Gurdjieff at Christmas

This is now the third story I will share referring to the enigmatic character named George Gurdjieff. I shouldn’t have to remind you that this fragment is from a book, which in turn is a fragment of a mans life, which is a fragment of a time on Earth.

If this man Gurdjieff is beginning to interest you. If you enjoy the stories I share about him. I urge you to type his name into google or Wikipedia and read further fragments about this man. Alternatively you can go further and purchase one of a number of books by him with the title ‘Meetings with Remarkable Men’ which is a fabulous timeless classic. Or do nothing further. Your choice.

This extract is from the same book as the other two. If interested get in touch through twitter and I will share the name of it. Like I said, there are a few books by Gurdjieff himself. And many more by people who’s lives were touched by his. Enjoy!

At breakfast on Christmas Eve, 1922, Mr. Gurdjieff gave me the task of putting a Christmas tree up in the living room, one that he had already pointed out to me in the forest. He assigned four people to help me, and we left immediately.
My helpers were English and American, all newcomers. When we reached the tree, whose trunk was almost a foot in diameter, I placed my team around it, telling each to take firm hold of a strong branch within easy reach. I told them that if we all rocked the tree back and forth rhythmically, we could uproot it without having to cut it down.
Our efforts led to nothing. Whats more, the very idea that we could pull up such a big tree while standing on its roots seemed to them absurd, if not completely mad. From then on, all four refused to follow instructions that seemed totally ridiculous to them.
As Mr. Gurdjieff was passing by with several people, I explained the situation to him. He immediately sent the four rebels off to the chateau but, curious to see what might happen, they stopped to observe from a distance. Gyorgi Ivanovitch immediately had water brought in buckets and he poured it slowly over the base of the tree while we slowly rocked it from side to side. Then, each taking hold of a large branch, we all pulled upwards together, and the tree began to rise.
The four sceptics, who had never stopped watching, returned, amazed. One more pull and the tree came out of the ground. It was not an illusion. all four of them were left dunbfounded. The apparent mircle, however, lasted only a moment: the trunk, without a single root and sharpened to a point, seemed to be mocking the four speechless and somewhat crestfallen men. It was, in fact, the superb top of a tall tree felled on the site where the Study House was to be built.
One thing did seem miraculous, however. How could a tree that was cut down several months earlier sill be green at the end of December?


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