult for him but easier for others. He chose the uncomfortable end of the stick, Russian, prioritizing the benefit of others over his own.
Taking the uncomfortable end of the stick is a way to be of service to our fellow beings. But the attitude behind the gesture is crucial. Consider, again, the example of doing a friend a favor. I could perform it egotistically (as in “doing this favor makes me feel special”), or begrudgingly (“I’ll do it but you owe me”), or halfheartedly (“I’ll do only the bare minimum”). None of these attitudes embody the “striving for the welfare of one’s neighbor” that Gurdjieff speaks of.
To truly strive for a person’s welfare, I need to feel related to the person at the other end of the stick, a recognition that although the two ends of the stick are subjectively different, they are part of the same stick. If the other person feels my effort, then a mutual respect may form between us. Over time, this respect might even turn into gratitude.
For example, consider the two-ended stick corresponding to a teacher-student interaction. The teacher takes one end, in service to the student at the other end. Suppose that this interaction is performed without any feeling of service, with the teacher presenting the information pedantically and the student listening without interest. Such an interaction is sterile: there is neither teaching nor learning. It will remain this way until the participants accept that they are part of a learning process. The teacher then becomes attentive to the needs of the student and the student becomes attentive to what the teacher is saying. A relationship between them develops.
I am reminded of Gurdjieff’s Law of Three, which asserts that every phenomenon has three aspects: an active force, a passive force, and a reconciling force. In our case, the active force is the person performing the service, and the passive force is the person receiving the service. Initially, their interaction involves only these forces; the person at the active end of the stick gives, and the person at the passive end takes. The Law of Three asserts that the reconciling force can enter when the two forces are in correspondence — in this case, when both participants recognize that they are “in the same boat.” The reconciling force is what creates the relationship between them.
The person holding the active end of the stick is responsible for serving willingly. The Law of Three implies that the person at the passive end also has a responsibility: to receive willingly. For example, in the teacher-student interaction, a good student will not only absorb what is being taught but will ask questions that elicit more information from the teacher.
Service to the Cosmos
Earlier I mentioned that each of our habits is a two-ended stick. Struggling with a habit corresponds to taking the uncomfortable end, and giving in to it corresponds to taking the comfortable end. A stick with two ends implies two participants; so whatever end of the stick I choose, something must take the other end. When struggling with habits, I find it helpful to envision that the other end is taken by a universal cosmic force, which I’ll call the “life force.”
The life force has been interacting with me continuously since birth. In these interactions, it usually takes the teaching end of the stick, serving and nurturing me so that I can grow into a responsible adult. I am the student, with the responsibility to accept this nurturing and to develop it in me as best I can. If I can maintain this acceptance, a relationship will develop. I feel this relationship as a gratitude for life, my teacher.
When I struggle with my mechanicality, the roles are reversed. I am taking the teaching end of the stick, and have a responsibility to serve the life force at the other end. But what does this mean? According to Gurdjieff, the energy of the cosmos circulates between two octaves: an “involutionary octave” of energy that flows from the life force down to us; and an “evolutionary octave” in which the energies flow back. The involutionary octave operates independently, but the evolutionary octave needs the support of our intentional efforts. That is, our efforts to struggle with our mechanicality can be our way to serve the cosmos. Gurdjieff expressed this service as an obligation “to strive to lighten as much as possible the sorrow of our Common Father.”
My attitude in making these efforts is important. Suppose that I take the uncomfortable end of the stick in my efforts to struggle with a habit. Then it would be inappropriate for me to make these efforts for my own benefit, such as to be a better person. Instead, my attitude should be one of service, an impartial offering to something unknown. At times, I get a faint glimmer of what this relationship with this unknown life force would be like. A feeling of being part of something vast, something wonderful. Perhaps it is the feeling of gratitude toward me from life itself.