I have obtained a copy of an earlier Russian draft of In Search of the Miraculous from the Beinecke. There is a pencil marking in the top right hand corner which has the year 1926. I don’t know who added this or when. A friend of mine in Russia is turning the barely legible materials into something I can manage. So far, the differences I have found are minor, but in the interests of completion, I shall include everything behind the very minor. Also, there are some entire paragraphs in the published English version which are not in the early Russian. I shall note them only when they are quite significant. I underline passages found only in the early Russian.

First, consider p.4 of the English. The Russian has the following. “Personally, the war couldn’t touch me, at least not until the final catastrophe, which seemed inevitable for Russia, and perhaps for all of Europe, but not yet imminent. I believed I had about two years to devote entirely to my work. And I decided to spend this time most productively, in line with the goals I had set for myself several years earlier, which were connected to the idea of ​​”seeking the miraculous.”

This is interesting: Ouspensky was prescient. I wonder if the sub-text is that he remembered this from recurrence?

Second, consider pp.4-5 of the English, about the development in his ideas about “schools.” In the early Russian, Ouspensky wrote: “existence. Now I could say with certainty that this no longer seemed possible to me, and on the contrary, it seemed naive and almost ridiculous to expect it. I understood that expecting school to come to us would be like expecting a mountain that won’t come to Muhammad. And I saw that for us, as we are, schools can only exist on earth.”

That is, the nature of what we can find is to a significant extent limited by our state, what we are. This is, I think, an important principle, applicable in many areas.

What he wrote after this is not so different from the English, but is nonetheless fascinating: “Thus, I formulated for myself that one must go to a “school,” i.e., an “occult school” or a “yoga school,” whatever its outward name, firstly, just as one would to any other school; that is, one must have sufficient preparation and be prepared for the fact that work in this school may require a great deal of time and effort, significantly more than an ordinary school, whatever it may be; and, secondly, that one must enter such a school without setting any specific demands, because one might receive something completely different from what one expected. And then one must go as one would to a monastery, i.e., one must go completely dedicating oneself, leaving nothing behind and not hoping to return to anything, not even hoping to preserve oneself, one’s goals, thoughts, and intentions, because all of this could change. And I already knew that this was inevitable and that one must either abandon the idea of ​​seeking the miraculous entirely or go to any lengths.”

“At the same time, I became convinced that the method I had chosen to learn the ideas and methods of the yoga school was clearly inadequate. I saw and felt that the entire structure and teaching in these schools was such that nothing could be learned from the outside. And most importantly, one must first find the school, and this is not at all easy. On the contrary, finding a school is an exceptionally difficult task and is like the first test on a beginner’s path, as it requires a deeper understanding.”

Third, take his itinerary on pp.5-6. This is the Russian: “I decided to give myself some time. In a year and a half or two, I expected to finish my business in Russia and then head East again. Before going to India, I wanted to travel through Muslim countries, primarily Persia and Central Asia. I had heard of very interesting Sufi schools in Spain. Then I was attracted by the idea of ​​traveling to India overland. I knew of a route through the Alai Range to Kashgar, from where caravans travel to Kashimir via the Pamirs. Then I wanted to visit some places in southern India, which I hadn’t been able to reach this time, and maybe even live there for a while.”

Fascinating. If anyone knows about these Sufi schools in Spain, I would be interested to hear.

Fourth, on p.6, we have “Soon after this, for various reasons, I left the paper and went to Petersburg.” The Russian adds that he left it because the newspaper was taking up too much of his time. I suspect that Ouspensky had a private income.

Fifth, this passage is entirely missing from what was published: “Incidentally, I was quite critical of Theosophy and related movements in these lectures, and so I later said of my lectures that I had become disillusioned with India and rejected the miraculous. In reality, it was quite the opposite.”

Sixth, on p.9, Ouspensky describes meeting Gurdjieff’s pupils in the Sokolniki direction. He adds in this early draft: “. I was also curious about who they knew in Moscow and what circles and people they interacted with. But I couldn’t find out either, and apparently they didn’t know or interact with anyone.”

Seventh, on p.11, the English reads: “If it can be published it is only in a monthly magazine, but I don’t know any one suitable for this now. And in this case they will ask for the whole story, before they say anything.”  G. did not say anything and the conversation stopped at that.” This is, of course, the reading of “Glimpses of Truth.” Oddly, the Russian has Gurdjieff not only not say nothing, but positively say: ““Yes,” said G. “This is, of course, true.” We didn’t think about it. But how do you like the story in general?” Then, after Ouspensky’s reply, Gurdjieff says nothing. But the admission: “We didn’t think of that” is remarkable.

Eighth and finally for this post, is the following present in the early Russian, underlining what is extremely important and sginficant that he omitted it from the final (as I have said, the puboished book is in part an apology for why he left Gurdjieff, and the omission of this material seems to support this):

“It quickly became clear to me that G. and his circle were unlike anything I’d encountered before. There was no constant rehash of the same religious-mystical, spiritualistic, or occult ideas and phrases common in such circles. There was undoubtedly something “new” here, and not just in the form of philosophical ideas, but in the form of very real, positive knowledge and some method still elusive to me, although, of course, I couldn’t yet clearly formulate this newness.

G. spoke little about himself. Once or twice he mentioned his travels in the East, and some of the episodes he recounted greatly intrigued me and, so to speak, opened the door to many new questions and conversations. I felt that he had seen and known in the East precisely what I wanted to see and know, and I began to think that in him I had found the man I had long dreamed of finding—that is, the man who had been my companion for so long. a person who is searching in the same direction that I am searching, but who started searching earlier, has already found a lot and can show me the way.“