E. M. Forester's novel, A Passage to India, is what I would place in the category of ticklish as far as a text to teach when talking about India's history of the British Empire and the Raj, especially when the audience is the high school students at the Antwerp International School, or AIS, in Antwerp, Belgium.
A few years ago I was hired as a long-term substitute teacher for the English and Theory of Knowledge component at AIS for the IB program/me there. As a result, by and large, the texts and subjects were already chosen and I had never read the novel, so it was going to be a new experience for me as well. Forester was heavily criticized and shunned by both sides of the equation when he wrote his controversial piece.
On the one hand, he was shunned not only for his personal lifestyle as a homosexual, but also because he painted a rather bleak picture of how the British treated the Indians, both upper and lower classes. On the other hand, he was criticized for taking the position of the Indians, or at least showing their perspectives as Hindus, Muslims, and Jains. His crime? He was an outsider to both societies, so both societies felt he did not have the right to speak his voice. He was not for the British and he wasn't Indian by birth, so he was doomed by the public to be an authorial mongrel, a literary slumdog.
One of the more scathing portraits of the British Raj is Orwell's first novel, Burmese Days, a highly-depressing tableau of the English in Southeast Asia, portending the end of the Empire to say the least. However, it is a rather more concise essay called, "Shooting an Elephant" that captures quite vividly the impossibility of the situation.
Orwell was a mid-level civil servant, young and away from his native England, stationed as police officer in Burma when an elephant goes on a rampage in the village. As the officer of the law, and symbol of the "power," Orwell is faced with an impossible decision. When the elephant is finally tracked down and cornered, its "rampage" is over. However, by this point the entire village has become excited and is waiting to see what Orwell will do. His choices are: don't shoot the elephant and loose the respect and fear of the indigenous population; or, shoot and "innocent" animal and doom it to a slow, painful death. Surrounded by the mob, Orwell makes a decision, he shoots the elephant.
In Forester's novel, there is a running motif of the fact that when one visits India, the trip is not "complete" until you ride an elephant. All of the people back in India will have one burning question upon your return from the sub-continent, "Did you ride an elephant?" Cultural and societal expectations run deep when you travel, both from those whom you have left behind, and with those whose culture you are visiting. In A Passage to India, the Indians feel obliged to supply an elephant ride at some point for the visitors, both parties knowing how staged the event actually is.
The student body of AIS is rather unique. Because Antwerp is the world's diamond clearing house (at least 75% of all of the world's diamonds pass through it), the private school caters to the diamond industry, specifically Indian diamond cutters and traders. Roughly half of the population is made up of these diamond families from India. The other half of the student population is mostly British, South African, Belgian, and Dutch. From that group, there is also a portion of families who are part of the diamond trade as well.
When reading A Passage to India, there are some rather "ticklish" situations in which an Indian is condemned of doing something unsavory to a British woman in a series of caves, which were supposed to be part of an excursion, including, elephants. The court case becomes a highly divisive event in the town and between the British and the Indians and within the Hindu and Muslim communities it is both divisive and cohesive against a common enemy.
We watched a part of David Lean's epic rendition of the novel, and I was surprised to see who plays the most educated Indian in the story, Professor Godbole, (a sort of Voltairian Pangloss), Alec Guinness. I found this a bit odd, sort of a British blackface role. I asked the students if they found it odd that a white guy was made up to be an educated Indian professor, as if there were not enough Indians to find to fill the role.
The response was guarded, and for the most part, the "white" students found no problem at all, while the Indians seemed uneasy. I let it go for the moment, and later in the novel's discussion a few days later, we got to the more controversial part of the novel that got Forester in trouble by both sides of the story, the idea that perhaps Britain should leave India. Looking at my student composition, I could not let this go, and asked the question of what they thought about the partition. Again, very guarded response. For the most part, the "white" kids shrugged, and the Indians tried not to engage.
Finally, the tension broke, the elephant in the room was shot. One of the wealthiest female students in the room, (her family owns one of the largest diamond companies in the world), blurted out, "my grandfather was a slave during the Raj empire." At that point, all the Indians began to relate similar stories, at which the "white" kids, more or less, gaped with disbelief. They had no idea. When the movie Blood Diamonds had come out a few years before, apparently there had been a similar, "huh???" as these kids did not know about this aspect of the diamond business. And, more recently, when I was teaching there, "Slumdog Millionaire" came out and many of the more wealthy Mumbai students, mired in denial, said, "That is not India!"
We are often put in such situations, whether willingly or not, when facing other cultures because there are so many "ticklish" political, social, economic, or otherwise questions that we are often either aware of and in denial about, or completely oblivious to until confronted by the elephant in the room. It is highly likely that the "white" kids' grandparents or great-grandparents were those who "owned" the great-grandparents and grandparents of the now, über-rich Indian kids. The ensuing discussion got pretty heated to say the least because once the elephant was shot, there was nothing to do but to examine the corpse.
These kids will soon be leading these large diamond companies, both Indian and non. They, like ourselves, will continue to face their own elephants, just as I will soon face, both literally and figuratively when I journey to India as a "white" guy. Although I am an American, I will nonetheless be seen as a part of the West, and as a westerner, I will be traveling to the East. I imagine that I will encounter some "ticklish" situations and have to make decisions with regards to whether I take a metaphorical or physical elephant ride, or not.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Saturday, July 23, 2011
The Integrity of the Pose
Recently I wrote about the concept of guru parampara, or a lineage of teachers. Without my teachers in life, I would be nothing, that much I know. Within the interstices of Indra's Web I will be paying homage to these teachers, whether directly or indirectly, who are the ones in my life that have shaped me to be the person that I am today. I am forever grateful for them, even if I have never met them.
Guru parampara extends into the discipline of Yoga as well. And, this entire Indra's Net would be remiss in its scope if I omitted my Iyengar Yoga teacher, Bekir Algan.
Bekir is a controversial teacher to say the least. He is human, he has his faults. I am not putting him on a pedestal as that would be disrespectful to everything that he taught me. What he did teach me, however, is the most important lesson of my life--the Integrity of the Pose.
Bekir holds a PhD in civil engineering and is of Turkish origin from the town of Ismir, Turkey. He is a persona non grata of Turkey for refusing to join the military, and as far as I know, has not and/or cannot return to the country of his birth, though he still speaks of Turkey daily. Most of his family died while he was in the States, but he was not allowed to return for their funerals. This does not make him a "better" person, but perhaps sheds light on him as a person.
I was a student of Bekir for nearly a decade and became a teacher of Iyengar under him for about half of that time. Although I fell off my practice for several years, I have returned to a daily practice of Yoga at some level and plan to teach once again. I will be taking daily Yoga lessons while in India as well as part of my program there.
There was the phrase, "the Integrity of the Pose" that Bekir had inherited from previous teachers that has since become crucial to well-being of the core of my mind and body. Bekir's own guru parampara is via Gabriella Giubilaro from Florence, Italy and who herself studied directly under B.K.S. Iyengar, the namesake of this type of yoga. There are several strains of yoga: hatha, kripala, bikram, ashtanga, iyengar, and others. This is not a plug for Iyengar, it is just the style that has worked for me best. I respect the adherents of other schools of thought, but Iyengar spoke to me physically, philosophically, spiritually, and because of Bekir.
Iyengar Yoga focuses on precision and uses "props" to help even a beginner get into the most difficult asana, or pose. It requires an extremely high level of participation from the teacher with every student in the class. An uninvolved Iyengar teacher is no teacher at all. In addition, it involves physical contact and is highly demanding on working with partners, something that is a major turn-off for many. Again, to each his or her own. I am not an evangelist. Iyengar is not for everyone.
In a typical Iyengar class with Bekir, someone would cry, someone would have a "breakdown" of emotions, someone might storm out the door, someone would openly criticize Bekir about what an ass he could be (Gabriella made Bekir look like a little puppy dog), or someone would, as Bekir would say with his gap-toothed grin, "see Jesus." There were epiphanies to be sure in his class.
Bekir would also drone on endlessly in class about, well, just about anything...kind of like Socrates and his horses. And, kind of like Socrates and his horses, if Bekir talked one more time about Red Snapper, people wanted to kill him. What many failed to notice is that during Bekir's monologues, our bodies were resetting, forgetting about how hard the pose we had just been in was. He fed off of the class and its energy. Some classes would mostly be talking. People would bitch endlessly about him, though, at any time, you may leave if you wish.
The Integrity of the Pose was when one was in the most difficult part of the pose. What do you do? Some yoga poses are extremely demanding physically, but also mentally. They can make you cry, cry like you have never cried before. You don't know where it comes from, but it comes from a very, very deep core. The Integrity is what you do with that awareness.
There are a few things that usually happen when you are turned upside down for example. People hold their breath. They get angry. They leave the room. They would curse Bekir (or whomever was the teacher). And so on.
Integrity is the "wholeness" of something. The integers that make up the sum. It is who you are.
In a difficult pose, the integrity was how you reacted. Bekir said that you should treat personal relationships like a yoga pose, you come out of them the way that you go into them, with integrity. During the pose, you may be frustrated, hurt, angry, but when you learn to breath, to let the pose become you, then you can regain integrity, breath, and release.
Today would have been the physical anniversary of a marriage that I have been in for a long time, but that time has passed. Had it not been for Bekir, I don't know if I could have maintained the integrity of the pose.
It is how I will be going into the next pose, India, with this in mind.
Namaste, Bekir.
Guru parampara extends into the discipline of Yoga as well. And, this entire Indra's Net would be remiss in its scope if I omitted my Iyengar Yoga teacher, Bekir Algan.
Bekir is a controversial teacher to say the least. He is human, he has his faults. I am not putting him on a pedestal as that would be disrespectful to everything that he taught me. What he did teach me, however, is the most important lesson of my life--the Integrity of the Pose.
Bekir holds a PhD in civil engineering and is of Turkish origin from the town of Ismir, Turkey. He is a persona non grata of Turkey for refusing to join the military, and as far as I know, has not and/or cannot return to the country of his birth, though he still speaks of Turkey daily. Most of his family died while he was in the States, but he was not allowed to return for their funerals. This does not make him a "better" person, but perhaps sheds light on him as a person.
I was a student of Bekir for nearly a decade and became a teacher of Iyengar under him for about half of that time. Although I fell off my practice for several years, I have returned to a daily practice of Yoga at some level and plan to teach once again. I will be taking daily Yoga lessons while in India as well as part of my program there.
There was the phrase, "the Integrity of the Pose" that Bekir had inherited from previous teachers that has since become crucial to well-being of the core of my mind and body. Bekir's own guru parampara is via Gabriella Giubilaro from Florence, Italy and who herself studied directly under B.K.S. Iyengar, the namesake of this type of yoga. There are several strains of yoga: hatha, kripala, bikram, ashtanga, iyengar, and others. This is not a plug for Iyengar, it is just the style that has worked for me best. I respect the adherents of other schools of thought, but Iyengar spoke to me physically, philosophically, spiritually, and because of Bekir.
Iyengar Yoga focuses on precision and uses "props" to help even a beginner get into the most difficult asana, or pose. It requires an extremely high level of participation from the teacher with every student in the class. An uninvolved Iyengar teacher is no teacher at all. In addition, it involves physical contact and is highly demanding on working with partners, something that is a major turn-off for many. Again, to each his or her own. I am not an evangelist. Iyengar is not for everyone.
In a typical Iyengar class with Bekir, someone would cry, someone would have a "breakdown" of emotions, someone might storm out the door, someone would openly criticize Bekir about what an ass he could be (Gabriella made Bekir look like a little puppy dog), or someone would, as Bekir would say with his gap-toothed grin, "see Jesus." There were epiphanies to be sure in his class.
Bekir would also drone on endlessly in class about, well, just about anything...kind of like Socrates and his horses. And, kind of like Socrates and his horses, if Bekir talked one more time about Red Snapper, people wanted to kill him. What many failed to notice is that during Bekir's monologues, our bodies were resetting, forgetting about how hard the pose we had just been in was. He fed off of the class and its energy. Some classes would mostly be talking. People would bitch endlessly about him, though, at any time, you may leave if you wish.
The Integrity of the Pose was when one was in the most difficult part of the pose. What do you do? Some yoga poses are extremely demanding physically, but also mentally. They can make you cry, cry like you have never cried before. You don't know where it comes from, but it comes from a very, very deep core. The Integrity is what you do with that awareness.
There are a few things that usually happen when you are turned upside down for example. People hold their breath. They get angry. They leave the room. They would curse Bekir (or whomever was the teacher). And so on.
Integrity is the "wholeness" of something. The integers that make up the sum. It is who you are.
In a difficult pose, the integrity was how you reacted. Bekir said that you should treat personal relationships like a yoga pose, you come out of them the way that you go into them, with integrity. During the pose, you may be frustrated, hurt, angry, but when you learn to breath, to let the pose become you, then you can regain integrity, breath, and release.
Today would have been the physical anniversary of a marriage that I have been in for a long time, but that time has passed. Had it not been for Bekir, I don't know if I could have maintained the integrity of the pose.
It is how I will be going into the next pose, India, with this in mind.
Namaste, Bekir.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Guru Geneaology
In Sanskrit, there is a term to denote the lineage of teachers, known as guru parampara, which means, "the succession of teachers (guru)" and is quite important. For, if the teacher of your teacher was important, that somehow makes you important, or at least means you better do something with what you learn.
When I completed my PhD at The University of Texas at Austin with a degree in Comparative Literature, the advisor who had to sign off on my final semester looked at all of the Sanskrit that I had taken as it did not directly "relate" to my main focus, James Joyce. She looked at me, and quite deprecatingly said, "Sanskrit, what are you going to do with Sanskrit?" Wow.
OK, aside from feeling rather insulted, and having left thinking, "Wasn't I supposed to just be congratulated for finishing a PhD in near-record time and also having learned Sanskrit, as a sidenote?" Nope, the question was, Why Sanskrit?
While I was at The University of Texas at Austin, my two primary Sanskrit teachers were Richard Lariviere, who is now the President of the University of Oregon in Eugene, and Patrick Olivelle, who is perhaps one of the world's greatest living Sanskrit translators, and is Oxford Press's primary Sanskritist.
I am in awe of both of them beyond words. Olivelle, who is originally from Sri Lanka, despite his western name, is truly a phenomenon. He literally has reams of verses memorized from multiple texts.
I worked under Lariviere and Olivelle and his wife, Suman (who is likewise a Sanskrit guru) for three years during graduate school on a manuscript collation project for the Laws of Manu. Olivelle and Lariviere had accumulated about 1500 either whole or partial variant manuscripts of the text from around India and throughout time, ranging from nearly contemporary to several hundreds years. I was one of the readers for the manuscripts and would spend hours every day reading the manuscripts and making notations in a notebook where variations occurred, and then what the variation was, etc.
After all of these were done over a period of more than a decade, Olivelle collated them and translated the text.
Sanskrit ended up being either directly or indirectly responsible for nearly half of my employment opportunities in the past fifteen years, directly thanks to Patrick Olivelle and Richard Lariviere. Both of them supreme gurus and I am honored to be part of their lineage as a student. Some teachers you will always be students of, and these are two of the greatest.
Both of them have told me for years that I needed to go to India, so honoring that, I will soon let them know that day has come.
When I completed my PhD at The University of Texas at Austin with a degree in Comparative Literature, the advisor who had to sign off on my final semester looked at all of the Sanskrit that I had taken as it did not directly "relate" to my main focus, James Joyce. She looked at me, and quite deprecatingly said, "Sanskrit, what are you going to do with Sanskrit?" Wow.
OK, aside from feeling rather insulted, and having left thinking, "Wasn't I supposed to just be congratulated for finishing a PhD in near-record time and also having learned Sanskrit, as a sidenote?" Nope, the question was, Why Sanskrit?
While I was at The University of Texas at Austin, my two primary Sanskrit teachers were Richard Lariviere, who is now the President of the University of Oregon in Eugene, and Patrick Olivelle, who is perhaps one of the world's greatest living Sanskrit translators, and is Oxford Press's primary Sanskritist.
I am in awe of both of them beyond words. Olivelle, who is originally from Sri Lanka, despite his western name, is truly a phenomenon. He literally has reams of verses memorized from multiple texts.
I worked under Lariviere and Olivelle and his wife, Suman (who is likewise a Sanskrit guru) for three years during graduate school on a manuscript collation project for the Laws of Manu. Olivelle and Lariviere had accumulated about 1500 either whole or partial variant manuscripts of the text from around India and throughout time, ranging from nearly contemporary to several hundreds years. I was one of the readers for the manuscripts and would spend hours every day reading the manuscripts and making notations in a notebook where variations occurred, and then what the variation was, etc.
After all of these were done over a period of more than a decade, Olivelle collated them and translated the text.
Sanskrit ended up being either directly or indirectly responsible for nearly half of my employment opportunities in the past fifteen years, directly thanks to Patrick Olivelle and Richard Lariviere. Both of them supreme gurus and I am honored to be part of their lineage as a student. Some teachers you will always be students of, and these are two of the greatest.
Both of them have told me for years that I needed to go to India, so honoring that, I will soon let them know that day has come.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
The Dead Amongst Us
T. S. Eliot's "The Waste Land" has quite a number of Sanskrit references, most blatantly with the well-known ending of the repetition of "Shantih, Shantih, Shantih." "Shantih" means as its primary meaning, "peace," but the triplicate usage of it was a standard way to end a prayer in the Vedic and Upanshadic traditions, which Eliot was quite aware, being a man of tradition and talent himself.
In "The Waste Land," there is a line that reminds me of a few things, amongst them, is a picture from National Geographic many years ago of a train station platform in India. I tried to look it up online, as I do not have the magazines currently at my disposal, but it left an indelible image on my mind. It is a busy platform (perhaps in Dehli?), filled with commuters packed into a train, blurred by motion. In the foreground, the corpse of a man is on the ground, passed by without even a single person looking down. Eliot describes the commuters going to work in London,
In "The Waste Land," there is a line that reminds me of a few things, amongst them, is a picture from National Geographic many years ago of a train station platform in India. I tried to look it up online, as I do not have the magazines currently at my disposal, but it left an indelible image on my mind. It is a busy platform (perhaps in Dehli?), filled with commuters packed into a train, blurred by motion. In the foreground, the corpse of a man is on the ground, passed by without even a single person looking down. Eliot describes the commuters going to work in London,
| Unreal City, | 60 |
| Under the brown fog of a winter dawn, | |
| A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many, | |
| I had not thought death had undone so many. | |
| Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled, | |
| And each man fixed his eyes before his feet. |
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Why India?
Being a six-foot, athletic-build, blonde turning to white-haired caucasian American who spent the greater part of his life living in Austin, Texas, an obvious question has come up, "Why India?" It will be pretty glaring that "I ain't from around there."
So, why India?
Let me count the ways. Sitting down the other day while still in Antwerp, thinking about my upcoming journey to Madurai, I made a list of connections that I have had with India, either directly or indirectly, beginning with my introduction to the sub-continent in second grade by Shagufta B., who I will now add, I think was my first "kid crush." As it may be remembered from my previous post, I already had "Shagufta Cooties" according to my white-guy friends, so why not embrace my fate? I thought that Shagufta was a very sweet girl, with nerves of steel to be in such a different environment.
Briefly, here is what I came up with in about all of fifteen minutes (meaning, didn't have to dig too deeply), all of which I will be elaborating upon in future posts, or have already done so in the preamble to the formal welcome to "Indra's Net" a few days ago.
A distinct disclaimer, however, I feel is due here. I am not so naive as to think that India will be anything like what I mention below, or any of the blogs postings that I make before I actually arrive in India. I have met too many people, either from India or who have lived and worked in India, to know that India is beyond all expectations for better or for worse. I know that nothing will truly "prepare" me for that experience.
With that small disclaimer, these are self-admitted and acknowledged preconceptions and incidental or tangental ideas and experiences that I have had about or around the concept of "India." Before going into a new experience, I have found it best to Know Thyself , and to fully acknowledge to oneself such preconceptions and/or expectations.
So, here they are, in no real order...
So, why India?
Let me count the ways. Sitting down the other day while still in Antwerp, thinking about my upcoming journey to Madurai, I made a list of connections that I have had with India, either directly or indirectly, beginning with my introduction to the sub-continent in second grade by Shagufta B., who I will now add, I think was my first "kid crush." As it may be remembered from my previous post, I already had "Shagufta Cooties" according to my white-guy friends, so why not embrace my fate? I thought that Shagufta was a very sweet girl, with nerves of steel to be in such a different environment.
Briefly, here is what I came up with in about all of fifteen minutes (meaning, didn't have to dig too deeply), all of which I will be elaborating upon in future posts, or have already done so in the preamble to the formal welcome to "Indra's Net" a few days ago.
A distinct disclaimer, however, I feel is due here. I am not so naive as to think that India will be anything like what I mention below, or any of the blogs postings that I make before I actually arrive in India. I have met too many people, either from India or who have lived and worked in India, to know that India is beyond all expectations for better or for worse. I know that nothing will truly "prepare" me for that experience.
With that small disclaimer, these are self-admitted and acknowledged preconceptions and incidental or tangental ideas and experiences that I have had about or around the concept of "India." Before going into a new experience, I have found it best to Know Thyself , and to fully acknowledge to oneself such preconceptions and/or expectations.
So, here they are, in no real order...
- A presentation I did on Rasa, or taste/flavor in Indian arts in Graduate School
- The teachings of Krishnamurti
- The misconception of Karma, and how that plays a part in my novel, Instant Karma Koffie
- The Vivekacudamani of Shri Acharyashankara, or, Advaita Vedanta
- A paper I wrote on Shakespeare as the English Kalidasa, not Kalidasa as the Indian Shakespeare
- The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy
- Reading/Translating the first chapter of Kalidasha's kavya masterpiece, the Raghuvamsa
- The usage of Sanskrit in Joyce's Finnegans Wake
- The concept of the boddhisattva embodied as Avalokateshvara in Indian art/sculpture
- Working for 3 years on a manuscript collation project under Patrick Olivelle and Richard Lariviere for a critical edition of the Laws of Manu
- Having Olivelle and Lariviere as my Sanskrit gurus
- The The Razor's Edge by Sommerset Maugham
- Bertolucci's Little Buddha
- Kipling's Rikki-Tikki Tavi and The Jungle Books
- My grandfather in India for World War II
- Iyengar Yoga, and Bekir Algan, my instructor
- Indian Philosophy course with Stephen Phillips
- Reading Hermann Hesse's Siddhartha during several stages of my own life
- A photo from National Geographic that I have never forgotten
- Shagufta's presentation in elementary school
- All of my India students, especially Devi
- The teachings of Siddhartha Gautama, the Buddha
- The art of the Natyasashtra dance
- T.S. Eliot's "The Waste Land"
- Indian music, including Bollywood and classical
- The non-violence message of Gandhi
- Translating and reading the Gita
- The caves of Elephanta and Ajanta
- Languages:Sanskrit , Tamil , and Hindi
- Teaching primarily Indian Students at AIS, in Antwerp
- The Dhammapada
- Zen
- The concept of the boddhisattva
- The architecture
- Mark Southern
- Don Davis
- Edgar Polome
- Bekir Algan
- Indus Valley Script
- Kitaro in concert
- Dead Can Dance, The Host of Seraphim, Baraka
- Indian food experiences, Dublin, Austin, Antwerp...
- The concept of Dharma in life
- Reincarnation and Samsara, the cycle of life
- E.M. Forester's A Passage to India
- My Indian colleagues from work
- Nick, my best friend in Graduate School
- Nagarjuna
- Om mani padme, ...hum...
- Tattvamasi
- Namaste
These are some of the concepts, people, and experiences that I will be bringing with me to India, to make comparisons, learn new visions on life, or just to see what is to be seen.
I hope that you will enjoy hearing about these and the real things once I am there.
Namaste
Friday, July 15, 2011
vanakam, en peeru Robert
Greetings, my name (is) Robert.
On August 22nd I will be boarding a plane in Brussels to fly overnight into Mumbai's Chatrapati Shivaji airport. From there, I plan to visit the caves of Elephanta for a day trip, and then back to the airport to fly southwards.
Madurai, Tamil Nadu, is my ultimate destination for this journey and the primary language is Tamil. Tamil is a Dravidian language, and is one of the oldest languages continuously spoken on the planet. The populations of the sub-continent of India are often divided by two major language groups: Dravidian and Indo-European-Aryan. The latter were the result of the proto-Sanskrit, mostly likely equestrian Aryans, who presumably descended from the Caucasian Steppes some time around 1500 BCE, bringing with them the religion of the Vedas and a dominant language, which became Sanskrit.
From the Sanskrit language, the principle languages of Hindi, Urdu, and Farsi evolved as modern languages spoken today in India. The main Dravidian languages are found in the southern part of the sub-continent, specifically Kerala, Tamil Nadu, Andhra Pradesh, and Shri Lanka where Malayalam, Tamil, and Telugu are the primary languges respectively. These language are not related to Sanskrit, however, but they have incorporated both Sanskrit-based words as well as English words from the British Empire. Tamil, for the most part, however, has resisted this assimilation the greatest.
Tamil and Hindi will be the 10th and 11th languages that I have either formally or informally studied, beginning with Spanish in the second grade at Wilder Elementary school in Louisville, Kentucky. India will be the fourth country (US, Belgium, and Italy) that I have lived in. The first time that I was conscious of a place called "India" was in fact, in the second grade at Wilder Elementary school in Louisville, Kentucky.
There was a young Indian girl named Shagufta B. (I will withhold the name on privacy) who was a shy girl, though always had a smile on her face. Being ignorant and immature young American boys who had never met someone from India, much less with a "funny" name like Shagufta, we did what kids do, we mocked her. I was a rather sensitive kid, guess still am on some levels, and I felt really bad about this, and tried to disuade it, so I had "Shagufta Cooties" to the derisive delight of my fellow classmates. Shagufta not only had "girl cooties," she had "Indian-girl-with-'funny'-name cooties." As we all know, kids can be cruel. Yet, I always like to add, that is often learned behavior. This was the period in which Louisville was also the first major city to implement non-segregated busing amongst schools, and that lead to pointing out differences in skin color. And, although Shagufta was not African-American (Blacks was the term used in the 70s), she did stand out for her skin color.
We had a couple of students from other countries in the class, and our teacher, Ms. Rose, had these students present on their "homeland." I can still vividly see the map of India and how it was pointed out that it was entirely, literally, on the other side of the globe from Louisville, Kentucky. That, for all intents and purposes, blew my 7 year-old mind.
I was in Wilder for a few years, but then we moved to the arid Panhandle of Texas, seemingly as far away from the grassy meadows of Kentucky as India. I am not sure what happened to those other kids, where they ended up. Although I am no longer on Facebook, I re-activated it the other day and tracked down Shagufta as she still has her maiden name, along with an anglo surname. She is a very striking woman now with a very confident look on her face. She seems to have survived the immaturity of her male peers from Wilder. I sent her a note to let her know that that seemingly innocuous presentation stayed with me. India has never really left my mind, for what it's worth. I stayed on FB for a couple of days, though did not receive a note back, but I hope that she is indeed doing well.
Thanks Shagufta.
namaste
On August 22nd I will be boarding a plane in Brussels to fly overnight into Mumbai's Chatrapati Shivaji airport. From there, I plan to visit the caves of Elephanta for a day trip, and then back to the airport to fly southwards.
Madurai, Tamil Nadu, is my ultimate destination for this journey and the primary language is Tamil. Tamil is a Dravidian language, and is one of the oldest languages continuously spoken on the planet. The populations of the sub-continent of India are often divided by two major language groups: Dravidian and Indo-European-Aryan. The latter were the result of the proto-Sanskrit, mostly likely equestrian Aryans, who presumably descended from the Caucasian Steppes some time around 1500 BCE, bringing with them the religion of the Vedas and a dominant language, which became Sanskrit.
From the Sanskrit language, the principle languages of Hindi, Urdu, and Farsi evolved as modern languages spoken today in India. The main Dravidian languages are found in the southern part of the sub-continent, specifically Kerala, Tamil Nadu, Andhra Pradesh, and Shri Lanka where Malayalam, Tamil, and Telugu are the primary languges respectively. These language are not related to Sanskrit, however, but they have incorporated both Sanskrit-based words as well as English words from the British Empire. Tamil, for the most part, however, has resisted this assimilation the greatest.
Tamil and Hindi will be the 10th and 11th languages that I have either formally or informally studied, beginning with Spanish in the second grade at Wilder Elementary school in Louisville, Kentucky. India will be the fourth country (US, Belgium, and Italy) that I have lived in. The first time that I was conscious of a place called "India" was in fact, in the second grade at Wilder Elementary school in Louisville, Kentucky.
There was a young Indian girl named Shagufta B. (I will withhold the name on privacy) who was a shy girl, though always had a smile on her face. Being ignorant and immature young American boys who had never met someone from India, much less with a "funny" name like Shagufta, we did what kids do, we mocked her. I was a rather sensitive kid, guess still am on some levels, and I felt really bad about this, and tried to disuade it, so I had "Shagufta Cooties" to the derisive delight of my fellow classmates. Shagufta not only had "girl cooties," she had "Indian-girl-with-'funny'-name cooties." As we all know, kids can be cruel. Yet, I always like to add, that is often learned behavior. This was the period in which Louisville was also the first major city to implement non-segregated busing amongst schools, and that lead to pointing out differences in skin color. And, although Shagufta was not African-American (Blacks was the term used in the 70s), she did stand out for her skin color.
We had a couple of students from other countries in the class, and our teacher, Ms. Rose, had these students present on their "homeland." I can still vividly see the map of India and how it was pointed out that it was entirely, literally, on the other side of the globe from Louisville, Kentucky. That, for all intents and purposes, blew my 7 year-old mind.
I was in Wilder for a few years, but then we moved to the arid Panhandle of Texas, seemingly as far away from the grassy meadows of Kentucky as India. I am not sure what happened to those other kids, where they ended up. Although I am no longer on Facebook, I re-activated it the other day and tracked down Shagufta as she still has her maiden name, along with an anglo surname. She is a very striking woman now with a very confident look on her face. She seems to have survived the immaturity of her male peers from Wilder. I sent her a note to let her know that that seemingly innocuous presentation stayed with me. India has never really left my mind, for what it's worth. I stayed on FB for a couple of days, though did not receive a note back, but I hope that she is indeed doing well.
Thanks Shagufta.
namaste
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Ashes, again
(Note: I had planned on writing about Gandhi today regardless, but after yesterday's bombing in Mumbai, his message is unfortunately even more pressing and poignant than ever. My heart goes out to those who died in Mumbai and to those friends and loved ones they left behind in the wake of yet again, senseless violence. May they rest in peace.)
Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, aka Mahãtmã, the grand soul, has become synonymous with the independence of India. Today, I picked up my visa for my journey to India, where I will be flying into Mumbai in a month and moving southwards to Madurai, where the Gandhi memorial museum is, and where I intend to be on October 2 to honor his birthday. It is because of his thoughts and actions that that visa reads "Bhãrata Ganarajya," the Republic of India. The sub-continent of India has gone through many reincarnations over the centuries including the Aryan Invasion, Ashok's Buddhist Empire, the Mughal Dynasty responsible for building the Taj Mahal, and most recently as a colony of the United Kingdom.
Gandhi, went to study law in London and returned to his India where he took up the cause for her independence. He is recognized for donning the dhoti, or loin cloth of the working class, the symbol of India's poverty. He was a main voice in the Quit India movement, a non-violent protest of the British occupation of India.
Gandhi's concept of non-violence stems from the Bhagavad Gita's idea of ahimsa, the doctrine of not harming another sentient being. The Gita is a complicated story in that the protagonist, Arjuna, is in the middle of a civil war in which he sees friends, brothers, and cousins on both sides, poised for battle, ready to kill each other.
Arjuna sits down dejectedly in the middle of the battlefield, throws down his bow and arrows, and refuses to fight. He asks his charioteer, who is no less than the embodiment of Krishna, what he should do. How can he fight his friends and relatives?
Krishna gives him a difficult answer. Arjuna must fight because he is a kshatriya, a warrior. It is his dharma, or duty, to do so. Krishna tells him that he must not weep for those who will or have died. It is all temporal in the grand scheme of things. Our mortal sufferings are inconsequential to the universe as a whole. Time is greater than us all. Time is the destroyer, creator, and preserver: Shiva, Brahma, and Vishnu all in one.
However, the Gita is also the greatest pre-Buddhist source of ahimsa, non-violence. It is an acknowledgment on the one hand that there is violence in the world, but it is not ours to add to it. A paradox to be sure. Arjuna is troubled, but does agree to fulfill his dharma and fight.
Gandhi is said to have read the Gita daily and produced a 1929 translation of it into his native Gujarati. From his philosophical guidance, India became independent from Britain, without a war of independence. An unprecedented event in world history.
Unfortunately, as with the Gita's acknowledgment, there is violence in the world. Gandhi was assassinated by a Hindu-radical who blamed Gandhi for concessions to Pakistan. Pakistan and India have in the meanwhile become nuclear-armed enemies and the bombings in Mumbai three years ago were attributed to Pakistani militants.
No group has either claimed, nor denied involvement in yesterday's fatal bombings in Mumbai. It is a visceral reminder of Gandhi's plea for non-violence, but a stark reminder that this world does indeed have violence and we cannot shut our eyes to it. Dharma does not allow that.
Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, aka Mahãtmã, the grand soul, has become synonymous with the independence of India. Today, I picked up my visa for my journey to India, where I will be flying into Mumbai in a month and moving southwards to Madurai, where the Gandhi memorial museum is, and where I intend to be on October 2 to honor his birthday. It is because of his thoughts and actions that that visa reads "Bhãrata Ganarajya," the Republic of India. The sub-continent of India has gone through many reincarnations over the centuries including the Aryan Invasion, Ashok's Buddhist Empire, the Mughal Dynasty responsible for building the Taj Mahal, and most recently as a colony of the United Kingdom.
Gandhi, went to study law in London and returned to his India where he took up the cause for her independence. He is recognized for donning the dhoti, or loin cloth of the working class, the symbol of India's poverty. He was a main voice in the Quit India movement, a non-violent protest of the British occupation of India.
Gandhi's concept of non-violence stems from the Bhagavad Gita's idea of ahimsa, the doctrine of not harming another sentient being. The Gita is a complicated story in that the protagonist, Arjuna, is in the middle of a civil war in which he sees friends, brothers, and cousins on both sides, poised for battle, ready to kill each other.
Arjuna sits down dejectedly in the middle of the battlefield, throws down his bow and arrows, and refuses to fight. He asks his charioteer, who is no less than the embodiment of Krishna, what he should do. How can he fight his friends and relatives?
Krishna gives him a difficult answer. Arjuna must fight because he is a kshatriya, a warrior. It is his dharma, or duty, to do so. Krishna tells him that he must not weep for those who will or have died. It is all temporal in the grand scheme of things. Our mortal sufferings are inconsequential to the universe as a whole. Time is greater than us all. Time is the destroyer, creator, and preserver: Shiva, Brahma, and Vishnu all in one.
However, the Gita is also the greatest pre-Buddhist source of ahimsa, non-violence. It is an acknowledgment on the one hand that there is violence in the world, but it is not ours to add to it. A paradox to be sure. Arjuna is troubled, but does agree to fulfill his dharma and fight.
Gandhi is said to have read the Gita daily and produced a 1929 translation of it into his native Gujarati. From his philosophical guidance, India became independent from Britain, without a war of independence. An unprecedented event in world history.
Unfortunately, as with the Gita's acknowledgment, there is violence in the world. Gandhi was assassinated by a Hindu-radical who blamed Gandhi for concessions to Pakistan. Pakistan and India have in the meanwhile become nuclear-armed enemies and the bombings in Mumbai three years ago were attributed to Pakistani militants.
No group has either claimed, nor denied involvement in yesterday's fatal bombings in Mumbai. It is a visceral reminder of Gandhi's plea for non-violence, but a stark reminder that this world does indeed have violence and we cannot shut our eyes to it. Dharma does not allow that.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
And So, He Left
In 1895, Jiddhu Krishnamurti, usually known simply as Krishnamurti, or by "K" amongst friends was born into a Telagu-speaking, orthodox Brahmin family in the vicinity of Chennai (formerly Madras), the capital city of the Tamil Nadu province in southern India. Krishnamurti had a delicate disposition and was an interminable dreamer, losing himself in his thoughts and daydreams on a regular basis, often to the annoyance of others.
Krishnamurti had a gift though. He was an eloquent speaker and yet also a profound listener. This gift was not lost on the people he met. As a fourteen year-old boy, Krishnamurti was "discovered" by C.W. Leadbeater, a close associate of Mrs. Annie Besant, the sitting President of the American-founded Theosophical Society (1875), which had moved headquarters to Adyar. The Society was a comparative religion organization which followed the occult teaching of Madame Blavatsky, (whose writing played a significant part in Joyce's Finnegans Wake, albeit mockingly).
The purpose of the Society was to prepare the world for a World Teacher, an incarnation of the Maitreya, or "Buddha of the Future," a Boddhisattva. Unlike the historical Buddha, who achieved Nirvana in his lifetime, the Boddhisattva is enlightened, but chooses to remain in the cycle of life and death, remaining as a teacher for others. Nirvana being literally an "extinguishing" of the cycle of rebirths, or Samsara, like a candle that had been re-lit, but is blown out for good, Nirvana leads to the void, Sunnyata, neither good nor evil, beyond both of them.
Krishnamurti was the "chosen" One for the Society, he was the World Teacher, the Boddhisattva, the Maitreya. As such, he was groomed for the position and duty, fulfilling it quite easily and the Theosophical Society grew exponentially under the promise of a New Hope. Krishnamurti was indeed the incarnation of Lord Krishna himself, as the name implied, meaning literally, the "embodiment of Krishna." Like the Historical Buddha, Siddhartha, however, his goal was not attained. He had no inner peace.
At the age of 29, Krishnamurti called a general assembly of the Theosophical Society Order of the Star in the East, of which he was the head. By this time, Krishnamurti had gained an international reputation as truly the World Teacher, the eastern Messiah had come.
With anticipation, the audience awaited Krishnamurti's announcement, hoping that he would finally accept the designation of the World Teacher, once and for all. The Society would flourish, would become the World Religion.
Standing stoically in front of all of his friends, colleagues, devotees, students, and mentors, Krishnamurti made his announcement. He disbanded the Theosophical Society, denouncing all organized religion as conduits to corruption and promoting FEAR. Fear for Krishnamurti was the source of all suffering, causing even the desire that the Buddha had taught to release. With fear, people are paralyzed. With fear, anger arises. With fear, competition becomes acrid and destructive, not constructive. With fear, children could not learn.
Krishnamurti left the Order, and it disbanded. For the next 50 years, Krishnamurti divided his time between Ojai, Californian and India, giving informal talks and taking any questions about any topic, to which he would speak to, without fear, independent of any organization or religion.
His favorite audience was with children, to which he dedicated a great deal of his energy to speaking out against the futility of using fear as an instrument of education. Instead, he listened to the children.
And so, he left.
Krishnamurti had a gift though. He was an eloquent speaker and yet also a profound listener. This gift was not lost on the people he met. As a fourteen year-old boy, Krishnamurti was "discovered" by C.W. Leadbeater, a close associate of Mrs. Annie Besant, the sitting President of the American-founded Theosophical Society (1875), which had moved headquarters to Adyar. The Society was a comparative religion organization which followed the occult teaching of Madame Blavatsky, (whose writing played a significant part in Joyce's Finnegans Wake, albeit mockingly).
The purpose of the Society was to prepare the world for a World Teacher, an incarnation of the Maitreya, or "Buddha of the Future," a Boddhisattva. Unlike the historical Buddha, who achieved Nirvana in his lifetime, the Boddhisattva is enlightened, but chooses to remain in the cycle of life and death, remaining as a teacher for others. Nirvana being literally an "extinguishing" of the cycle of rebirths, or Samsara, like a candle that had been re-lit, but is blown out for good, Nirvana leads to the void, Sunnyata, neither good nor evil, beyond both of them.
Krishnamurti was the "chosen" One for the Society, he was the World Teacher, the Boddhisattva, the Maitreya. As such, he was groomed for the position and duty, fulfilling it quite easily and the Theosophical Society grew exponentially under the promise of a New Hope. Krishnamurti was indeed the incarnation of Lord Krishna himself, as the name implied, meaning literally, the "embodiment of Krishna." Like the Historical Buddha, Siddhartha, however, his goal was not attained. He had no inner peace.
At the age of 29, Krishnamurti called a general assembly of the Theosophical Society Order of the Star in the East, of which he was the head. By this time, Krishnamurti had gained an international reputation as truly the World Teacher, the eastern Messiah had come.
With anticipation, the audience awaited Krishnamurti's announcement, hoping that he would finally accept the designation of the World Teacher, once and for all. The Society would flourish, would become the World Religion.
Standing stoically in front of all of his friends, colleagues, devotees, students, and mentors, Krishnamurti made his announcement. He disbanded the Theosophical Society, denouncing all organized religion as conduits to corruption and promoting FEAR. Fear for Krishnamurti was the source of all suffering, causing even the desire that the Buddha had taught to release. With fear, people are paralyzed. With fear, anger arises. With fear, competition becomes acrid and destructive, not constructive. With fear, children could not learn.
Krishnamurti left the Order, and it disbanded. For the next 50 years, Krishnamurti divided his time between Ojai, Californian and India, giving informal talks and taking any questions about any topic, to which he would speak to, without fear, independent of any organization or religion.
His favorite audience was with children, to which he dedicated a great deal of his energy to speaking out against the futility of using fear as an instrument of education. Instead, he listened to the children.
And so, he left.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Two?
svapne 'rthashunye srjati svashktyã
bhoktrãdivishvam mana eva sarvam/
tathaiva jãgratyapi no vishesha-
statsarvametanmanaso vijrmbhanam//
In dreams devoid of purpose, the mind of the dreamer creates the entire universe by its own power/
Thus, also in the waking state, there is no distinction; and all of this is an extension of the mind//
Shri Shankarãcãrya, Vivekacudamani, 170
The domination of the Vedas has persisted throughout history. However, there have been challenges and tributaries of thought. As an oral culture, the Aryans handed down their knowledge via the system of smriti (memory) and shruti (auricular transmission). Panditãh, (or in English "pundits" (experts)) of the Vedas would memorize large sections and in turn pass them along to the next generation, for thousands of years.
Shankara has come to be known as one of the progenitors of Advaita Vedanta, literally "the non-dualism of the end of the Vedas." This was the philosophical and spiritual innovation to end all philosophical and spiritual innovations. It was the Finnegans Wake of Indian thought, and Shankara's Vivekacudamani was a force to be reckoned with, keeping the professors and pundits busy for centuries.
The driving concept of Advaita, or non-dualism is pretty simple--the Atman, (aka, the soul or psyche) of the Universe is not distinct from the perceived individual Atman of "You" and "I." Simply put, there is no "You" nor "I." Those distinctions are products of a disillusioned mind, finding differences rather than connections. Synthetic versus analytic.
Shankara's philosophy, however, is not for the meek, nor is it for everyone, yet it is for everyone, reminding one of the sub-title to Nietzsche's Also Sprach Zarathustra: ein Buch für Alle und Keinen, a book for all and none alike. This was no easy lifting, and Shankara makes it quite clear that only a student steeped in the Vedas, Upanishads, and Commentaries, combined with a Yoga of the mind and body, complemented by a proper guru, or teacher, can approach this thought successfully. (NB: being a brahmin, Shankara adds that one must also be a male, sign of the times.)
The highest revelation that the Atman, the soul can obtain is to see that the individual is inextricably part of the whole, it is the whole. There are no parts. To become "one with the universe" is likewise a falsehood, as there was never a sundering, only an illusion of it.
Shankara's Advaita Vedanta has come down as one of the most challenging systems of thought in all of philosophy, with proponents and opponents both in the East and the West with most notably and most recently Shri Aurobindo of Kolkutta taking on the role of both.
Monday, July 11, 2011
You May Leave if You Wish
There are four traditional varnas, or castes initiated by the Vedic system: brãhmin (priestly), kshatriya (warrior/princely), vaishya (merchant), and the shudra (laborer). Being a religious-based culture, the Aryans were at the behest of the brãhmins and their Vedic religion, which centered around devotions, oblations, and sacrifices to a number of deities.
Siddhartha Gautama was a noble kshatriya, destined to be a great king, greater than his father. However, the prophecy of a mendicant holy man said otherwise, namely that he would be a teacher, which highly disappointed his father's ambitions for his royal offspring. This could not be so.
Siddhartha thus lived a princely life, without sorrow, without suffering, a kept man with all the luxuries of the world at his feet, so long as he remained within the confines of the illustrious palace, which itself was purged of suffering, sickness, and even old age by order of the king. Siddhartha lived a charmed life.
Upon breaking the curfew of bliss imposed upon him by his father, Siddhartha set out to see what was beyond the gates of paradise, disobeying his father, as children often do. Siddhartha saw, in succession, a sick man, a dying man, a corpse being cremated, and a wandering ascetic. Siddhartha left his home, his wealth, a wife and child, knowing that they would all be taken care of, even without him.
Having wandered for many years, gaining recognition of mystical powers of concentration and spiritual awareness, Siddhartha, whose name means "the one who has attained his goal" had not yet attained his goal. He was still hungry, his heart, soul, and mind full of desire. Desire for what? Desire...
In deep, profound meditation, Siddhartha experienced the dissolution of Mãyã, or cosmic illusion, and saw the universe for what it was, he gazed upon the void, and he saw... Upon awakening from this meditation, he soon became known as the Buddha, the "one who has awakened." But to what, and from what?
The Buddha, as with Socrates (who was to come a century later) and Jesus (another four centuries after Socrates), did not write, but he spent the last 45 years of his life fulfilling the prophecy of his destiny, he became a teacher. However, as with many great teachers, he did not want blind devotion, he wanted self-actualization and self-discipline, which could only be done by, you guessed it, your-self.
The deer park at Sarnath and Vulture Peak were to become two well-known classrooms for the teachings of the Buddha, from the Buddha himself. Wary of zealot devotees, the Buddha insisted that his words alone were not enough, you, yourself had to do the hard work.
To reach the state of Enlightenment, it was necessary to do only one thing, to rid yourself of material desire, the hunger for external relief of suffering. Suffering was none other than this thirst, desire to be satiated, because slaking the thirst was transitory, ephemeral. It would come back, with greater longing than before if one had not taken care of one's self, the atman, the soul, first.
To live then, without suffering, to become enlightened, was up to the individual, no deity would help, no deus ex machina, no easier and softer way would work. Right thought, right action, right speech and a deliberate choice of living the Middle Way, devoid of extremes and desires, could open the pathway towards enlightenment, but you have to walk the path alone.
To such a call, many decried, "It's too much to ask. I cannot do this! You, the Buddha, must save me. Tell me an easier way."
To this, the Buddha is said to have responded, "You May Leave if You Wish."
Siddhartha Gautama was a noble kshatriya, destined to be a great king, greater than his father. However, the prophecy of a mendicant holy man said otherwise, namely that he would be a teacher, which highly disappointed his father's ambitions for his royal offspring. This could not be so.
Siddhartha thus lived a princely life, without sorrow, without suffering, a kept man with all the luxuries of the world at his feet, so long as he remained within the confines of the illustrious palace, which itself was purged of suffering, sickness, and even old age by order of the king. Siddhartha lived a charmed life.
Upon breaking the curfew of bliss imposed upon him by his father, Siddhartha set out to see what was beyond the gates of paradise, disobeying his father, as children often do. Siddhartha saw, in succession, a sick man, a dying man, a corpse being cremated, and a wandering ascetic. Siddhartha left his home, his wealth, a wife and child, knowing that they would all be taken care of, even without him.
Having wandered for many years, gaining recognition of mystical powers of concentration and spiritual awareness, Siddhartha, whose name means "the one who has attained his goal" had not yet attained his goal. He was still hungry, his heart, soul, and mind full of desire. Desire for what? Desire...
In deep, profound meditation, Siddhartha experienced the dissolution of Mãyã, or cosmic illusion, and saw the universe for what it was, he gazed upon the void, and he saw... Upon awakening from this meditation, he soon became known as the Buddha, the "one who has awakened." But to what, and from what?
The Buddha, as with Socrates (who was to come a century later) and Jesus (another four centuries after Socrates), did not write, but he spent the last 45 years of his life fulfilling the prophecy of his destiny, he became a teacher. However, as with many great teachers, he did not want blind devotion, he wanted self-actualization and self-discipline, which could only be done by, you guessed it, your-self.
The deer park at Sarnath and Vulture Peak were to become two well-known classrooms for the teachings of the Buddha, from the Buddha himself. Wary of zealot devotees, the Buddha insisted that his words alone were not enough, you, yourself had to do the hard work.
To reach the state of Enlightenment, it was necessary to do only one thing, to rid yourself of material desire, the hunger for external relief of suffering. Suffering was none other than this thirst, desire to be satiated, because slaking the thirst was transitory, ephemeral. It would come back, with greater longing than before if one had not taken care of one's self, the atman, the soul, first.
To live then, without suffering, to become enlightened, was up to the individual, no deity would help, no deus ex machina, no easier and softer way would work. Right thought, right action, right speech and a deliberate choice of living the Middle Way, devoid of extremes and desires, could open the pathway towards enlightenment, but you have to walk the path alone.
To such a call, many decried, "It's too much to ask. I cannot do this! You, the Buddha, must save me. Tell me an easier way."
To this, the Buddha is said to have responded, "You May Leave if You Wish."
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Ashes
upa tvãgne dive-dive
doshãvastar, dhiyã vayam/
namo bharanta emasi//
One day at a time, O Agni,
Who illuminates darkness, we come to you/
In contemplation, bringing homage//
One of two (along with Indra) principal deities of the Rig Veda is Agni, the anthropomorphism of Fire, who figures most prominently within the religious culture of the priestly-governed Aryans who moved southwards into what is presently called the sub-continent of India, physically displacing the indigenous populations, assimilating portions of their languages, and implementing a new culture and belief system based upon the caste system of varnas, which originally means "colors." From the Aryans, a descendent form of a proto-Indo-Eurpean language, known prophetically as Samskrita "the perfected," was introduced into that part of the globe with a roughly estimated time of arrival: 1500 BCE. This is known as the beginning of the Vedic Period.
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