The final portion of The Story of Siddhartha states that a miracle is something unexpected–something we can’t understand. This implies that a miracle is also not necessarily a pleasant occurence, for it may even be a good one masked by unfortunate circumstances. For example, one may jump to the rather simple conclusion that because Siddhartha experienced the horror of losing his mother at only a week old, that this hardship is precisely why he broke the literal and figurative confines which led to him leaving the palace. So, then, is the death of Siddhartha’s mother a miracle? True, it was unexpected, and not accepted or understood by the then-unenlightened Siddhartha. But this wound which would eventually lead to his escape from the material life was under no circumstances considered a happy or miraculous occasion. The miracle, in actuality, was Siddhartha’s escape, and eventually jolt into enlightenment, while his early loss, however staggering, was the “match that lit the fuse” in the case of The Buddha’s enlightenment.
“Tune as the sitar, neither low nor high, and we shall dance out the hearts of men.”
This particular quote, of all of Siddhartha’s words of wisdom presented in The Story of Siddhartha, has lingered on a figuartive pedestal in my mind as one of the most insightful and artistically movated of them all. Generally, the sitar in and of itself is not regarded as an instrument of balance or clarity, as it produces notes which many in the musical community consider to be exotic (in the sense that they cannot be reproduced by the human voice. This is not to say that I take this quote referring to the sitar at face value–in fact, I found a stark resemblance of this trait of the instrument to that of the human experience. It is something that we as a population can attempt to, but can scarcely put our finger on. It is strange, noisy and unclear, but balance (with the right measure of will and patience) can be acheived via both devices.
While the sitar is concrete, however, life and emotional (as well as spiritual) harmonies, are abstract and undefined. As one who finds reason in music where reason in life often seems difficult to encounter, I can surmise that balance can surely be acheived in both areas. My quest, as in any human quest for balance, must be embarked upon with perhps not such a hefty goal, but one with a foundation of smaller tasks and principles which can then be expanded into larger and more definitive ones. Such are the ever elusive notes of the sitar.
I was most intrigued by Plato’s Allegory of the Cave upon reading this chapter, as it led me to ponder one of lives most simple-sounding, yet difficult to answer, questions regarding human nature: does instant gratification rival the satisfaction of winning a hard-earned prize (cocrete or not)? In this scenario, Plato attempts to determine whether or not a human being who is used to the absorbing the residues of life’s experiences would be open to the possibility of living them firsthand. This question led me to prompt several others, in a flood of which I find difficult to control even when typing this response, such as whether or not a hard-working businessman can resist a double-or-nothing offer after receiving a year’s pay, or if the anticipation that a bungee-jumper to be feels as he faces the ledge would be enough to stop him from taking the plunge. Does human nature truly favor instant gratification, and does anticipation rival the experience itself? The more I mull over these questions, the more I consider that these are not solely questions of human nature, but of any given person’s motivations determinations of what it means to live an optimally happy life.
In the case of The Allegory of the Cave, for example, the chained people in the cave are used to living in a world of perpetual entertainment and stimuli, but in darkness nonetheless. Does this “happiness box-esque life” rival that which all of the people in the cave would be obligated to experience should one choose to exit the cave? Alas, an informed desicion cannot be made from this predicament, as those in the cave are not aware of the extinstance of any of the other people in the cave, and therefore unable to consider the consequences of commiting others to their still unkonown fate. All of these considerations, it seems may encourage one to keep their eyes closed to the outside of this metaphorical cave. But suppose this person decides to exit the cave and face all of the pleasures that the outer world has to offer. Would they therefore be oblivious to the pain that comes with a relinquishment of the sheer shadows of life and accepting the full-blown images? As odd as it may seem, I cannot determine whether or not I would be willing to make such sacrifices in order to acheive such utter happiness, as the true pangs and pains of life have yet to rear their ugly heads my way. Sure, everyone suffers despair, but to the extent of which they cannot know until they have experienced ture, unbridled suffering.
Still, my curiousity leads me to continue to wonder, is ultimate happiness within my reach, and if so, is it worth the risk of experiencing ultimate pain? As for this question, I suppose I’ll just have to continue on with life in hopes of one day learning enough about myself to decide to (and perhaps ultimately) take the plunge into the unhindered life.
Another question that I have since posed to myself upon viewing this portion of the film is whether or not Siddhartha had to starve himself in order to feel renewed upon eating the bowl of rice which was presented to him. After all, shouldn’t one’s life be based on savoring every moment that is granted to them, simply because they have been given that much more time to experience the joys of life? If Siddhartha had not starved himself to the point of near death, however, one may propose that his renewal upon eating the rice may not have granted him the same spiritual awakening that it actually did. However, the essence of Siddhartha’s renewal (and subsequently, his foray in Buddhism) is not simply based on his need to eat after becoming emaciated. It is the act of the woman who offers him the rice which inspires him to delve deeper into his early quest to discover the meaning of life.
Though his mentors in the acsetic community had offered him verbal advice, never before had an act of pure selflessness and generosity been shown to the former prince who had been raised in such a selfish and entitled community. Where Siddhartha had once been horrified upon seeing a starving man though a sheltered royal’s eyes, when the tables had been turned, salvation had been presented to him in the most simplistic, yet beautiful way imaginable. This woman had not only given him a bowl of rice, but in her transfer of sustainance, the gift of generosity, and of life, which Siddhartha had come so close to losing at this point in his life. One may go so far as to say that the rice lit a fire inside of him which remained lit and steady in all of his teachings, as his strength and will returned to him in that meal. Then, the realized that depravity would not lead him to enlightenment, but perhaps faith and selflessness would. So, I can surmise, it was not his starvation or minute lack thereof after eating the rice which motivated the Buddha, but the lessons that he took from the woman’s act of sheer kindness.
The second portion of “The Story of Siddhartha” examines his ventures into asceticism, self-deprivation and utter simplicity in order to acheive spiritual cleanliness and serenity. Ascetics, both of the time and of today, go through their lives with this belief that Siddhartha followed for a number of years in his own. Though spiritual cleanliness is indeed something to aspire to, it is not my philosophy that one should push their physical and mental state to the point of both inward and outward torture. Indeed, The Buddha would later teach of the mandate that is life’s balance–that excersicing any type of extreme is not conducive to acheiving nirvana, or a serendipidous state of being. Though not every ascetic advocates self-torture and starvation, the methods of asceticism practiced by those the Buddha followed (and at one point, the Buddha himself) honestly left me moderately uncomfortable and apprehensive towards the ascetic lifestyle.
As someone who has witnessed the tumultuous effects of self-mutilation in my own life, I found it somewhat presumptuous and offensive to surmise that happiness and peace can be reached by harming oneself. In general, I am repulsed by the notion that an act which some people use as a means of relieving true emotional pain, are used in a matter of worship and in order to acheive an inner peace in others. In any case, self-torture has never proven an effective path to God, enlightenment, or coping mechanism, as I, and surely as Siddhartha had discovered long ago. Pain does not lead one to become enmlightened, but surely balance in one’s life does.
In the Buddhist fable, “Four on a Log”, lessons of karma have ample opportunity to present themselves, and so they do, in a clear and comprehensive fashion. For example, though the fable’s Evil Prince has everything which his heart desires, he still wishes for more material possessions and power, and constantly needs the kind, yet empty words and gestures of others in order to assure himself that his well-being comes before all others. Though the prince puts himself before all others because of his title, he finds himself at the same level as the snake, parrot and water rat when he nearly drowns. He is, of course, immediately grateful for his salvation from the water, though not in the least grateful to the holy man who saves his life. The parrot, rat and snake offer the holy man their treasures and prized possessions in gratitude for the holy man’s kindness, but the prince’s promises of fortune are empty, as it angers him that the man feeds the animals before the prince. In the end, the prince pays for his selfishness and cruelty by having to repeat his once doomed samsara. In essence, the principle of karma applies to both the wise man and the prince, though their consequences are in opposition based on their actions in life.
To say that Waking Life is a visual masterpiece is a gross understatement. Each day that we view this film, I find myself enraptured and enveloped in colors, patterns, lines and fluctuations in even the tiniest radius of a person’s cheek, or a figurative acre in the field of their hair. Never before have I been so artistically taken with a film than I was with Julie Taymor’s Across the Universe–a portrait of Beatles-era America battling the Vietnam war and the media’s abstraction of it.
In every shot, I find might myself focusing on a person’s eye–trying to dicipher the visual messages left by each change in color, pattern, filter or opacity. In the next shot, I may decide to focus on how a woman’s hair curls throughout the dreamlike dimensions of the scene, or how–as a man in a bar is telling the story of his encounter with a knife-weilding, drug using attacker–a woman’s cigarette smoke in the background slowly forms a syringe. Artistry lights the match that is otherwise seemingly dull content.
How orange and dark yellow fire forms around a former man, who becomes immediately “mummified” upon torturing himself, as if that dark stain is all he leaves behind on this earth, for people to just look at and walk by without a second thought, for example.
Though it did not shock me that the man torched himself after he asked for a match, it occured to me that perhaps he had a point. No one hears someone talking in a crowd, but they are bound to hear someone yelling. What did shock me, however, was that this yell–this cry to put a stop to pointless political duality–went unnoticed. Why was this man frowned upon–ignored even–when people in uniforms die for their country every day?
Flames swallowed his man whole, both literally and figuratively. So why, then, is it wrong for me to drink in the artistry–the faces, lines, contours, and spaces in between–as a means to help the content be reinforced?
Why, also, is science generally acceptable? Just because one does not solely devote themselves to science does not signify an ignorance or arroganc, but a faith and conviction, even a tolerance. To suggest ignorance is to suggest an inability to understand. This is not so within the general religious population. I defer to both God and science. There are those who defer to either one or the other, as well.
But the world is not black and white. And neither, one can surmise, is ideology or theology, artistry, filmography, or composition. My personal conviction is that these are to be integrated aspects of life, rather than to be compartmentalized. This, I suppose, I can extract from Waking Life itself, as well–evey theory connects to one’s life as a whole, and exists stronger in life and application than solely in theory.
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Genesis…reminding us to take part in our own waking lives.
On the fourteenth, we started watching a documentary about the Buddha and the influence that his teachings had on world culture. From the beginning of the film, I not only observed that I was visually stunning, but I was immediately reminded of the influence that the teahings of Buddhism have on the musical, “Hair”, me being a huge theater geek. Throughout the show, references are made to the Hare Krishna, and also to a concept that was introduced during our first viewing of the film: the concept that if one gives up all material desires, they will be at peace and reach a state of nirvana.
Though I had never truly dismissed this principle of Buddhism, it has always seemed to me that the purpose of life is to have specific goals that one must work toward acheiving. Truly, without goals, isn’t one’s reason for getting up in the morning obliviated because they no longer have anything to do that is worth acheiving? Is the goal of Buddhism simply to attain enlightenment, teach of your experiences, and leave this world?
Then, however, I was left wondering what the differences between desire and purpose are. In the case of Buddhism, desire refers to that which is material, such as a cell phone, or a new pair of boots which one does not need. These desires are those which preoccupy the mind and consume it with thoughts that only involve the item which is longed for. Think about it…if you want a new pair of boots and for one reason or another, cannot have them, the person’s sole priority will be to find a way to get the boots. Once a person’s priorities are out of order, other aspects of their life, such as their time management and patience, will also be off balance.Purpose, one can surmise, is therefore not something withn which the mind is preoccupied, but that which one comes across in the natural course of one’s life, and not simply to acheive immediate gratification.
Finally, I was also struck by the theory that because Siddhartha had lost his mother at a week old, that this profound and deep-rooted sense of tragedy and loss led to Siddhartha’s leaving the palace, and thus leaving behind the luxuries of his early life as Moses left his throne in pursuit of his true identity. Though I fall short of camparing myself to The Buddha or Moses, I suppose I do believe that Siddhartha’s early loss lead to his search for purpose and the origin of suffering. Surely, my grandfather’s death shortly after I was born, and my defiance of medical expectations following my birth has made even me more keenly aware of the fact that I must have my own purpose–which no matter how simple, must be significant.
So today we talked about a human being’s individual purpose in life, and whether of not any one person’s purpose is greater than that of another person. Naturally, I was reminded of this amazing song from “Avenue Q”, depicting young, down in the dumps college-grad, Princeton’s need to find his purpose in life post-college (which I think Christian mentioned today in class). Coincidentally, “Avenue Q” also deals with a person’s quest to scrape the tip of iceberg in terms of the meaning of life (while also shattering everything you thought you knew about the muppets!), with the protagonist, Princeton, realizing that, in the end, it’s the quest, not the answer, that’s important.
Have a listen!
And to answer Princeton’s question, I present to you the philosophy of one Cosmo Kramer of “Seinfeld” fame. Just in case you thought there was something more to life than everyday sketch comedy…there isn’t. Enjoy!
P.S. Going to visit Uncle Rocky after school tomorrow!
