To Act From Within

Our psychology professor announced that for the next class we would meet in the cemetery just up the road. This was strange—our first and only "field trip."

When the day came, it was sunny and warm. All was quiet as we arrived individually and stood around, looking, for … what? Why were we here? Where was our teacher? There he was, standing there like the rest of us. We were spread out, each having found a space among the gravestones.

Terracotta statuette of an actor, Attica, early 4th century BCE

 As if awaiting a cue, expecting to be told what this was all about, I started to experience a mild uneasiness, as nothing seemed to be happening. Perhaps aided by the impression of so many of us standing around not knowing what to do, I happened to catch a glimpse of my own passive state of mind, my tendency to rely on the outside world to inform me, while overlooking the lesser known realm of my inner life. When I let this impression of myself and the class as a whole sink in, I became quieter inside and realized I could leave the cemetery now and walk out of the “classroom,” which I did, without hurrying, without concern about where I was going or what was next.

It seems I was simply following my nose when I gravitated toward a stone wall across the street. I climbed over and headed down the rocky slope that met a short stretch of coastline. I sat there for a long while, feeling supported by nature’s silence, letting the impressions of my experience of the cemetery classroom settle in before heading back to the college.

Later that day, when I saw the psychology professor, he offered me a book, To Live Within by Lizelle Reymond. We didn’t speak about the cemetery experience, yet something had been exchanged.

Within the incongruous nature of the setting and apparent absence of any stage direction, I was surprised by an inner sense of direction that arose from a moment of seeing myself.

When I look back on the cemetery scene, it appears as a bit of well-staged theatre with the cast of students left to figure out the story and their roles. Within the incongruous nature of the setting and apparent absence of any stage direction, I was surprised by an inner sense of direction that arose from a moment of seeing myself.

Reading in the Gurdjieff teaching references to “becoming an actor in life,” I was intrigued. Gurdjieff suggests,

“Everyone should try to be an actor. This is a high aim. The aim of every religion, of every knowledge is to be an actor. But at present all are actors.” ¹

Although it seems Gurdjieff’s use of the term “actor” has a deeper meaning than I fully understand, it is encouraging to hear him say that everyone should try to be an actor. Playing a role suggests being other than my usual self. Worth pondering is the following from Gurdjieff,

“In order to be a real actor, one must be a real man. A real man can be an actor and a real actor can be a man.” ²

How can I know what is real in myself? Here is where Gurdjieff’s teaching about developing both knowledge and being provides a foundation for self-study in the midst of everyday life. I need to be able to be myself and know myself and become well-centered in a balanced relation to all my parts—thinking, feeling, and moving. How else could I enter into whatever role is called for in life?

The intention to perform practical work accompanied by an inner attention brings self-observations into closer view. When recently carrying out an inner task for the week, which was to “just walk” twice a day for fifteen minutes, I realized this was not as simple as it sounds. When my body did the walking, my mind and feelings were otherwise occupied. I was drawn away by a variety of impressions along the street and even further away by random associative thinking. When I remembered and returned to “just walk,” I realized the near space around me felt enlivened. It became apparent that I had to inhabit this kinespheric space to stay with the intention to “just walk.” At the same time, there was a sensitivity to the larger space beyond.

Our personal atmospheric space is where acting takes place and comes alive through an expressive body, related feeling, and an attentive mind.

With new impressions, there are new questions. How do one's inner space, one’s near space around the body, and the greater space influence each other? Gurdjieff offers,

“Man has two substances in him, the substance of active elements of the physical body, and the substance made up of the active elements of astral matter. These two form a third substance by mixing. This mixed substance gathers in certain parts of a man and also forms an atmosphere around him, like the atmosphere surrounding a planet.” ³

A natural mutuality, therefore, exists between the inner life of the body and the near space around it. It is interesting to think of exploring one’s personal atmosphere as “a stage” for keeping a vision of oneself while performing a task or role. Our personal atmospheric space is where acting takes place and comes alive through an expressive body, related feeling, and an attentive mind.

The impression of leaving the cemetery classroom so many years ago remains alive in memory and in new connections. Recent experience with the task of “just walking” links closely with the experience of just walking out of the cemetery, where, for a brief period, a quieter mind, and a sense of atmosphere made it possible to act from within.

¹ Gurdjieff, G. I. Views from the Real World, Early Talks as Recollected by His Pupils. New York: E. P. Dutton & Co., Inc., 1973, 178.

² Gurdjieff, 178.

³ Gurdjieff, 92-93.