Daniel:   We were speaking, Nobby, you and me, this morning about the running of a cable, the discussion covered some ground. At one stage, we were talking about doing some concrete work. And the reaction in me was, you don’t actually expect me to do it. It got to the stage where something in me was saying, this is just too difficult. There was a shutting off, a losing of interest. When we were on the roof, talking about a cord down a drain pipe, something in me wanted to go and look to see whether it was possible. The easiest course was to walk behind Nick. And the thought came into my mind that that wasn’t a terribly safe thing to do in case he moved. But then my feet started moving, and there was another thought there saying, how clever it would seem for me to get there without falling off the roof. And then I went, although I knew that there was a risk, and when I get there, saw nothing. Just my eyes went in that direction, but nothing came in.

Mr Adie:   It does not sound safe. Perhaps you were still very much concerned with your safety.

Daniel:   Probably.

Mr Adie:   You realised that, and yet you went?

Daniel:   Yes. This exact thing is something that’s been of some importance to me for months as to why I have thoughts, but nothing corresponds to them. There’s no action.

Mr Adie:   Well, sometimes it’s very good that it doesn’t. But that again is accident and luck, and not interesting, other than the way you’re speaking now. But, how does it relate to your work? That is the point. What relation you make?

Daniel:   Well, the fact that anything can happen when I’m not there.

Mr Adie:   Did you feel the slightest twinge of fear?

David:   Perhaps very slight.

Mr Adie:   You’ll surely get pushed over the edge unless you learn. I mean, it won’t be that edge, but something will push you if you don’t respond quicker and quicker.

Years ago, before I met the work, before I met Mr Gurdjieff, I was walking along some steep cliffs with my dog, and I was in rather a sort of wanton mood, a little bit bored, and I came across a sort of a little rock island down below, with a steep slope down towards it. It was cut off from the rocky, vertical part by a space about that much (makes a gesture). Underneath, the waves were smashing around and frothing up, and I fancied to get on to it. It was a piece of rock about the size of that table there, or a bit bigger, and all vertical sides. I was more than a bit doubtful because if I got into that churning water, there was no getting out, but I thought, well, yes, I can. It’s only a yard. Something warned me, but I brushed it aside, and I skipped across this yard, just like you might pass over the route. The dog followed me. And directly when I landed, I was uneasy because I had to get back again. And having had a look round and seen all the foam being sucked down and great spouts coming up, I then started to look at going back, and that wasn’t so good. It was only a yard or so away, but I could neither go backwards to get a running start nor lean onto it that and pull myself up. I had to just jump, but I was on a slope like this. Well, the dog, simply leapt across and up it went, then it turned round and watched me. (Laughter).

No, no, it wasn’t funny. It was extraordinary. The dog knew very well that I was in a spot of difficulty. He was most concerned and watched me. And I eventually jumped across. But then I was absolutely stuck because I had landed in all this loose rubble, I couldn’t move anything because at the slightest movement, I started to slide. There was nothing below except this big chasm. So, it was really horrible. But the dog never moved, it watched me like that the whole time. Then eventually, somehow, I turned into a sort of caterpillar and managed to sort of almost roll up a little bit. Then there was a tiny bit of grass which I managed to hold on to. Eventually, I had managed to sort of roll upwards despite the pebbles tumbling down at the slightest touch.

I never forgot that. Just sheer stupidity, not heeding the warning. Of course, I was very sure-footed. And if I could have taken a run, I would have been up. But no. So, one slight mistake, and I don’t think I would have got out of it. It was very treacherous below. It’s the same thing that happened with you on the roof. I remember that so vividly. Just because I wasn’t sensible, I wasn’t balanced. I didn’t listen to the warming. I could see the difficulty. I felt the difficulty. I knew it was awkward and treacherous. And yet I went.

This is the point of the whole story, how I could be such a fool. But I was just that. I did not take the warning. How many times is that going to happen? I mean, in everything, in all sorts of invitations to absurdity. If only I can wait and see what the position is. I only had to sit there until somebody missed me and came looking , and then they would have thrown me a rope and I would have been in no danger. There was a clear warning in my feeling inside, and I didn’t heed it. Maybe you didn’t have that warning, I don’t know. It sounded as if you had a fraction. The warning was in my feeling. This is the point I wish to make. I had a definite feeling: “this is not to be!” And yet I was compelled to go and do it.

We have many more warnings from feeling than we know – many more.