“Deep in the sea are riches beyond compare.
But if you seek safety, it is on the shore.”
Saadi. Rose Garden
Tomb of the Diver at Paestum
“Nasrudin, ferrying a pedant across a piece of rough water, said something ungrammatical to him. ‘Have you never studied grammar?’ asked the scholar.
‘No.’
‘Then half of your life has been wasted.’
A few minutes later Nasrudin turned to the passenger.
‘Have you ever learned how to swim?’
‘No. Why?’
‘Then all your life is wasted — we are sinking!’”
The game of Quaternity is clearly defined by the boundaries of the board, the number of squares, and the specific arrangement of the pieces in their starting positions. It is further structured by the movement patterns of the pieces, their assigned roles, and, ultimately, the rules that provide the framework for play. Yet beyond this structured form, behind this seemingly rigid display, lies something vast—an open sea, an immense ocean waiting to be perceived.
But to truly grasp it, one must step in, dive deep, forget oneself, and, if bold enough, dare to become the sea. In that vastness, you cannot exist as a separate entity—it is either you or it; there is no room for both. At first, you may only skim the surface, struggling to stay afloat, resisting the pull of the depths. With time and growing confidence, after some experimentation, you might dip your head beneath the surface, open your eyes, and begin to glimpse what lies beneath. Then, perhaps, you will let yourself sink gently and realize that not only is there no danger, but there is an entire universe waiting to be explored.
However, such immensity can be daunting, especially for those unaccustomed to deep waters. A friend who frequently engages in this game captured the essence of this experience with remarkable clarity:
"I think Quaternity has a revealing quality in that it immediately exposes the knots that tether us to the shore. When we recognize them, we are faced with a choice: either justify them, tightening them further, or untie them and dive into the depths—where there is no guarantee of finding pearls right away."
Or in the words of K.S. Perl:
“…Yet inside the magnificent ocean are great currents in constant motion, taking those fish who learn to let go on an incredible journey… The knowledge and ocean wisdom that can be gained from these deeper strata are overlooked by the many.”
What does it take to persuade someone standing on the shore, their feet barely touching the water, to take the plunge into the sea?
There must be a deep-seated desire to venture into the unknown—a thirst for discovery, for witnessing something new and extraordinary. Perhaps it is the certainty of having already seen all that the land has to offer (or at least enough to lose interest in more of the same). Above all, there must be an absence of fear, that great immobilizer.
Additionally, the potential swimmer must have heard whispers of the treasures hidden beneath the waves. Something in those ancestral, perhaps even epic, tales must have resonated with a distant memory within them. That echo, faint yet persistent, might have stirred a longing—a desire to explore, to reclaim something long lost.
Perhaps this longing was sparked by a simple yet profound sentence read somewhere, a phrase that struck a chord within.
“The difference between all evolution up to date and the present need for evolution is that for the past ten thousand years or so we have been given the possibility of a conscious evolution. So essential is this more rarefied evolution that our future depends upon it. It can be called ‘learning how to swim’, in the words of our fable.”
Or this one:
“...This ‘secret’, the method of effecting the transition, was nothing more or less than the knowledge of maritime skills and their application. The escape needed an instructor, raw materials, people, effort and understanding. Given these, people could learn to swim, and also to build ships.”
Or even this one:
“...This book is about some of the swimmers and builders of ships, and also about some of the others who tried to follow them, with more or less success. The fable is not ended, because there are still people on the island.”
Idries Shah. The Sufis. The Islanders/ The elephant in the dark
However, beyond fear, there are other barriers that can prevent someone from stepping forward—real internal obstacles that not only distort their perception of the situation but also obscure their true potential for growth and transformation.
—Unfounded prejudices rooted in ignorance:
“…Most of the fish near to the surface ignore these lower depths of the ocean. They have come to the opinion that nothing of consequence can be found there; or nothing of importance can be learnt there. All the fun and excitement belong to the ocean surface."
K. S. Perl. Own your Truth.
— Assumptions:
“…Here and there a candidate still presented himself to a swimming instructor, to make his bargain. Usually what amounted to a stereotyped conversation took place.
‘I want to learn to swim.’
‘Do you want to make a bargain about it?’
‘No. I only have to take my ton of cabbage.’
‘What cabbage?’
‘The food which I will need on the other island.’
‘There is better food there.’
‘I don’t know what you mean. I cannot be sure. I must take my cabbage.’
‘You cannot swim, for one thing, with a ton of cabbage.’
‘Then I cannot go. You call it a load. I call it my essential nutrition.’
‘Suppose as an allegory, we say not “cabbage”, but “assumptions”, or “destructive ideas”?’
‘I am going to take my cabbage to some instructor who understands my needs.’"
Idries Shah. The Sufis. The Islanders
—Attachment to familiarity:
“…Western readers of this book will all know the story of Hans Christian Andersen, generally called the tale of the Ugly Duckling. The duckling thought that it was ugly; and so it was, seen from the point of view of the ducks. All ended well, because it was discovered that he was a swan. The germ of this story is to be found in Jalaluddin Rumi’s Mathnawi, where a point is stressed which has been lost in the Danish version, aimed at a different audience. Rumi tells his hearers that they are ‘ducks, being brought up by hens’. They have to realise that their destiny is to swim, not to try to be chickens.”
Idries Shah. The Sufis. Miracles and Magic
And perhaps the most difficult obstacle to eradicate is the:
—Identification with the secondary self:
“…Perhaps you do not want to lose your ‘identity’, that illusion that means so much to Western man. You have no identity! You are a faceless wanderer through the corridors of time, with no intrinsic value and no right to progress merely because of the accident of your birth. You earn your place in the sun or forever sit in the shadow of your ‘identity’! Know yourself by dedication, and when you have done that you can and will absorb yourself gladly into the matrix of Truth.”
Rafael Lefort. The Teachers of Gurdjieff.
And perhaps the most challenging obstacle to overcome is:
—Identification with the secondary self.
Overcoming this requires a delicate balance of two essential elements:
The effective removal of inner limitations and barriers that keep us bound to old patterns.
The continuous nurturing of genuine aspiration—that inner flame that drives us toward higher goals and the ongoing pursuit of self-betterment.
The highest goal a human being can strive for is to understand the true purpose of their existence and to align with their essential being.
But what connection exists between playing this game and exploring the deeper dimensions of perception? Perhaps we need to take a step back and recognize where we currently stand in relation to our own awareness. Maybe what is required is a quantum leap—a shift that unlocks a broader perspective, allowing us to see beyond our habitual limitations.
Or, to put it another way:
“…The coherent, linear thinker has to make a jump of energetic attention to grasp things which lie beyond the reach of his sequentially-operating brain alone. His education has to take a new turn, when he is ready for it.”
Idries Shah. A Perfumed Scorpion.
The following phrases were originally said about chess, but how much more profoundly do they apply to Quaternity:
“…About a thousand years ago, the Persian writer, scholar, and theologian Abul-Qasim ar-Raghib al-Isfahani (who died in 1108) wrote a treatise on the ethics of Shatranj. (Chess)
“In Shatranj, everything depends on the player and the player alone; he needs the passion of the avenger, the energy of the explorer, the determination of the jumper, the readiness of one who is eager.”
Yuri Averbakh. A History of Chess. From Chaturanga to the Present Day.
So, friends, if you are still debating whether to play or not to play, to dive or not to dive, to explore or not to explore, remember the words of the English poetess Kathleen Raine:
“Jump, there's nowhere to land...”
And here's a old warning from Bob Dylan:
🎶 «...And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You’ll be drenched to the bone
If your time to you is worth savin’
Then you better start swimmin’ or you’ll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin’...» 🎶
♛♔
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