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XXXII
THE HABITS OF day
to day living at the Prieure occupied
me to such an extent that I was very little concerned with my
"family"' life except for the letters I occasionally received from
my mother from America. Also, although Jane and Margaret
were permanently established in Paris, since Jane and I had
reached a point of no communication, I rarely thought about
them. I was brought back suddenly to the reality of my mother
when, in early December of 1927, she wrote me that she was
coming to Paris for Christmas. I was very pleased with this
news, and promptly answered her letter.
To my amazement, only a few days later, Jane appeared at
the Prieure for the special purpose of discussing my mother's
impending visit. I understood that, in view of her legal rights,
it was necessary for her to give us permission to visit our mother
in Paris and Jane had come to consider giving us this permission
and also to consult Gurdjieff about it, and, doubtless, to find out
how we felt about it.
Jane's argument that our serious work at the Prieure would
be interrupted by my mother's visit not only seemed to me
absurd, but also brought all my questions to the fore again. I
had been willing enough to accept the obvious fact that every-
one connected with Gurdjieff and the Prieure was "unusual" ;
the very word also meant that they were possibly special
people -- superior to or in some way better than people ""ho
were not involved with Gurdjieff. However, \V hen I was con-
fronted with this statement about serious work, I felt forced to
make another attempt at evaluation. I had felt uncomfortable
about my relationship with Jane for a long time, and it was un-
questionably unusual for a legal guardian to visit a school and
for her and her adopted son not to speak to one another for
almost two years, but this did not, at first glance, seem superior .
Since I had no ammunition with which to argue against the
statements that I was either "impossible" or "difficult" or both,
I had accepted this verdict on Jane's part; but after hearing her
arguments about this impending visit I began to think again.
Since Jane's arguments only increased my stubborn deter
mi nation that I was going to spend Christmas in Paris with
Lois, Jane now insisted that not only did I have to have her
permission but that I had to have Gurdjieff's permission
too. All of this naturally led to a conference with Gurdjieff,
although I realized later that only my continued insistence
made that conference necessary.
We met solemnly in Gurdjieff's room and he listened, rather
like a judge in a tribunal, to Jane's long account of her, and our,
relations with my mother, and the importance of Gurdjieff and
the Prieure in our lives -- what she wanted for us in the future,
and so forth. Gurdjieff listened attentively to all of this, thought
it over with a very serious look on his face, and then asked us if
we had heard everything that Jane had said. We both said we
had.
Then he asked, and even at that moment I thought it very
adroit of him, if we realized how important it was "for Jane"
that we stay at the Prieure. Once more, we both said that we
did, and Tom added that he also thought that any absence
would "interrupt" his work.
Gurdjieff gave me a questioning look, but did not say any-
thing. I said that except for the fact that I would not be
available to do work in the kitchen or at some other task I did
not think that my presence would be missed, and that, in addi-
tion, I was not aware of the importance of whatever it was I was
supposed to be doing at the Prieure. As he said nothing im-
mediately in answer to this, I continued, adding that he had
reminded me on many occasions that it was necessary to honour
one's parents, and that I felt that I would in no sense be
"honouring" my mother if I refused to see her; and that, in any
case, I must owe her a good deal if only because, without her, I
would not be alive to be anywhere -- including the Prieure.
Having listened to all of this, Gurdjieff then said that there
was only one problem that had to be solved: it would be difficult
for my mother if only one of us went to see her. He said that he
wanted us to make our decisions honestly and individually, but
that it would be better for everyone if we came to the same
decision -- either not to see her at all, or for both of us to visit
her over Christmas.
After considerable discussion, in his presence, we arrived at a
compromise which he accepted. We would both go to Paris to
spend Christmas with Lois, but I would go for two weeks -- the
entire time she would be in Paris -- and Tom would only go for
one week, which would include Christmas but not New Year's.
He said that he liked the holidays at the Prieure and did not
want to miss all of them. I said, promptly, that the holidays
meant nothing to me; what was important to me was seeing
Lois. To my great delight, Gurdjieff gave the necessary per-
mission -- two weeks for me, one week for Tom.
Although I was very happy to see my mother again, I did
not consider Christmas or her visit an overwhelming success for
anyone. I was very conscious of the opposite positions of Tom
and myself -- and inevitably reminded of the different decisions
we had made some years before when it had been a question of
spending Christmas with my father -- and as long as Tom stayed
in Paris, the fact that he was still determined to leave at the end
of one week hung over all three of us like a cloud. And when he
did return to the Prieure after one week that cloud was replaced
by the cloud of Lois' imminent departure. We talked a great
deal about Jane and Gurdjieff, the fact of the adoption, and,
perhaps for the first time since the year that we were adopted
by Jane, the whole question became important again. For
various reasons, most of which I no longer remember, it was
evidently impossible for either of us to return to America at that
time, but the very discussion of the question made me aware
that, were it possible for me to leave France and return to
America, I would certainly do so. My relationship with Jane --
lack of relationship would have been more accurate, as I had
not talked to her for almost two years except for the arguments
about Christmas -- was my main reason for wanting to leave.
In every other way, and in spite of frequently being puzzled
by Gurdjieff, I was content enough to be at the Prieure. But at
that time, with the entire question of why we were there, the
emphasis upon the fact that Jane was our legal guardian, and
the impossibility of being able to leave, all coming into strong
focus at the same time, I began to resent everything and every-
one, perhaps especially my own powerlessness. Lois was ex-
cluded from this resentment for the simple reason that she was,
at that time, equally helpless and in no position to alter the
situation.
Sad as I was when Lois left and I returned to the Prieure,
in another sense I was at least temporarily relieved of the
pressure of all the questions that had come up. Nothing had
changed, and I had to accept the situation, which turned out to
be considerably less agonizing than worrying about it in futile
attempts to find a way out of it. Even so, the resistances that had
manifested themselves actively for the first time that Christmas
did not vanish into thin air. I was determined that I would do
everything I could to change the situation, even if I had to wait
until I "grew up", which, quite unexpectedly then, no longer
seemed to be in the distant, unforeseeable future.
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