In Search of the Miraculous

But later work showed us the methods of the psychological way.

The chief difficulty for most people, as it soon appeared, was the habit of talking.

No one saw this habit in himself, no one could struggle with it because it was always

connected with some characteristic which the man considered to be positive in

himself. Either he wanted to be "sincere," or he wanted to know what another man thought, or he wanted to help someone by speaking of himself or of others, and so on,

and so on.

I very soon saw that the struggle with the habit of talking, of speaking, in general,

more than is necessary, could become the center of gravity of work on oneself because

this habit touched everything, penetrated everything, and was for many people the

least noticed. It was very curious to observe how this habit (I say "habit" simply for lack of another word, it would be more correct to say "this sin" or "this misfortune") at once took possession of everything no matter what a man might begin to do.

In Essentuki at that time G. made us, among other things, carry out a small

experiment in fasting. I had carried out experiments of this kind before and a good

deal was familiar to me. But for many others the feeling of days which were endlessly

long, of complete emptiness, of a kind of futility of existence, was new.

"Well, now I clearly understand," said one of our people, "what we live for and the place that food occupies in our lives."

But I personally was particularly interested in observing the place that talk

occupied in life. In my opinion our first fast consisted in everybody talking without

stopping for several days about the fast, that is, everybody spoke about himself. In this respect I remember very early talks with a Moscow friend about the fact that voluntary

silence could be the most severe discipline to which a man could subject himself. But

at that time we meant absolute silence. Even into this G. brought that wonderfully

practical element which distinguished his system and his methods from anything I had

known previously.

"Complete silence is easier," he said, when I began once to tell him my ideas.

"Complete silence is simply a way out of life. A man should be in the desert or in a monastery. We speak of work in life. And a man can keep silence in such a way that

no one will even notice it. The whole point is that we say a good deal too much. If we

limited ourselves to what is actually necessary, this alone would be keeping silence.

And it is the same with everything else, with food, with pleasures, with sleep; with

everything there is a limit to what is necessary. After this 'sin' begins. This is

something that must be grasped, a 'sin' is something which is not necessary."

"But if people abstain from everything that is unnecessary now, at once, what will

the whole of life become like?" I said. "And how can they know what is necessary and what is not necessary?"

"Again you speak in your own way," said G. "I was not talking of people at all.

They are going nowhere and for them there are no sins. Sins are what keep a man on

one spot if he has decided to move and if he is able to move. Sins exist only for people

who are on the way or approaching the way. And then sin is what stops a man, helps

him to deceive himself and to think that he is working when he is simply asleep. Sin is

what puts a man to sleep when he has already decided to awaken. And what puts a

man to sleep? Again everything that is unnecessary, everything that is not

indispensable. The indispensable is always permitted. But beyond this hypnosis begins

at once. But you must remember that this refers only to people in the work or to those

who consider themselves in the work. And work consists in subjecting oneself voluntarily to temporary suffering in order to be free from eternal suffering. But people are afraid of suffering. They want pleasure now, at once and forever. They do not want to

understand that pleasure is an attribute of paradise and that it must be earned. And this is necessary not by reason of any arbitrary or inner moral laws but because if man gets

pleasure before he has earned it he will not be able to keep it and pleasure will be

turned into suffering. But the whole point is to be able to get pleasure and be able to

keep it. Whoever can do this has nothing to learn. But

the way to it lies through suffering. Whoever thinks that as he is he can avail himself

of pleasure is much mistaken, and if he is capable of being sincere with himself, then

the moment will come when he will see this."

But I will return to the physical exercises we carried out at that time. G. showed us

the different methods that were used in schools. Very interesting but unbelievably

difficult were exercises in which a whole series of consecutive movements were

performed in connection with taking the attention from one part of the body to

another.

For instance, a man sits on the ground with knees bent and holding his arms, with