WALLY: Oh!
ANDRE: You call them fauns, don't you?
WALLY: I thought a fawn was a baby deer.
ANDRE: Yeah, well, there's a deer that's called a fawn, but these are like those little...imaginary...
WALLY: Oh! The kind that Debussy, uh... [Wally makes a gesture with his hands by his head, like big ears.]
ANDRE: Right! Well. So, he got to know the faun, and then he got to know other fauns, and a series of conversations began. And more and more fauns would come out every afternoon to meet him, and he'd have talks with the fauns. And then one day after a while, when, you know, they'd really gotten to know him, they asked him if he would like to meet Pan, because Pan would like to meet him! But of course Pan was afraid of terrifying him, because he knew of the Christian misconception which portrayed Pan as an evil creature, which he's not. But Roc said he would love to meet Pan, and so they met, and Pan indirectly sent him on his way on a journey in which he met the other people who began Findhorn. But Roc used to practice certain exercises, like for instance, if he were right-handed, all today he would do everything with his left hand, all day, eating, writing, everything: opening doors, in order to break the habits of living. Because the great danger he felt for him was to fall into a trance, out of habit. He had a whole series of very simple exercises that he had invented, just to keep seeing, feeling, remembering. Because you have to learn now. It didn't use to be necessary, but today you have to learn something like: are you really hungry or are you just stuffing your face because because that's what you do, out of habit. I mean, you can afford to do it, so you do it, whether you're hungry or not. You know, if you go to the Buddhist meditation center, they make you taste each bite of your food, so it takes two hours--it's horrible--to eat your lunch! But you're conscious of the taste of your food! If you're just eating out of habit, then you don't taste the food and you're not conscious of the reality of what's happening to you. You enter the dream world again.
WALLY: Do you think maybe we live in this dream world because we do so many things every day that affect us in ways that somehow we're just not aware of? I mean, you know, I was thinking: now last Christmas, Debby and I were given an electric blanket. Now I can tell you that it is just such a marvelous advance over our old way of life, and it is just great. But it is quite different from not having an electric blanket. And I sometimes sort of wonder, well, what is it doing to me? I mean I sort of feel I'm not sleeping quite in the same way.
ANDRE: Well no, you wouldn't be.
WALLY: I mean.... And my dreams are sort of different, and I feel a little bit different when I get up in the morning.
ANDRE: I wouldn't put an electric blanket on for anything. First, I'd be worried I might get electrocuted. No, I don't trust technology. But I mean the main thing, Wally, is that I think that that kind of comfort just separates you from reality in a very direct way.
WALLY: You mean...
ANDRE: I mean, if you don't have that electric blanket, and your apartment is cold, and you need to put on another blanket or go into the closet and pile up coats on top of the blanket you have, well then you know it's cold. And that sets up a link of things: you have compassion for the p...well, is the person next to you cold? Are there other people in the world who are cold? What a cold night! I like the cold, my God, I never realized, I don't want a blanket, it's fun being cold, I can snuggle up against you even more because it's cold! All sorts of things occur to you. Turn on that electric blanket and it's like taking a tranquilizer, it's like being lobotomized by watching television. I think you enter the dream world again. I mean, what does it do to us, Wally, living in an environment where something as massive as the seasons or winter or cold don't in any way affect us? I mean, we're animals after all. I mean, what does that mean? I think that means that instead of living under the sun and the moon and the sky and the stars we're living in a fantasy world of our own making.
WALLY: Yeah, but I mean, I would never give up my electric blanket, André. I mean, because New York is cold in the winter, I mean, our apartment is cold. It's a difficult environment! I mean, our lives are tough enough as it is, I'm not looking for ways to get rid of the few things that provide relief and comfort, I mean, on the contrary! I'm looking for more comfort, because the world is very abrasive, I mean, I'm trying to protect myself, because really there are these abrasive beatings to be avoided everywhere you look.
ANDRE: Yeah, but Wally, don't you see that comfort can be dangerous? I mean, you like to be comfortable and I like to be comfortable, too. But comfort can lull you into a dangerous tranquility. I mean, my mother knew a woman, Lady Hatfield, who was one of the richest women in the world, and she died of starvation because all she would eat was chicken. I mean, she just liked chicken, Wally, and that was all she would eat, and actually, her body was starving but she didn't know it 'cause she was quite happy eating her chicken and so, she finally died! See, I honestly believe that we're all like Lady Hatfield now, we're having a lovely, comfortable time with our electric blankets and our chicken, and meanwhile we're starving because we're so cut off from contact with reality that we're not getting any real sustenance. 'Cause we don't see the world. We don't see ourselves. We don't see how our actions affect other people. Have you read Martin Buber's book On Hasidism?
WALLY: No.
ANDRE: Oh, well here's a view of life! I mean, he talks about the belief of the Hasidic Jews that there are spirits chained in everything. There are spirits chained in you, there are spirits chained in me. Well! There are spirits chained in this table! And that prayer is the action of liberating these enchained embryo-like spirits, and that every action of ours in life, whether it's doing business or making love, or having dinner together, whatever, that every action of ours should be a prayer, a sacrament in the world.
Now, do you think we're living like that? Why do you think we're not living like that? I think it's because if we allowed ourselves to see what we do every day we might just find it too nauseating. I mean, the way we treat other people. I mean, you know, every day, several times a day, I walk into my apartment building, the doorman calls me Mr. Gregory and I call him Jimmy. All right, what's the difference between that and the southern plantation owner whose got slaves? You see, I think that an act of murder is committed in that moment when I walk into that building. You know, because here's a dignified, intelligent man, a man of my own age, and when I call him Jimmy then he becomes a child and I'm an adult because I can buy my way into the building!
WALLY: Right. That's right. I mean, my God! When I was a Latin teacher, I mean, people used to treat me, I mean, you know, if I would go to a party of professional or "literary" people, I mean, I was just treated, in the nicest sense of the word, like a dog! I mean, in other words, there was no question of my being able to participate on an equal basis in the conversation with people. I mean, you know, I'd occasionally have conversations with people, but then when they asked what I did, which would always happen after about five minutes, you know, their faces--I mean, even if they were enjoying the conversation, or they were flirting with me or whatever it was, you know, their faces would just have that expression just like the portcullis crashing down, you know, those medieval gates? They would just walk away! I mean, I literally lived like a dog. And I mean, when Debby was working as a secretary, you know, if she would tell people what she did, they would just go insane! I mean, it would be just as if she'd said: "Oh, well! I've been serving a life sentence recently for child murdering!" [Laughter at another table.]