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Dagobah Resident
I have come to the point in my life where I really want to be of service - and I'm really clear about what type of service I wish to contribute and to whom I wish to offer it.
However, having said that, I'm running into my own mechanicalness, (no surprise there), which is rendering me less effective.
So I went back to The Glossary and looked up "Aim" http://glossary.cassiopaea.com/glossary.php?id=91&lsel=A
and found this section which directly speaks to what I'm up against in achieving my goals.
Okay, so as I understand this, if I can achieve this "small thing", I can do the "big things" which Gurdieff states can never be done until I can do this one, "small" thing.
So here is my aim: My Aim is to put my keys, and the dog's leash in the same place every time I come into the house so I can free myself from the drama of running around looking for the keys and the dog's leash.
Now, for every Aim there is an obstacle: one of my many obstacles is the dog himself. My dog is a former shelter rescue dog who has serious abandonment issues. I too have serious abandonment issues. Thus when I enter the house after an absence, (even the shortest absence), the dog throws himself at me crying piteously, jumps in the air, lands on his two hind legs, and jumps again.
Now, because I think I understand how the dog feels, I am very solicitous of him. I "understand" how anxious he was that I would never return. I imagine him having a flashback to the time he was a stray, and I feel the utmost pity for him. I try to navigate the narrow hallway without stepping on the dog who is vocalizing hysterically, and I imagine he's telling me how frightened he was that he'd be abandoned again. At some point I have successfully passed through the hallway and come to a chair somewhere where I sit until he settles down at which point life goes on in the manner that we consider "normal" in our house.
At some later point, however, I have to walk the dog, and that is when I realize that I don't know where I've put the keys or his leash. Nor can I count on the certainty that if I find one, I will find the other. No. I have found the leash tangled around the legs of a chair, on a shelf, in a cubby, on the kitchen counter or any other unremembered place. Meanwhile the key could be anywhere. Also, it often happens that at times I will find the keys, but distracted by the dog's hysteria which manifests when he recognizes all the signs that lead him to believe that I will be exiting with him in tow ), I often unconsciously put the keys down in a place I can't remember when I finally find the leash.
Okay. Not only does this continual drama sap energy, but it definitely undermines my credibility with my daughter when I yell at her to be more organized.
I'm even reading a book entitled, "It's Hard To Make A Difference When You Can't Find Your Keys," by Marilyn Paul, Ph.D. The problem is that often I can't find the book.
So as a result of all the energy I'm losing trying to become more organized, I'm focusing on this one thing: putting the keys and the leash in the same place every time I come home.
Never again do I want to have one of my neighbors take pity on my dog who is being walked with one of my scarves threaded through his collar to the point that she takes it upon herself to thrust a leash into my hands insisting, "Take it!"
I did lose this leash as well as the other one after that both at the same time, and hoped that I wouldn't run into my neighbor again when I resorted to walking the dog with a scarf threaded through his collar once again.
So, as I'm writing this, it's become increasingly clear to me how much energy I'm losing over just this one thing.
And this is just one thing!
Gurdjieff was right. So, once again, My Aim is to put my keys and the dog's leash in the same place everytime I enter the house. This has become, as Gurdieff suggests, "My God".
If I can do this, I can do anything.
However, having said that, I'm running into my own mechanicalness, (no surprise there), which is rendering me less effective.
So I went back to The Glossary and looked up "Aim" http://glossary.cassiopaea.com/glossary.php?id=91&lsel=A
and found this section which directly speaks to what I'm up against in achieving my goals.
Gurdjieff said:Question What must I do?
Answer: There are two kinds of doing - automatic doing, and doing according to aim. Take a small thing which you now are not able to do, and make this your aim, your God. Let nothing interfere. Only aim at this. Then, if you succeed in doing this, will be able to give you a greater task. Now you have an ap-to do things too big for you. This is an abnormal appe-tite. You can never do these things, and this appetite keeps you from doing the small things you might do. Destroy this appetites forget big things. Make the breaking of a small habit your aim.
Okay, so as I understand this, if I can achieve this "small thing", I can do the "big things" which Gurdieff states can never be done until I can do this one, "small" thing.
So here is my aim: My Aim is to put my keys, and the dog's leash in the same place every time I come into the house so I can free myself from the drama of running around looking for the keys and the dog's leash.
Now, for every Aim there is an obstacle: one of my many obstacles is the dog himself. My dog is a former shelter rescue dog who has serious abandonment issues. I too have serious abandonment issues. Thus when I enter the house after an absence, (even the shortest absence), the dog throws himself at me crying piteously, jumps in the air, lands on his two hind legs, and jumps again.
Now, because I think I understand how the dog feels, I am very solicitous of him. I "understand" how anxious he was that I would never return. I imagine him having a flashback to the time he was a stray, and I feel the utmost pity for him. I try to navigate the narrow hallway without stepping on the dog who is vocalizing hysterically, and I imagine he's telling me how frightened he was that he'd be abandoned again. At some point I have successfully passed through the hallway and come to a chair somewhere where I sit until he settles down at which point life goes on in the manner that we consider "normal" in our house.
At some later point, however, I have to walk the dog, and that is when I realize that I don't know where I've put the keys or his leash. Nor can I count on the certainty that if I find one, I will find the other. No. I have found the leash tangled around the legs of a chair, on a shelf, in a cubby, on the kitchen counter or any other unremembered place. Meanwhile the key could be anywhere. Also, it often happens that at times I will find the keys, but distracted by the dog's hysteria which manifests when he recognizes all the signs that lead him to believe that I will be exiting with him in tow ), I often unconsciously put the keys down in a place I can't remember when I finally find the leash.
Okay. Not only does this continual drama sap energy, but it definitely undermines my credibility with my daughter when I yell at her to be more organized.
I'm even reading a book entitled, "It's Hard To Make A Difference When You Can't Find Your Keys," by Marilyn Paul, Ph.D. The problem is that often I can't find the book.
So as a result of all the energy I'm losing trying to become more organized, I'm focusing on this one thing: putting the keys and the leash in the same place every time I come home.
Never again do I want to have one of my neighbors take pity on my dog who is being walked with one of my scarves threaded through his collar to the point that she takes it upon herself to thrust a leash into my hands insisting, "Take it!"
I did lose this leash as well as the other one after that both at the same time, and hoped that I wouldn't run into my neighbor again when I resorted to walking the dog with a scarf threaded through his collar once again.
So, as I'm writing this, it's become increasingly clear to me how much energy I'm losing over just this one thing.
And this is just one thing!
Gurdjieff was right. So, once again, My Aim is to put my keys and the dog's leash in the same place everytime I enter the house. This has become, as Gurdieff suggests, "My God".
If I can do this, I can do anything.