In Search of the Miraculous

acting, otherwise there would have been no sense in it. I was very interested and

attracted by this display of feeling on the part of G.

I spent in all about two weeks in Alexandropol. At length on one fine morning G.

said that we would be going to Petersburg in two days and we set off.

In Tiflis we saw General S. who at one time used to come to our Petersburg group

and it looked as though the talk with him gave G. a fresh view on the general situation

and made him somewhat change his plans.

On the journey from Tiflis I remember an interesting talk with G. at one of the

small stations between Baku and Derbent. Our train stood there a long time letting

through trains with "comrades" from the Caucasian front. It was very hot, a quarter of a mile away the surface of the Caspian Sea was glittering, and all around us was

nothing but fine shining flint with the outlines of two camels in the distance.

I tried to lead G. to talk about the immediate future of our work. I wanted to

understand what he was going to do and what he wanted from us.

"Events are against us," I said. "It is by now clear that it is not possible to do anything in the midst of this mass madness."

"It is only now that it is possible," G. replied, "and events are not against us at all.

They are merely moving too quickly. This is the whole trouble. But wait five years

and you will see for yourself how what hinders today will prove useful to us."

I did not understand what G. meant by this. Neither after five years

nor after fifteen years did this become any clearer. Looked at from the point of view

of "facts," it was difficult to imagine in what way we could be helped by events in the nature of "civil war," "murder," epidemics, hunger, the whole of Russia becoming savage, and then the endless lying of European politics and the general crisis which

was undoubtedly the result of this lying.

But if looked at, not from the point of view of "facts," but from the point of view of esoteric principles, then what G. meant becomes more comprehensible.

Why were there not these ideas earlier? Why did we not have them when Russia

existed and when Europe was a comfortable and pleasant place "abroad"? It was here probably that lay the solution to G.'s enigmatic remark. Why were there not these

ideas? Probably precisely because these ideas could come only in such a time when

the attention of the majority is distracted in some other direction and when these ideas

can reach only those who look for them. I was right from the point of view of "facts."

Nothing could have hindered us more than "events." At the same time it is probable that precisely the "events" made it possible for us to receive what we had.

There remains in my memory one other conversation during this journey. Once

when the train was standing a long time in some station and our fellow travelers were

walking on the platform, I put one question to G. which I could not answer for myself.

This was, in the division of oneself into "I" and "Ouspensky," how can one strengthen the feeling of "I" and strengthen the activity of "I"?

"You cannot do anything about it," said G. "This should come as a result of all your efforts" (he emphasized the word "all"). "Take for example yourself. By now you should have felt your 'I' differently. Try to ask yourself whether you notice the

difference or not."

I tried to "feel myself" as G. had shown us, but I must say that I did not notice any difference from the way I felt before.

"That will come," said G. "And when it does come you will know. No doubt

whatever is possible. It is quite a different feeling."

Later I understood about what he was speaking, that is, about which kind of feeling

and which kind of change. But I began to notice this only two years after this

conversation.

On the third day of our journey from Tiflis, while the train was waiting at Mozdok,

G. said to us (there were four of us) that I was to go alone to Petersburg while he and

the others would stop at Mineralni Vodi and go to Kislovodsk.

"You will stop at Moscow and go to Petersburg afterwards," he said to me, "and tell them in Moscow and Petersburg that I am beginning

new work here. Those who want to work with me can come. And I advise you not to

stay there long."

I said good-by to G. and his companions at Mineralni Vodi and traveled on alone.

It was clear that nothing remained of my plans for going abroad. But now this no

longer troubled me. I did not doubt that we should have to live through a very difficult

time but now it hardly mattered to me. I realized what I had been afraid of. I was not

afraid of actual dangers, I was afraid of acting stupidly, that is, of not going away in

time when I knew perfectly well what must be expected. Now all responsibility

towards myself seemed to have been taken from me. I had not altered my opinions; I

could say as before, that to stay in Russia was madness. But my attitude towards this

was quite indifferent. It was not my decision.

I traveled still in the old way, alone in a first-class compartment, and near Moscow