Self-Inquiry with Javier Gómez Rodríguez, October 12, 2025
The conversation began with a consideration of K’s notion of consciousness as the repository of the universal history of humanity. This modulated into a general consideration of the attempt by humanity to cultivate a set of values as a way to transform itself. One of the participants, who seemed to be something of a religious believer, seemed to disagree with the notion that whatever religion and philosophy had tried as a way to transform humanity had not worked and therefore such beliefs and ideals needed to be abandoned. This gentleman, whose background was a mixture of Mennonite Christianity, Buddhism and Jungian psychology, seemed to be at ease with the corridor of the opposites, saying that everything that manifested in us did so for a reason. He felt that the search for wholeness and transformation did not necessitate abandoning one’s religion. He asserted that K had had a great capacity to hold the opposites together. It was then pointed out that K’s approach to the opposites could be illustrated with his typical example of the opposition between ‘what is’ and ‘what should be’. For him the latter, which is usually the opposite of the former, was unreal and therefore it must be dropped. When it is dropped, there is no opposite, only what is. As he said, facts have no opposites. But the gentleman seemed to hold to the view of the complementary of the opposites, saying, for example, that patriarchy was just fine. This found an extension in the later theme of the nature of patriarchy as reflected in our relationships with our own fathers.
The conversation then shifted to the question of the importance of memory in our lives arising from the common phenomenon of dementia and senility. One of the cases mentioned involved a valued acquaintance who had lost his short-term memory and, as a result, though otherwise perfectly lucid, had to be kept a virtual prisoner in the hospital because he simply could not manage his affairs or look after himself. A second case concerned the improved relationship between a son and his father when the latter lost his long-term memory. Their relationship had not been of the best, but with the loss of the past, the son felt he could be closer to his father. This then led to a conversation about our relationships with our fathers. Four of us reported that we had had difficult relationships with our fathers on account of the latter’s aggressive characters.
When the facilitator asked the fifth participant about his father, whether he had been also violent and aggressive, he seemed to find it difficult to answer. As the facilitator kept pushing, the gentleman in question felt he was being placed in rather a vulnerable position and eventually went on the defensive, at which point the facilitator took a step back. Then the participant began to talk about having met his father recently and how his father had, uncharacteristically, not been that aggressive. But even after it was pointed out that he had now answered the question, he seemed not to realize it and kept sidestepping the issue, which made the facilitator wonder what the reason for this avoidance of a direct answer might be.
This exchange between the participant and the facilitator made two of the other participants feel a bit left out of the conversation and even somewhat uncomfortable, as they felt there had been something of a tension, even attack and defense, between them. A third participant did not feel this way at all. She found that the exchange had been significant and had brought out new things for her. The facilitator explained that he had just been trying to establish objectively in the group what the reality of our respective relationships with our fathers had been and how that had conditioned us. That was part of the topic of memory, of how our past remains such a powerful influence in our lives, shaping and often breaking down our relationships. And he added that his intent had been to connect our own shared experiences with the larger theme of consciousness as the stream of suffering and its relationship to memory, leading ultimately to the question as to whether it was possible to empty the psychological content of consciousness.
Unfortunately, this incident happened at the end of the meeting, so we could not round it off properly. Part of the question that was left pending was whether we should question each other in this way or whether we should aim for a less intense atmosphere. The conversation continued in the kitchen over tea, cookies and fresh grapes, which were delicious. The facilitator and the fifth participant resumed their conversation after everyone else left and they carried on for another couple of hours probing together into their lives. It seemed that the afternoon dialogue had raised a number of questions for them. In particular, the facilitator wanted to know more about the fifth participant, who is currently a guest at the Centre. They had had a first meeting yesterday and they agreed to have another one tomorrow afternoon.
Today’s dialogue proved somewhat challenging. Part of the challenge was due to the semantic differences arising from contrasting convictions and points of view. Part was due to the more direct approach to the inquiry taken by the facilitator.
Dialogue is a great and delicate art.
Javier Gómez Rodríguez
