Vichara in Kipling's Kim (and Tennyson){and Carlysle]

[Guest guest]

Dear Rob and David ,

 

The remarkable appearance of Atma Vichara in 19thC English Literature is a

wonder.The most

striking is a very long passage in Thomas Carlyle's Sartor Resartus [a witty

Novel which pokes fun

at German Metaphysics] in Chapter 8 para 5.It is quite long [a page and a half

in the OUP

World's Classics Edition] -but starts "Who am I:what is this Me?.... and there

is a long

meditation which is definately Self Enquiry .I suppose intelligent men and women

do ponder and

question in this way from time to time .Regards and best wishes to you both ,

Alan

 

 

Godman <godmandavid wrote: >  

>

>

> Rob Sacks" <editor

>

> Earlier today I ran across an interesting description of atma vichara in (of

all places!)

> Rudyard Kipling's novel "Kim." In the book, the practice happens to the

protagonist

> spontaneously when he is about sixteen years old -- the same circumstances

under which it

> happened to Ramana Maharshi.

> .

> This book appeared in 1901, the same year that Ramana Maharshi began to

"dictate" the first

> version of the pamphlet "Who Am I" by writing answers to questions in the

sand.

>

> I apologize if I am offending anyone by quoting Kipling here. His works are

offensive in many

> respects. But if God is not too fastidious to use Kipling as a medium,

perhaps we should not be

> too fastidious to take an interest in what he wrote.

> .

> Here's the whole passage:

>

> A very few white people, but many Asiatics, can throw themselves into a

mazement as it were by

> repeating their own names over and over again to themselves, letting the mind

go free upon

> speculation as to what is called personal identity. When one grows older,

the power, usually,

> departs, but while it lasts it may descend upon a man at any moment.

> .

> 'Who is Kim - Kim - Kim?'

> .

> He squatted in a corner of the clanging waiting-room, rapt from all other

thoughts; hands

> folded in lap, and pupils contracted to pin-points. In a minute - in another

half-second he

> felt he would arrive at the solution of the tremendous puzzle; but here, as

always happens, his

> mind dropped away from those heights with a rush of a wounded bird, and

passing his hand before

> his eyes, he shook his head.

> .

> A long-haired Hindu bairagi [holy man], who had just bought a ticket, halted

before him at that

> moment and stared intently.

> .

> 'I also have lost it,' he said sadly. 'It is one of the Gates

> to the Way, but for me it has been shut many years.'

> .

> 'What is the talk?' said Kim, abashed.

> .

> 'Thou wast wondering there in thy spirit what manner of thing thy soul might

be. The seizure

> came of a sudden. I know. Who should know but I? Whither goest thou?'

> .

> From Chapter 11

>

> One thing that stood out for me is the remark that this is happens mainly to

young people.

> Coincidentally, just before I stumbled across this passage, a friend had

written to me that

> people have to start sadhana at a young age in order to experience the Self

directly. All I can

> say is, I hope they are wrong.

>

> The same thing happened to the famous English poet Tennyson around the same

time. He said that

> it was a talent he had had from early childhood, but it didn’t leave him when

he grew up. This

> (from Day by Day, 17th June, 1946) is what happened when Devaraja Mudaliar

read out a

> description of the experience to Bhagavan:

>

> In continuation of yesterday’s conversation about Tennyson, the

relevant passage was

> found in a footnote to the English translation of Upadesa Saram. It was not in

a poem but in a

> letter to B. P. Blood. Bhagavan asked me to read it out, so I did: ‘...a kind

of waking trance I

> have frequently had, quite up from boyhood, when I have been all alone. This

has generally come

> upon me through repeating my own name two or three times to myself, silently,

till all at once,

> as it were out of the intensity of consciousness of individuality, the

individuality itself

> seemed to dissolve and fade away into boundless being: and this is not a

confused state, but the

> clearest of the clearest, the surest of the surest, the weirdest of the

weirdest, utterly beyond

> words, where death was a laughable impossibility, the loss of personality (if

so it were)

> seeming no extinction but the only true life.’

> Bhagavan said: ‘That state is called abidance in the Self. It is

described in a number

> of songs.’

>

>

>

 

=====

Life is a pure flame,and we live

by an invisible Sun within us.

 

 

 

 

 

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[Guest guest]

OM Namo Bhagavathe Sri Ramanaaya

Dear Alan (or anyone)

If you have a scanner would you be able to upload the passage you

quoted to the Files area?

 

anbudan

 

john

 

Siva—Siva

 

RamanaMaharshi, Alan Jacobs

<alanadamsjacobs> wrote:

> Dear Rob and David ,

>

> The remarkable appearance of Atma Vichara in 19thC English

Literature is a wonder.The most

> striking is a very long passage in Thomas Carlyle's Sartor

Resartus [a witty Novel which pokes fun

> at German Metaphysics] in Chapter 8 para 5.It is quite long [a

page and a half in the OUP

> World's Classics Edition] -but starts "Who am I:what is this

Me?.... and there is a long

> meditation which is definately Self Enquiry .I suppose intelligent

men and women do ponder and

> question in this way from time to time .Regards and best wishes to

you both , Alan

>

>

> Godman <godmandavid@r...> wrote: >  

> >

> >

> > Rob Sacks" <editor@r...>

> >

> > Earlier today I ran across an interesting description of atma

vichara in (of all places!)

> > Rudyard Kipling's novel "Kim." In the book, the practice happens

to the protagonist

> > spontaneously when he is about sixteen years old -- the same

circumstances under which it

> > happened to Ramana Maharshi.

> > .

> > This book appeared in 1901, the same year that Ramana Maharshi

began to "dictate" the first

> > version of the pamphlet "Who Am I" by writing answers to

questions in the sand.

> >

> > I apologize if I am offending anyone by quoting Kipling here.

His works are offensive in many

> > respects. But if God is not too fastidious to use Kipling as a

medium, perhaps we should not be

> > too fastidious to take an interest in what he wrote.

> > .

> > Here's the whole passage:

> >

> > A very few white people, but many Asiatics, can throw themselves

into a mazement as it were by

> > repeating their own names over and over again to themselves,

letting the mind go free upon

> > speculation as to what is called personal identity. When one

grows older, the power, usually,

> > departs, but while it lasts it may descend upon a man at any

moment.

> > .

> > 'Who is Kim - Kim - Kim?'

> > .

> > He squatted in a corner of the clanging waiting-room, rapt from

all other thoughts; hands

> > folded in lap, and pupils contracted to pin-points. In a

minute - in another half-second he

> > felt he would arrive at the solution of the tremendous puzzle;

but here, as always happens, his

> > mind dropped away from those heights with a rush of a wounded

bird, and passing his hand before

> > his eyes, he shook his head.

> > .

> > A long-haired Hindu bairagi [holy man], who had just bought a

ticket, halted before him at that

> > moment and stared intently.

> > .

> > 'I also have lost it,' he said sadly. 'It is one of the Gates

> > to the Way, but for me it has been shut many years.'

> > .

> > 'What is the talk?' said Kim, abashed.

> > .

> > 'Thou wast wondering there in thy spirit what manner of thing

thy soul might be. The seizure

> > came of a sudden. I know. Who should know but I? Whither goest

thou?'

> > .

> > From Chapter 11

> >

> > One thing that stood out for me is the remark that this is

happens mainly to young people.

> > Coincidentally, just before I stumbled across this passage, a

friend had written to me that

> > people have to start sadhana at a young age in order to

experience the Self directly. All I can

> > say is, I hope they are wrong.

> >

> > The same thing happened to the famous English poet Tennyson

around the same time. He said that

> > it was a talent he had had from early childhood, but it didn't

leave him when he grew up. This

> > (from Day by Day, 17th June, 1946) is what happened when

Devaraja Mudaliar read out a

> > description of the experience to Bhagavan:

> >

> > In continuation of yesterday's conversation about

Tennyson, the relevant passage was

> > found in a footnote to the English translation of Upadesa Saram.

It was not in a poem but in a

> > letter to B. P. Blood. Bhagavan asked me to read it out, so I

did: `...a kind of waking trance I

> > have frequently had, quite up from boyhood, when I have been all

alone. This has generally come

> > upon me through repeating my own name two or three times to

myself, silently, till all at once,

> > as it were out of the intensity of consciousness of

individuality, the individuality itself

> > seemed to dissolve and fade away into boundless being: and this

is not a confused state, but the

> > clearest of the clearest, the surest of the surest, the weirdest

of the weirdest, utterly beyond

> > words, where death was a laughable impossibility, the loss of

personality (if so it were)

> > seeming no extinction but the only true life.'

> > Bhagavan said: `That state is called abidance in the

Self. It is described in a number

> > of songs.'

> >

> >

> >

>

> =====

> Life is a pure flame,and we live

> by an invisible Sun within us.

>

>

>

>

>

> __________

> Messenger - Communicate instantly..."Ping"

> your friends today! Download Messenger Now

> http://uk.messenger./download/index.html

[Guest guest]

--- Dear John,

 

I haven't a scanner .very active currently but when time and energy arise i will

endeavour to type

it in .

 

Warmest regards , As ever ,Alan

 

 

<bharani wrote: > OM Namo Bhagavathe Sri Ramanaaya

> Dear Alan (or anyone)

> If you have a scanner would you be able to upload the passage you

> quoted to the Files area?

>

> anbudan

>

> john

>

> Siva—Siva

>

> RamanaMaharshi, Alan Jacobs

> <alanadamsjacobs> wrote:

> > Dear Rob and David ,

> >

> > The remarkable appearance of Atma Vichara in 19thC English

> Literature is a wonder.The most

> > striking is a very long passage in Thomas Carlyle's Sartor

> Resartus [a witty Novel which pokes fun

> > at German Metaphysics] in Chapter 8 para 5.It is quite long [a

> page and a half in the OUP

> > World's Classics Edition] -but starts "Who am I:what is this

> Me?.... and there is a long

> > meditation which is definately Self Enquiry .I suppose intelligent

> men and women do ponder and

> > question in this way from time to time .Regards and best wishes to

> you both , Alan

> >

> >

> > Godman <godmandavid@r...> wrote: >  

> > >

> > >

> > > Rob Sacks" <editor@r...>

> > >

> > > Earlier today I ran across an interesting description of atma

> vichara in (of all places!)

> > > Rudyard Kipling's novel "Kim." In the book, the practice happens

> to the protagonist

> > > spontaneously when he is about sixteen years old -- the same

> circumstances under which it

> > > happened to Ramana Maharshi.

> > > .

> > > This book appeared in 1901, the same year that Ramana Maharshi

> began to "dictate" the first

> > > version of the pamphlet "Who Am I" by writing answers to

> questions in the sand.

> > >

> > > I apologize if I am offending anyone by quoting Kipling here.

> His works are offensive in many

> > > respects. But if God is not too fastidious to use Kipling as a

> medium, perhaps we should not be

> > > too fastidious to take an interest in what he wrote.

> > > .

> > > Here's the whole passage:

> > >

> > > A very few white people, but many Asiatics, can throw themselves

> into a mazement as it were by

> > > repeating their own names over and over again to themselves,

> letting the mind go free upon

> > > speculation as to what is called personal identity. When one

> grows older, the power, usually,

> > > departs, but while it lasts it may descend upon a man at any

> moment.

> > > .

> > > 'Who is Kim - Kim - Kim?'

> > > .

> > > He squatted in a corner of the clanging waiting-room, rapt from

> all other thoughts; hands

> > > folded in lap, and pupils contracted to pin-points. In a

> minute - in another half-second he

> > > felt he would arrive at the solution of the tremendous puzzle;

> but here, as always happens, his

> > > mind dropped away from those heights with a rush of a wounded

> bird, and passing his hand before

> > > his eyes, he shook his head.

> > > .

> > > A long-haired Hindu bairagi [holy man], who had just bought a

> ticket, halted before him at that

> > > moment and stared intently.

> > > .

> > > 'I also have lost it,' he said sadly. 'It is one of the Gates

> > > to the Way, but for me it has been shut many years.'

> > > .

> > > 'What is the talk?' said Kim, abashed.

> > > .

> > > 'Thou wast wondering there in thy spirit what manner of thing

> thy soul might be. The seizure

> > > came of a sudden. I know. Who should know but I? Whither goest

> thou?'

> > > .

> > > From Chapter 11

> > >

> > > One thing that stood out for me is the remark that this is

> happens mainly to young people.

> > > Coincidentally, just before I stumbled across this passage, a

> friend had written to me that

> > > people have to start sadhana at a young age in order to

> experience the Self directly. All I can

> > > say is, I hope they are wrong.

> > >

> > > The same thing happened to the famous English poet Tennyson

> around the same time. He said that

> > > it was a talent he had had from early childhood, but it didn't

> leave him when he grew up. This

> > > (from Day by Day, 17th June, 1946) is what happened when

> Devaraja Mudaliar read out a

> > > description of the experience to Bhagavan:

> > >

> > > In continuation of yesterday's conversation about

> Tennyson, the relevant passage was

> > > found in a footnote to the English translation of Upadesa Saram.

> It was not in a poem but in a

> > > letter to B. P. Blood. Bhagavan asked me to read it out, so I

> did: `...a kind of waking trance I

> > > have frequently had, quite up from boyhood, when I have been all

> alone. This has generally come

> > > upon me through repeating my own name two or three times to

> myself, silently, till all at once,

> > > as it were out of the intensity of consciousness of

> individuality, the individuality itself

> > > seemed to dissolve and fade away into boundless being: and this

> is not a confused state, but the

> > > clearest of the clearest, the surest of the surest, the weirdest

> of the weirdest, utterly beyond

> > > words, where death was a laughable impossibility, the loss of

> personality (if so it were)

> > > seeming no extinction but the only true life.'

> > > Bhagavan said: `That state is called abidance in the

> Self. It is described in a number

> > > of songs.'

> > >

> > >

> > >

> >

> > =====

> > Life is a pure flame,and we live

> > by an invisible Sun within us.

> >

> >

> >

> >

> >

> > __________

> > Messenger - Communicate instantly..."Ping"

> > your friends today! Download Messenger Now

> > http://uk.messenger./download/index.html

>

>

>

>

>

> Post message: RamanaMaharshi

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>

> Shortcut URL to this page:

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>

>

>

>

>

 

=====

Life is a pure flame,and we live

by an invisible Sun within us.

 

 

 

 

 

__________

Messenger - Communicate instantly..."Ping"

your friends today! Download Messenger Now

http://uk.messenger./download/index.html

[Guest guest]

Hi John,

 

> If you have a scanner would you be able to upload the passage

> you quoted to the Files area?

 

I was able to find this quickly in electronic form on the Project

Gutenberg website. (By the way, it's pretty easy nowadays to

find complete texts of famous books by typing a quotation from

one of them into Google.)

 

I'll attach the whole chapter below. It comes from "Sartor

Resartorus: The Life and Opinions of Herr Teufelsdrockh" by

Thomas Carlyle (1831).

 

Regards,

 

Rob

................quotation follows......................

 

CHAPTER VIII.

THE WORLD OUT OF CLOTHES.

 

If in the Descriptive-Historical portion of this Volume, Teufelsdrockh,

discussing merely the _Werden_ (Origin and successive Improvement) of

Clothes, has astonished many a reader, much more will he in the

Speculative-Philosophical portion, which treats of their _Wirken_, or

Influences. It is here that thc present Editor first feels the pressure of

his task; for here properly the higher and new Philosophy of Clothes

commences: all untried, almost inconceivable region, or chaos; in

venturing upon which, how difficult, yet how unspeakably important is it to

know what course, of survey and conquest, is the true one; where the

footing is firm substance and will bear us, where it is hollow, or mere

cloud, and may engulf us! Teufelsdrockh undertakes no less than to expound

the moral, political, even religious Influences of Clothes; he undertakes

to make manifest, in its thousand-fold bearings, this grand Proposition,

that Man's earthly interests "are all hooked and buttoned together, and

held up, by Clothes." He says in so many words, "Society is founded upon

Cloth;" and again, "Society sails through the Infinitude on Cloth, as on a

Faust's Mantle, or rather like the Sheet of clean and unclean beasts in the

Apostle's Dream; and without such Sheet or Mantle, would sink to endless

depths, or mount to inane limbos, and in either case be no more."

 

By what chains, or indeed infinitely complected tissues, of Meditation this

grand Theorem is here unfolded, and innumerable practical Corollaries are

drawn therefrom, it were perhaps a mad ambition to attempt exhibiting. Our

Professor's method is not, in any case, that of common school Logic, where

the truths all stand in a row, each holding by the skirts of the other; but

at best that of practical Reason' proceeding by large Intuition over whole

systematic groups and kingdoms; whereby, we might say, a noble complexity,

almost like that of Nature, reigns in his Philosophy, or spiritual Picture

of Nature: a mighty maze, yet, as faith whispers, not without a plan. Nay

we complained above, that a certain ignoble complexity, what we must call

mere confusion, was also discernible. Often, also, we have to exclaim:

Would to Heaven those same Biographical Documents were come! For it seems

as if the demonstration lay much in the Author's individuality; as if it

were not Argument that had taught him, but Experience. At present it is

only in local glimpses, and by significant fragments, picked often at

wide-enough intervals from the original Volume, and carefully collated,

that we can hope to impart some outline or foreshadow of this Doctrine.

Readers of any intelligence are once more invited to favor us with their

most concentrated attention: let these, after intense consideration, and

not till then, pronounce, Whether on the utmost verge of our actual horizon

there is not a looming as of Land; a promise of new Fortunate Islands,

perhaps whole undiscovered Americas, for such as have canvas to sail

thither?--As exordium to the whole, stand here the following long

citation:--

 

"With men of a speculative turn," writes Teufelsdrockh, "there come

seasons, meditative, sweet, yet awful hours, when in wonder and fear you

ask yourself that unanswerable question: Who am I; the thing that can say

'I' (_das Wesen das sich ICH nennt_)? The world, with its loud

trafficking, retires into the distance; and, through the paper-hangings,

and stonewalls, and thick-plied tissues of Commerce and Polity, and all the

living and lifeless integuments (of Society and a Body), wherewith your

Existence sits surrounded,--the sight reaches forth into the void Deep, and

you are alone with the Universe, and silently commune with it, as one

mysterious Presence with another.

 

"Who am I; what is this ME? A Voice, a Motion, an Appearance;--some

embodied, visualized Idea in the Eternal Mind? _Cogito, ergo sum_. Alas,

poor Cogitator, this takes us but a little way. Sure enough, I am; and

lately was not: but Whence? How? Whereto? The answer lies around,

written in all colors and motions, uttered in all tones of jubilee and

wail, in thousand-figured, thousand-voiced, harmonious Nature: but where

is the cunning eye and ear to whom that God-written Apocalypse will yield

articulate meaning? We sit as in a boundless Phantasmagoria and

Dream-grotto; boundless, for the faintest star, the remotest century, lies

not even nearer the verge thereof: sounds and many-colored visions flit

round our sense; but Him, the Unslumbering, whose work both Dream and

Dreamer are, we see not; except in rare half-waking moments, suspect not.

Creation, says one, lies before us, like a glorious Rainbow; but the Sun

that made it lies behind us, hidden from us. Then, in that strange Dream,

how we clutch at shadows as if they were substances; and sleep deepest

while fancying ourselves most awake! Which of your Philosophical Systems

is other than a dream-theorem; a net quotient, confidently given out, where

divisor and dividend are both unknown? What are all your national Wars,

with their Moscow Retreats, and sanguinary hate-filled Revolutions, but the

Somnambulism of uneasy Sleepers? This Dreaming, this Somnambulism is what

we on Earth call Life; wherein the most indeed undoubtingly wander, as if

they knew right hand from left; yet they only are wise who know that they

know nothing.

 

"Pity that all Metaphysics had hitherto proved so inexpressibly

unproductive! The secret of Man's Being is still like the Sphinx's secret:

a riddle that he cannot rede; and for ignorance of which he suffers death,

the worst death, a spiritual. What are your Axioms, and Categories, and

Systems, and Aphorisms? Words, words. High Air-castles are cunningly

built of Words, the Words well bedded also in good Logic-mortar; wherein,

however, no Knowledge will come to lodge. _The whole is greater than the

part_: how exceedingly true! _Nature abhors a vacuum_: how exceedingly

false and calumnious! Again, _Nothing can act but where it is_: with all

my heart; only, WHERE is it? Be not the slave of Words: is not the

Distant, the Dead, while I love it, and long for it, and mourn for it,

Here, in the genuine sense, as truly as the floor I stand on? But that

same WHERE, with its brother WHEN, are from the first the master-colors of

our Dream-grotto; say rather, the Canvas (the warp and woof thereof)

whereon all our Dreams and Life-visions are painted. Nevertheless, has not

a deeper meditation taught certain of every climate and age, that the WHERE

and WHEN, so mysteriously inseparable from all our thoughts, are but

superficial terrestrial adhesions to thought; that the Seer may discern

them where they mount up out of the celestial EVERYWHERE and FOREVER: have

not all nations conceived their God as Omnipresent and Eternal; as existing

in a universal HERE, an everlasting Now? Think well, thou too wilt find

that Space is but a mode of our human Sense, so likewise Time; there _is_

no Space and no Time: WE are--we know not what;--light-sparkles floating

in the ether of Deity!

 

"So that this so solid-seeming World, after all, were but an air-image, our

ME the only reality: and Nature, with its thousand-fold production and

destruction, but the reflex of our own inward Force, the 'phantasy of our

Dream;' or what the Earth-Spirit in _Faust_ names it, _the living visible

Garment of God_:--

 

"'In Being's floods, in Action's storm,

I walk and work, above, beneath,

Work and weave in endless motion!

Birth and Death,

An infinite ocean;

A seizing and giving

The fire of Living:

'Tis thus at the roaring Loom of Time I ply,

And weave for God the Garment thou seest Him by.'

 

Of twenty millions that have read and spouted this thunder-speech of the

_Erdgeist_, are there yet twenty units of us that have learned the meaning

thereof?

 

"It was in some such mood, when wearied and fordone with these high

speculations, that I first came upon the question of Clothes. Strange

enough, it strikes me, is this same fact of there being Tailors and

Tailored. The Horse I ride has his own whole fell: strip him of the

girths and flaps and extraneous tags I have fastened round him, and the

noble creature is his own sempster and weaver and spinner; nay his own

boot-maker, jeweller, and man-milliner; he bounds free through the valleys,

with a perennial rain-proof court-suit on his body; wherein warmth and

easiness of fit have reached perfection; nay, the graces also have been

considered, and frills and fringes, with gay variety of color, featly

appended, and ever in the right place, are not wanting. While I--good

Heaven!-- have thatched myself over with the dead fleeces of sheep, the

bark of vegetables, the entrails of worms, the hides of oxen or seals, the

felt of furred beasts; and walk abroad a moving Rag-screen, overheaped with

shreds and tatters raked from the Charnel-house of Nature, where they would

have rotted, to rot on me more slowly! Day after day, I must thatch myself

anew; day after day, this despicable thatch must lose some film of its

thickness; some film of it, frayed away by tear and wear, must be brushed

off into the Ashpit, into the Laystall; till by degrees the whole has been

brushed thither, and I, the dust-making, patent Rat-grinder, get new

material to grind down. O subter-brutish! vile! most vile! For have not I

too a compact all-enclosing Skin, whiter or dingier? Am I a botched mass

of tailors' and cobblers' shreds, then; or a tightly articulated,

homogeneous little Figure, automatic, nay alive?

 

"Strange enough how creatures of the human-kind shut their eyes to plainest

facts; and by the mere inertia of Oblivion and Stupidity, live at ease in

the midst of Wonders and Terrors. But indeed man is, and was always, a

blockhead and dullard; much readier to feel and digest, than to think and

consider. Prejudice, which he pretends to hate, is his absolute lawgiver;

mere use-and-wont everywhere leads him by the nose; thus let but a Rising

of the Sun, let but a Creation of the World happen _twice_, and it ceases

to be marvellous, to be noteworthy, or noticeable. Perhaps not once in a

lifetime does it occur to your ordinary biped, of any country or

generation, be he gold-mantled Prince or russet-jerkined Peasant, that his

Vestments and his Self are not one and indivisible; that _he_ is naked,

without vestments, till he buy or steal such, and by forethought sew and

button them.

 

"For my own part, these considerations, of our Clothes-thatch, and how,

reaching inwards even to our heart of hearts, it tailorizes and demoralizes

us, fill me with a certain horror at myself and mankind; almost as one

feels at those Dutch Cows, which, during the wet season, you see grazing

deliberately with jackets and petticoats (of striped sacking), in the

meadows of Gouda. Nevertheless there is something great in the moment when

a man first strips himself of adventitious wrappages; and sees indeed that

he is naked, and, as Swift has it, 'a forked straddling animal with bandy

legs;' yet also a Spirit, and unutterable Mystery of Mysteries."

 

................quotation ends......................

 

-

"John" <bharani

<RamanaMaharshi>

Friday, May 21, 2004 4:51 AM

[RamanaMaharshi] Re: Vichara in Kipling's Kim (and Tennyson){and

Carlysle]

 

 

OM Namo Bhagavathe Sri Ramanaaya

Dear Alan (or anyone)

If you have a scanner would you be able to upload the passage you

quoted to the Files area?

 

anbudan

 

john

 

Siva-Siva

[Guest guest]

Hi Alan,

 

I agree with you that eruption of atma-vichara in 19th century

literature is remarkable. I think you are quite right that Carlyle

is describing a full-blown experience of it, even though he

writes in a way that disguises his seriousness.

 

Best regards,

 

Rob

 

-

"Alan Jacobs" <alanadamsjacobs

<RamanaMaharshi>

Friday, May 21, 2004 1:46 AM

Re: [RamanaMaharshi] Vichara in Kipling's Kim (and Tennyson){and

Carlysle]

 

 

> Dear Rob and David ,

>

> The remarkable appearance of Atma Vichara in 19thC English Literature is a

wonder.The most

> striking is a very long passage in Thomas Carlyle's Sartor Resartus [a witty

Novel which pokes fun

> at German Metaphysics] in Chapter 8 para 5.It is quite long [a page and a

half in the OUP

> World's Classics Edition] -but starts "Who am I:what is this Me?.... and there

is a long

> meditation which is definately Self Enquiry .I suppose intelligent men and

women do ponder and

> question in this way from time to time .Regards and best wishes to you both ,

Alan

>

>

> Godman <godmandavid wrote: >

> >

> >

> > Rob Sacks" <editor

> >

> > Earlier today I ran across an interesting description of atma vichara in (of

all places!)

> > Rudyard Kipling's novel "Kim." In the book, the practice happens to the

protagonist

> > spontaneously when he is about sixteen years old -- the same circumstances

under which it

> > happened to Ramana Maharshi.

> > .

> > This book appeared in 1901, the same year that Ramana Maharshi began to

"dictate" the first

> > version of the pamphlet "Who Am I" by writing answers to questions in the

sand.

> >

> > I apologize if I am offending anyone by quoting Kipling here. His works are

offensive in many

> > respects. But if God is not too fastidious to use Kipling as a medium,

perhaps we should not be

> > too fastidious to take an interest in what he wrote.

> > .

> > Here's the whole passage:

> >

> > A very few white people, but many Asiatics, can throw themselves into a

mazement as it were by

> > repeating their own names over and over again to themselves, letting the

mind go free upon

> > speculation as to what is called personal identity. When one grows older,

the power, usually,

> > departs, but while it lasts it may descend upon a man at any moment.

> > .

> > 'Who is Kim - Kim - Kim?'

> > .

> > He squatted in a corner of the clanging waiting-room, rapt from all other

thoughts; hands

> > folded in lap, and pupils contracted to pin-points. In a minute - in

another half-second he

> > felt he would arrive at the solution of the tremendous puzzle; but here, as

always happens, his

> > mind dropped away from those heights with a rush of a wounded bird, and

passing his hand before

> > his eyes, he shook his head.

> > .

> > A long-haired Hindu bairagi [holy man], who had just bought a ticket, halted

before him at that

> > moment and stared intently.

> > .

> > 'I also have lost it,' he said sadly. 'It is one of the Gates

> > to the Way, but for me it has been shut many years.'

> > .

> > 'What is the talk?' said Kim, abashed.

> > .

> > 'Thou wast wondering there in thy spirit what manner of thing thy soul might

be. The seizure

> > came of a sudden. I know. Who should know but I? Whither goest thou?'

> > .

> > From Chapter 11

> >

> > One thing that stood out for me is the remark that this is happens mainly to

young people.

> > Coincidentally, just before I stumbled across this passage, a friend had

written to me that

> > people have to start sadhana at a young age in order to experience the Self

directly. All I can

> > say is, I hope they are wrong.

> >

> > The same thing happened to the famous English poet Tennyson around the same

time. He said that

> > it was a talent he had had from early childhood, but it didn't leave him

when he grew up. This

> > (from Day by Day, 17th June, 1946) is what happened when Devaraja Mudaliar

read out a

> > description of the experience to Bhagavan:

> >

> > In continuation of yesterday's conversation about Tennyson, the

relevant passage was

> > found in a footnote to the English translation of Upadesa Saram. It was not

in a poem but in a

> > letter to B. P. Blood. Bhagavan asked me to read it out, so I did: '...a

kind of waking trance I

> > have frequently had, quite up from boyhood, when I have been all alone. This

has generally come

> > upon me through repeating my own name two or three times to myself,

silently, till all at once,

> > as it were out of the intensity of consciousness of individuality, the

individuality itself

> > seemed to dissolve and fade away into boundless being: and this is not a

confused state, but the

> > clearest of the clearest, the surest of the surest, the weirdest of the

weirdest, utterly beyond

> > words, where death was a laughable impossibility, the loss of personality

(if so it were)

> > seeming no extinction but the only true life.'

> > Bhagavan said: 'That state is called abidance in the Self. It is

described in a number

> > of songs.'

> >

> >

> >

>

> =====

> Life is a pure flame,and we live

> by an invisible Sun within us.

>

>

>

>

>

> __________

> Messenger - Communicate instantly..."Ping"

> your friends today! Download Messenger Now

> http://uk.messenger./download/index.html

>

>

>

>

> Post message: RamanaMaharshi

> Subscribe: RamanaMaharshi-

> Un: RamanaMaharshi

> List owner: RamanaMaharshi-owner

>

> Shortcut URL to this page:

> http://www./community/RamanaMaharshi

> Links

>

>

>

>

>

[Guest guest]

---Dear Rob ,

 

Yes I quite agree .Thanks for downloading it .You have saved these tired

fingers some typing

tapas.One wonders what underground influences were affecting the 19thc.We know

from Dr.Johnson

that Rumi[ in Persian] and the `Upanishads had been printed [ in Latin] ,and

the Gita[English-

Warren Hastings of the East India Co.arranged it] .Carlyle like Coleridge went

to Germany and met

the Idealist Metaphysicians who had recognised with Kant and later Schopenhauer

that all sprang

from Bishop Berkley's Ultimate Subject -what we now term .

 

So Jai Sri Carlyeji Maharaj!

 

Warm regards , Alan

 

 

Sacks <editor wrote: > Hi Alan,

>

> I agree with you that eruption of atma-vichara in 19th century

> literature is remarkable. I think you are quite right that Carlyle

> is describing a full-blown experience of it, even though he

> writes in a way that disguises his seriousness.

>

> Best regards,

>

> Rob

>

> -

> "Alan Jacobs" <alanadamsjacobs

> <RamanaMaharshi>

> Friday, May 21, 2004 1:46 AM

> Re: [RamanaMaharshi] Vichara in Kipling's Kim (and Tennyson){and

Carlysle]

>

>

> > Dear Rob and David ,

> >

> > The remarkable appearance of Atma Vichara in 19thC English Literature is a

wonder.The most

> > striking is a very long passage in Thomas Carlyle's Sartor Resartus [a witty

Novel which pokes

> fun

> > at German Metaphysics] in Chapter 8 para 5.It is quite long [a page and a

half in the OUP

> > World's Classics Edition] -but starts "Who am I:what is this Me?.... and

there is a long

> > meditation which is definately Self Enquiry .I suppose intelligent men and

women do ponder and

> > question in this way from time to time .Regards and best wishes to you both

, Alan

> >

> >

> > Godman <godmandavid wrote: >

> > >

> > >

> > > Rob Sacks" <editor

> > >

> > > Earlier today I ran across an interesting description of atma vichara in

(of all places!)

> > > Rudyard Kipling's novel "Kim." In the book, the practice happens to the

protagonist

> > > spontaneously when he is about sixteen years old -- the same circumstances

under which it

> > > happened to Ramana Maharshi.

> > > .

> > > This book appeared in 1901, the same year that Ramana Maharshi began to

"dictate" the first

> > > version of the pamphlet "Who Am I" by writing answers to questions in the

sand.

> > >

> > > I apologize if I am offending anyone by quoting Kipling here. His works

are offensive in

> many

> > > respects. But if God is not too fastidious to use Kipling as a medium,

perhaps we should

> not be

> > > too fastidious to take an interest in what he wrote.

> > > .

> > > Here's the whole passage:

> > >

> > > A very few white people, but many Asiatics, can throw themselves into a

mazement as it were

> by

> > > repeating their own names over and over again to themselves, letting the

mind go free upon

> > > speculation as to what is called personal identity. When one grows

older, the power,

> usually,

> > > departs, but while it lasts it may descend upon a man at any moment.

> > > .

> > > 'Who is Kim - Kim - Kim?'

> > > .

> > > He squatted in a corner of the clanging waiting-room, rapt from all other

thoughts; hands

> > > folded in lap, and pupils contracted to pin-points. In a minute - in

another half-second he

> > > felt he would arrive at the solution of the tremendous puzzle; but here,

as always happens,

> his

> > > mind dropped away from those heights with a rush of a wounded bird, and

passing his hand

> before

> > > his eyes, he shook his head.

> > > .

> > > A long-haired Hindu bairagi [holy man], who had just bought a ticket,

halted before him at

> that

> > > moment and stared intently.

> > > .

> > > 'I also have lost it,' he said sadly. 'It is one of the Gates

> > > to the Way, but for me it has been shut many years.'

> > > .

> > > 'What is the talk?' said Kim, abashed.

> > > .

> > > 'Thou wast wondering there in thy spirit what manner of thing thy soul

might be. The seizure

> > > came of a sudden. I know. Who should know but I? Whither goest thou?'

> > > .

> > > From Chapter 11

> > >

> > > One thing that stood out for me is the remark that this is happens mainly

to young people.

> > > Coincidentally, just before I stumbled across this passage, a friend had

written to me that

> > > people have to start sadhana at a young age in order to experience the

Self directly. All I

> can

> > > say is, I hope they are wrong.

> > >

> > > The same thing happened to the famous English poet Tennyson around the

same time. He said

> that

> > > it was a talent he had had from early childhood, but it didn't leave him

when he grew up.

> This

> > > (from Day by Day, 17th June, 1946) is what happened when Devaraja Mudaliar

read out a

> > > description of the experience to Bhagavan:

> > >

> > > In continuation of yesterday's conversation about Tennyson, the

relevant passage was

> > > found in a footnote to the English translation of Upadesa Saram. It was

not in a poem but in

> a

> > > letter to B. P. Blood. Bhagavan asked me to read it out, so I did: '...a

kind of waking

> trance I

> > > have frequently had, quite up from boyhood, when I have been all alone.

This has generally

> come

> > > upon me through repeating my own name two or three times to myself,

silently, till all at

> once,

> > > as it were out of the intensity of consciousness of individuality, the

individuality itself

> > > seemed to dissolve and fade away into boundless being: and this is not a

confused state, but

> the

> > > clearest of the clearest, the surest of the surest, the weirdest of the

weirdest, utterly

> beyond

> > > words, where death was a laughable impossibility, the loss of personality

(if so it were)

> > > seeming no extinction but the only true life.'

> > > Bhagavan said: 'That state is called abidance in the Self. It is

described in a

> number

> > > of songs.'

> > >

> > >

> > >

> >

> > =====

> > Life is a pure flame,and we live

> > by an invisible Sun within us.

> >

> >

> >

> >

> >

> > __________

> > Messenger - Communicate instantly..."Ping"

> > your friends today! Download Messenger Now

> > http://uk.messenger./download/index.html

> >

> >

> >

> >

> > Post message: RamanaMaharshi

> > Subscribe: RamanaMaharshi-

> > Un: RamanaMaharshi

> > List owner: RamanaMaharshi-owner

> >

> > Shortcut URL to this page:

> > http://www./community/RamanaMaharshi

> > Links

> >

> >

> >

> >

> >

>

>

>

>

>

> Post message: RamanaMaharshi

> Subscribe: RamanaMaharshi-

> Un: RamanaMaharshi

> List owner: RamanaMaharshi-owner

>

> Shortcut URL to this page:

> http://www./community/RamanaMaharshi

> Links

>

>

>

>

>

 

=====

Life is a pure flame,and we live

by an invisible Sun within us.

 

 

 

 

 

__________

Messenger - Communicate instantly..."Ping"

your friends today! Download Messenger Now

http://uk.messenger./download/index.html

[Guest guest]

Dear Rob , the tired fingers left out the last word in my letter

.....Consciousness .Regards , Alan

 

 

 

 

--- Alan Jacobs <alanadamsjacobs wrote: > ---Dear Rob ,

>

> Yes I quite agree .Thanks for downloading it .You have saved these tired

fingers some typing

> tapas.One wonders what underground influences were affecting the 19thc.We know

from Dr.Johnson

> that Rumi[ in Persian] and the `Upanishads had been printed [ in Latin] ,and

the Gita[English-

> Warren Hastings of the East India Co.arranged it] .Carlyle like Coleridge

went to Germany and

> met

> the Idealist Metaphysicians who had recognised with Kant and later

Schopenhauer that all sprang

> from Bishop Berkley's Ultimate Subject -what we now term .

>

> So Jai Sri Carlyeji Maharaj!

>

> Warm regards , Alan

>

>

> Sacks <editor wrote: > Hi Alan,

> >

> > I agree with you that eruption of atma-vichara in 19th century

> > literature is remarkable. I think you are quite right that Carlyle

> > is describing a full-blown experience of it, even though he

> > writes in a way that disguises his seriousness.

> >

> > Best regards,

> >

> > Rob

> >

> > -

> > "Alan Jacobs" <alanadamsjacobs

> > <RamanaMaharshi>

> > Friday, May 21, 2004 1:46 AM

> > Re: [RamanaMaharshi] Vichara in Kipling's Kim (and Tennyson){and

Carlysle]

> >

> >

> > > Dear Rob and David ,

> > >

> > > The remarkable appearance of Atma Vichara in 19thC English Literature is a

wonder.The most

> > > striking is a very long passage in Thomas Carlyle's Sartor Resartus [a

witty Novel which

> pokes

> > fun

> > > at German Metaphysics] in Chapter 8 para 5.It is quite long [a page and

a half in the OUP

> > > World's Classics Edition] -but starts "Who am I:what is this Me?.... and

there is a long

> > > meditation which is definately Self Enquiry .I suppose intelligent men and

women do ponder

> and

> > > question in this way from time to time .Regards and best wishes to you

both , Alan

> > >

> > >

> > > Godman <godmandavid wrote: >

> > > >

> > > >

> > > > Rob Sacks" <editor

> > > >

> > > > Earlier today I ran across an interesting description of atma vichara in

(of all places!)

> > > > Rudyard Kipling's novel "Kim." In the book, the practice happens to the

protagonist

> > > > spontaneously when he is about sixteen years old -- the same

circumstances under which it

> > > > happened to Ramana Maharshi.

> > > > .

> > > > This book appeared in 1901, the same year that Ramana Maharshi began to

"dictate" the

> first

> > > > version of the pamphlet "Who Am I" by writing answers to questions in

the sand.

> > > >

> > > > I apologize if I am offending anyone by quoting Kipling here. His works

are offensive in

> > many

> > > > respects. But if God is not too fastidious to use Kipling as a medium,

perhaps we should

> > not be

> > > > too fastidious to take an interest in what he wrote.

> > > > .

> > > > Here's the whole passage:

> > > >

> > > > A very few white people, but many Asiatics, can throw themselves into a

mazement as it

> were

> > by

> > > > repeating their own names over and over again to themselves, letting the

mind go free upon

> > > > speculation as to what is called personal identity. When one grows

older, the power,

> > usually,

> > > > departs, but while it lasts it may descend upon a man at any moment.

> > > > .

> > > > 'Who is Kim - Kim - Kim?'

> > > > .

> > > > He squatted in a corner of the clanging waiting-room, rapt from all

other thoughts; hands

> > > > folded in lap, and pupils contracted to pin-points. In a minute - in

another half-second

> he

> > > > felt he would arrive at the solution of the tremendous puzzle; but here,

as always

> happens,

> > his

> > > > mind dropped away from those heights with a rush of a wounded bird, and

passing his hand

> > before

> > > > his eyes, he shook his head.

> > > > .

> > > > A long-haired Hindu bairagi [holy man], who had just bought a ticket,

halted before him at

> > that

> > > > moment and stared intently.

> > > > .

> > > > 'I also have lost it,' he said sadly. 'It is one of the Gates

> > > > to the Way, but for me it has been shut many years.'

> > > > .

> > > > 'What is the talk?' said Kim, abashed.

> > > > .

> > > > 'Thou wast wondering there in thy spirit what manner of thing thy soul

might be. The

> seizure

> > > > came of a sudden. I know. Who should know but I? Whither goest thou?'

> > > > .

> > > > From Chapter 11

> > > >

> > > > One thing that stood out for me is the remark that this is happens

mainly to young people.

>

> > > > Coincidentally, just before I stumbled across this passage, a friend

had written to me

> that

> > > > people have to start sadhana at a young age in order to experience the

Self directly. All

> I

> > can

> > > > say is, I hope they are wrong.

> > > >

> > > > The same thing happened to the famous English poet Tennyson around the

same time. He said

> > that

> > > > it was a talent he had had from early childhood, but it didn't leave him

when he grew up.

> > This

> > > > (from Day by Day, 17th June, 1946) is what happened when Devaraja

Mudaliar read out a

> > > > description of the experience to Bhagavan:

> > > >

> > > > In continuation of yesterday's conversation about Tennyson, the

relevant passage

> was

> > > > found in a footnote to the English translation of Upadesa Saram. It was

not in a poem but

> in

> > a

> > > > letter to B. P. Blood. Bhagavan asked me to read it out, so I did: '...a

kind of waking

> > trance I

> > > > have frequently had, quite up from boyhood, when I have been all alone.

This has generally

> > come

> > > > upon me through repeating my own name two or three times to myself,

silently, till all at

> > once,

> > > > as it were out of the intensity of consciousness of individuality, the

individuality

> itself

> > > > seemed to dissolve and fade away into boundless being: and this is not a

confused state,

> but

> > the

> > > > clearest of the clearest, the surest of the surest, the weirdest of the

weirdest, utterly

> > beyond

> > > > words, where death was a laughable impossibility, the loss of

personality (if so it were)

> > > > seeming no extinction but the only true life.'

> > > > Bhagavan said: 'That state is called abidance in the Self. It is

described in a

> > number

> > > > of songs.'

> > > >

> > > >

> > > >

> > >

> > > =====

> > > Life is a pure flame,and we live

> > > by an invisible Sun within us.

> > >

> > >

> > >

> > >

> > >

> > > __________

> > > Messenger - Communicate instantly..."Ping"

> > > your friends today! Download Messenger Now

> > > http://uk.messenger./download/index.html

> > >

> > >

> > >

> > >

> > > Post message: RamanaMaharshi

> > > Subscribe: RamanaMaharshi-

> > > Un: RamanaMaharshi

> > > List owner: RamanaMaharshi-owner

> > >

> > > Shortcut URL to this page:

> > > http://www./community/RamanaMaharshi

> > > Links

> > >

> > >

> > >

> > >

> > >

> >

> >

> >

> >

> >

> > Post message: RamanaMaharshi

> > Subscribe: RamanaMaharshi-

> > Un: RamanaMaharshi

> > List owner: RamanaMaharshi-owner

> >

> > Shortcut URL to this page:

> > http://www./community/RamanaMaharshi

> > Links

> >

> >

> >

> >

> >

>

> =====

> Life is a pure flame,and we live

> by an invisible Sun within us.

>

>

>

>

>

> __________

> Messenger - Communicate instantly..."Ping"

> your friends today! Download Messenger Now

> http://uk.messenger./download/index.html

>

>

>

>

> Post message: RamanaMaharshi

> Subscribe: RamanaMaharshi-

> Un: RamanaMaharshi

> List owner: RamanaMaharshi-owner

>

> Shortcut URL to this page:

> http://www./community/RamanaMaharshi

> Links

>

>

>

>

>

 

=====

Life is a pure flame,and we live

by an invisible Sun within us.

 

 

 

 

 

__________

Messenger - Communicate instantly..."Ping"

your friends today! Download Messenger Now

http://uk.messenger./download/index.html

[Guest guest]

Om Namo Bhagavathe Sri Ramanaaya

 

Hi Rob!

 

This was an absorbing and transporting read. Thanks very much for

posting it. I've pasted it into a file and uploaded it to the Files

area in a new file called Bits and Pieces.

 

NanRi Vanakkam!

 

anbudan

 

John

 

Siva—Siva

 

RamanaMaharshi, "Rob Sacks" <editor@r...>

wrote:

> Hi John,

>

> > If you have a scanner would you be able to upload the passage

> > you quoted to the Files area?

>

> I was able to find this quickly in electronic form on the Project

> Gutenberg website. (By the way, it's pretty easy nowadays to

> find complete texts of famous books by typing a quotation from

> one of them into Google.)

>

> I'll attach the whole chapter below. It comes from "Sartor

> Resartorus: The Life and Opinions of Herr Teufelsdrockh" by

> Thomas Carlyle (1831).

>

> Regards,

>

> Rob

> ...............quotation follows......................

>

> CHAPTER VIII.

> THE WORLD OUT OF CLOTHES.

>

> If in the Descriptive-Historical portion of this Volume,

Teufelsdrockh,

> discussing merely the _Werden_ (Origin and successive Improvement)

of

> Clothes, has astonished many a reader, much more will he in the

> Speculative-Philosophical portion, which treats of their _Wirken_,

or

> Influences. It is here that thc present Editor first feels the

pressure of

> his task; for here properly the higher and new Philosophy of

Clothes

> commences: all untried, almost inconceivable region, or chaos; in

> venturing upon which, how difficult, yet how unspeakably important

is it to

> know what course, of survey and conquest, is the true one; where

the

> footing is firm substance and will bear us, where it is hollow, or

mere

> cloud, and may engulf us! Teufelsdrockh undertakes no less than

to expound

> the moral, political, even religious Influences of Clothes; he

undertakes

> to make manifest, in its thousand-fold bearings, this grand

Proposition,

> that Man's earthly interests "are all hooked and buttoned

together, and

> held up, by Clothes." He says in so many words, "Society is

founded upon

> Cloth;" and again, "Society sails through the Infinitude on Cloth,

as on a

> Faust's Mantle, or rather like the Sheet of clean and unclean

beasts in the

> Apostle's Dream; and without such Sheet or Mantle, would sink to

endless

> depths, or mount to inane limbos, and in either case be no more."

>

> By what chains, or indeed infinitely complected tissues, of

Meditation this

> grand Theorem is here unfolded, and innumerable practical

Corollaries are

> drawn therefrom, it were perhaps a mad ambition to attempt

exhibiting. Our

> Professor's method is not, in any case, that of common school

Logic, where

> the truths all stand in a row, each holding by the skirts of the

other; but

> at best that of practical Reason' proceeding by large Intuition

over whole

> systematic groups and kingdoms; whereby, we might say, a noble

complexity,

> almost like that of Nature, reigns in his Philosophy, or spiritual

Picture

> of Nature: a mighty maze, yet, as faith whispers, not without a

plan. Nay

> we complained above, that a certain ignoble complexity, what we

must call

> mere confusion, was also discernible. Often, also, we have to

exclaim:

> Would to Heaven those same Biographical Documents were come! For

it seems

> as if the demonstration lay much in the Author's individuality; as

if it

> were not Argument that had taught him, but Experience. At present

it is

> only in local glimpses, and by significant fragments, picked often

at

> wide-enough intervals from the original Volume, and carefully

collated,

> that we can hope to impart some outline or foreshadow of this

Doctrine.

> Readers of any intelligence are once more invited to favor us with

their

> most concentrated attention: let these, after intense

consideration, and

> not till then, pronounce, Whether on the utmost verge of our

actual horizon

> there is not a looming as of Land; a promise of new Fortunate

Islands,

> perhaps whole undiscovered Americas, for such as have canvas to

sail

> thither?--As exordium to the whole, stand here the following long

> citation:--

>

> "With men of a speculative turn," writes Teufelsdrockh, "there come

> seasons, meditative, sweet, yet awful hours, when in wonder and

fear you

> ask yourself that unanswerable question: Who am I; the thing that

can say

> 'I' (_das Wesen das sich ICH nennt_)? The world, with its loud

> trafficking, retires into the distance; and, through the paper-

hangings,

> and stonewalls, and thick-plied tissues of Commerce and Polity,

and all the

> living and lifeless integuments (of Society and a Body), wherewith

your

> Existence sits surrounded,--the sight reaches forth into the void

Deep, and

> you are alone with the Universe, and silently commune with it, as

one

> mysterious Presence with another.

>

> "Who am I; what is this ME? A Voice, a Motion, an Appearance;--

some

> embodied, visualized Idea in the Eternal Mind? _Cogito, ergo

sum_. Alas,

> poor Cogitator, this takes us but a little way. Sure enough, I

am; and

> lately was not: but Whence? How? Whereto? The answer lies

around,

> written in all colors and motions, uttered in all tones of jubilee

and

> wail, in thousand-figured, thousand-voiced, harmonious Nature:

but where

> is the cunning eye and ear to whom that God-written Apocalypse

will yield

> articulate meaning? We sit as in a boundless Phantasmagoria and

> Dream-grotto; boundless, for the faintest star, the remotest

century, lies

> not even nearer the verge thereof: sounds and many-colored

visions flit

> round our sense; but Him, the Unslumbering, whose work both Dream

and

> Dreamer are, we see not; except in rare half-waking moments,

suspect not.

> Creation, says one, lies before us, like a glorious Rainbow; but

the Sun

> that made it lies behind us, hidden from us. Then, in that

strange Dream,

> how we clutch at shadows as if they were substances; and sleep

deepest

> while fancying ourselves most awake! Which of your Philosophical

Systems

> is other than a dream-theorem; a net quotient, confidently given

out, where

> divisor and dividend are both unknown? What are all your national

Wars,

> with their Moscow Retreats, and sanguinary hate-filled

Revolutions, but the

> Somnambulism of uneasy Sleepers? This Dreaming, this Somnambulism

is what

> we on Earth call Life; wherein the most indeed undoubtingly

wander, as if

> they knew right hand from left; yet they only are wise who know

that they

> know nothing.

>

> "Pity that all Metaphysics had hitherto proved so inexpressibly

> unproductive! The secret of Man's Being is still like the

Sphinx's secret:

> a riddle that he cannot rede; and for ignorance of which he

suffers death,

> the worst death, a spiritual. What are your Axioms, and

Categories, and

> Systems, and Aphorisms? Words, words. High Air-castles are

cunningly

> built of Words, the Words well bedded also in good Logic-mortar;

wherein,

> however, no Knowledge will come to lodge. _The whole is greater

than the

> part_: how exceedingly true! _Nature abhors a vacuum_: how

exceedingly

> false and calumnious! Again, _Nothing can act but where it is_:

with all

> my heart; only, WHERE is it? Be not the slave of Words: is not

the

> Distant, the Dead, while I love it, and long for it, and mourn for

it,

> Here, in the genuine sense, as truly as the floor I stand on? But

that

> same WHERE, with its brother WHEN, are from the first the master-

colors of

> our Dream-grotto; say rather, the Canvas (the warp and woof

thereof)

> whereon all our Dreams and Life-visions are painted.

Nevertheless, has not

> a deeper meditation taught certain of every climate and age, that

the WHERE

> and WHEN, so mysteriously inseparable from all our thoughts, are

but

> superficial terrestrial adhesions to thought; that the Seer may

discern

> them where they mount up out of the celestial EVERYWHERE and

FOREVER: have

> not all nations conceived their God as Omnipresent and Eternal; as

existing

> in a universal HERE, an everlasting Now? Think well, thou too

wilt find

> that Space is but a mode of our human Sense, so likewise Time;

there _is_

> no Space and no Time: WE are--we know not what;--light-sparkles

floating

> in the ether of Deity!

>

> "So that this so solid-seeming World, after all, were but an air-

image, our

> ME the only reality: and Nature, with its thousand-fold

production and

> destruction, but the reflex of our own inward Force, the 'phantasy

of our

> Dream;' or what the Earth-Spirit in _Faust_ names it, _the living

visible

> Garment of God_:--

>

> "'In Being's floods, in Action's storm,

> I walk and work, above, beneath,

> Work and weave in endless motion!

> Birth and Death,

> An infinite ocean;

> A seizing and giving

> The fire of Living:

> 'Tis thus at the roaring Loom of Time I ply,

> And weave for God the Garment thou seest Him by.'

>

> Of twenty millions that have read and spouted this thunder-speech

of the

> _Erdgeist_, are there yet twenty units of us that have learned the

meaning

> thereof?

>

> "It was in some such mood, when wearied and fordone with these high

> speculations, that I first came upon the question of Clothes.

Strange

> enough, it strikes me, is this same fact of there being Tailors and

> Tailored. The Horse I ride has his own whole fell: strip him of

the

> girths and flaps and extraneous tags I have fastened round him,

and the

> noble creature is his own sempster and weaver and spinner; nay his

own

> boot-maker, jeweller, and man-milliner; he bounds free through the

valleys,

> with a perennial rain-proof court-suit on his body; wherein warmth

and

> easiness of fit have reached perfection; nay, the graces also have

been

> considered, and frills and fringes, with gay variety of color,

featly

> appended, and ever in the right place, are not wanting. While I--

good

> Heaven!-- have thatched myself over with the dead fleeces of

sheep, the

> bark of vegetables, the entrails of worms, the hides of oxen or

seals, the

> felt of furred beasts; and walk abroad a moving Rag-screen,

overheaped with

> shreds and tatters raked from the Charnel-house of Nature, where

they would

> have rotted, to rot on me more slowly! Day after day, I must

thatch myself

> anew; day after day, this despicable thatch must lose some film of

its

> thickness; some film of it, frayed away by tear and wear, must be

brushed

> off into the Ashpit, into the Laystall; till by degrees the whole

has been

> brushed thither, and I, the dust-making, patent Rat-grinder, get

new

> material to grind down. O subter-brutish! vile! most vile! For

have not I

> too a compact all-enclosing Skin, whiter or dingier? Am I a

botched mass

> of tailors' and cobblers' shreds, then; or a tightly articulated,

> homogeneous little Figure, automatic, nay alive?

>

> "Strange enough how creatures of the human-kind shut their eyes to

plainest

> facts; and by the mere inertia of Oblivion and Stupidity, live at

ease in

> the midst of Wonders and Terrors. But indeed man is, and was

always, a

> blockhead and dullard; much readier to feel and digest, than to

think and

> consider. Prejudice, which he pretends to hate, is his absolute

lawgiver;

> mere use-and-wont everywhere leads him by the nose; thus let but a

Rising

> of the Sun, let but a Creation of the World happen _twice_, and it

ceases

> to be marvellous, to be noteworthy, or noticeable. Perhaps not

once in a

> lifetime does it occur to your ordinary biped, of any country or

> generation, be he gold-mantled Prince or russet-jerkined Peasant,

that his

> Vestments and his Self are not one and indivisible; that _he_ is

naked,

> without vestments, till he buy or steal such, and by forethought

sew and

> button them.

>

> "For my own part, these considerations, of our Clothes-thatch, and

how,

> reaching inwards even to our heart of hearts, it tailorizes and

demoralizes

> us, fill me with a certain horror at myself and mankind; almost as

one

> feels at those Dutch Cows, which, during the wet season, you see

grazing

> deliberately with jackets and petticoats (of striped sacking), in

the

> meadows of Gouda. Nevertheless there is something great in the

moment when

> a man first strips himself of adventitious wrappages; and sees

indeed that

> he is naked, and, as Swift has it, 'a forked straddling animal

with bandy

> legs;' yet also a Spirit, and unutterable Mystery of Mysteries."

>

> ...............quotation ends......................

>

> -

> "John" <bharani@o...>

> <RamanaMaharshi>

> Friday, May 21, 2004 4:51 AM

> [RamanaMaharshi] Re: Vichara in Kipling's Kim (and

Tennyson){and Carlysle]

>

>

> OM Namo Bhagavathe Sri Ramanaaya

> Dear Alan (or anyone)

> If you have a scanner would you be able to upload the passage you

> quoted to the Files area?

>

> anbudan

>

> john

>

> Siva-Siva

[Guest guest]

Om Namo Bhagavathe Sri Ramanaaya

Dear Rob, I meant a new folder called "Bits and Pieces"

Thanks

 

anbudan

 

john

 

Siva—SivA

 

RamanaMaharshi, "John" <bharani@o...> wrote:

> Om Namo Bhagavathe Sri Ramanaaya

>

> Hi Rob!

>

> This was an absorbing and transporting read. Thanks very much for

> posting it. I've pasted it into a file and uploaded it to the

Files

> area in a new file called Bits and Pieces.

>

> NanRi Vanakkam!

>

> anbudan

>

> John

>

> Siva—Siva

>

> RamanaMaharshi, "Rob Sacks" <editor@r...>

> wrote:

> > Hi John,

> >

> > > If you have a scanner would you be able to upload the passage

> > > you quoted to the Files area?

> >

> > I was able to find this quickly in electronic form on the

Project

> > Gutenberg website. (By the way, it's pretty easy nowadays to

> > find complete texts of famous books by typing a quotation from

> > one of them into Google.)

> >

> > I'll attach the whole chapter below. It comes from "Sartor

> > Resartorus: The Life and Opinions of Herr Teufelsdrockh" by

> > Thomas Carlyle (1831).

> >

> > Regards,

> >

> > Rob

> > ...............quotation follows......................

> >

> > CHAPTER VIII.

> > THE WORLD OUT OF CLOTHES.

> >

> > If in the Descriptive-Historical portion of this Volume,

> Teufelsdrockh,

> > discussing merely the _Werden_ (Origin and successive

Improvement)

> of

> > Clothes, has astonished many a reader, much more will he in the

> > Speculative-Philosophical portion, which treats of their

_Wirken_,

> or

> > Influences. It is here that thc present Editor first feels the

> pressure of

> > his task; for here properly the higher and new Philosophy of

> Clothes

> > commences: all untried, almost inconceivable region, or chaos;

in

> > venturing upon which, how difficult, yet how unspeakably

important

> is it to

> > know what course, of survey and conquest, is the true one; where

> the

> > footing is firm substance and will bear us, where it is hollow,

or

> mere

> > cloud, and may engulf us! Teufelsdrockh undertakes no less than

> to expound

> > the moral, political, even religious Influences of Clothes; he

> undertakes

> > to make manifest, in its thousand-fold bearings, this grand

> Proposition,

> > that Man's earthly interests "are all hooked and buttoned

> together, and

> > held up, by Clothes." He says in so many words, "Society is

> founded upon

> > Cloth;" and again, "Society sails through the Infinitude on

Cloth,

> as on a

> > Faust's Mantle, or rather like the Sheet of clean and unclean

> beasts in the

> > Apostle's Dream; and without such Sheet or Mantle, would sink to

> endless

> > depths, or mount to inane limbos, and in either case be no more."

> >

> > By what chains, or indeed infinitely complected tissues, of

> Meditation this

> > grand Theorem is here unfolded, and innumerable practical

> Corollaries are

> > drawn therefrom, it were perhaps a mad ambition to attempt

> exhibiting. Our

> > Professor's method is not, in any case, that of common school

> Logic, where

> > the truths all stand in a row, each holding by the skirts of the

> other; but

> > at best that of practical Reason' proceeding by large Intuition

> over whole

> > systematic groups and kingdoms; whereby, we might say, a noble

> complexity,

> > almost like that of Nature, reigns in his Philosophy, or

spiritual

> Picture

> > of Nature: a mighty maze, yet, as faith whispers, not without a

> plan. Nay

> > we complained above, that a certain ignoble complexity, what we

> must call

> > mere confusion, was also discernible. Often, also, we have to

> exclaim:

> > Would to Heaven those same Biographical Documents were come!

For

> it seems

> > as if the demonstration lay much in the Author's individuality;

as

> if it

> > were not Argument that had taught him, but Experience. At

present

> it is

> > only in local glimpses, and by significant fragments, picked

often

> at

> > wide-enough intervals from the original Volume, and carefully

> collated,

> > that we can hope to impart some outline or foreshadow of this

> Doctrine.

> > Readers of any intelligence are once more invited to favor us

with

> their

> > most concentrated attention: let these, after intense

> consideration, and

> > not till then, pronounce, Whether on the utmost verge of our

> actual horizon

> > there is not a looming as of Land; a promise of new Fortunate

> Islands,

> > perhaps whole undiscovered Americas, for such as have canvas to

> sail

> > thither?--As exordium to the whole, stand here the following long

> > citation:--

> >

> > "With men of a speculative turn," writes Teufelsdrockh, "there

come

> > seasons, meditative, sweet, yet awful hours, when in wonder and

> fear you

> > ask yourself that unanswerable question: Who am I; the thing

that

> can say

> > 'I' (_das Wesen das sich ICH nennt_)? The world, with its loud

> > trafficking, retires into the distance; and, through the paper-

> hangings,

> > and stonewalls, and thick-plied tissues of Commerce and Polity,

> and all the

> > living and lifeless integuments (of Society and a Body),

wherewith

> your

> > Existence sits surrounded,--the sight reaches forth into the

void

> Deep, and

> > you are alone with the Universe, and silently commune with it,

as

> one

> > mysterious Presence with another.

> >

> > "Who am I; what is this ME? A Voice, a Motion, an Appearance;--

> some

> > embodied, visualized Idea in the Eternal Mind? _Cogito, ergo

> sum_. Alas,

> > poor Cogitator, this takes us but a little way. Sure enough, I

> am; and

> > lately was not: but Whence? How? Whereto? The answer lies

> around,

> > written in all colors and motions, uttered in all tones of

jubilee

> and

> > wail, in thousand-figured, thousand-voiced, harmonious Nature:

> but where

> > is the cunning eye and ear to whom that God-written Apocalypse

> will yield

> > articulate meaning? We sit as in a boundless Phantasmagoria and

> > Dream-grotto; boundless, for the faintest star, the remotest

> century, lies

> > not even nearer the verge thereof: sounds and many-colored

> visions flit

> > round our sense; but Him, the Unslumbering, whose work both

Dream

> and

> > Dreamer are, we see not; except in rare half-waking moments,

> suspect not.

> > Creation, says one, lies before us, like a glorious Rainbow; but

> the Sun

> > that made it lies behind us, hidden from us. Then, in that

> strange Dream,

> > how we clutch at shadows as if they were substances; and sleep

> deepest

> > while fancying ourselves most awake! Which of your

Philosophical

> Systems

> > is other than a dream-theorem; a net quotient, confidently given

> out, where

> > divisor and dividend are both unknown? What are all your

national

> Wars,

> > with their Moscow Retreats, and sanguinary hate-filled

> Revolutions, but the

> > Somnambulism of uneasy Sleepers? This Dreaming, this

Somnambulism

> is what

> > we on Earth call Life; wherein the most indeed undoubtingly

> wander, as if

> > they knew right hand from left; yet they only are wise who know

> that they

> > know nothing.

> >

> > "Pity that all Metaphysics had hitherto proved so inexpressibly

> > unproductive! The secret of Man's Being is still like the

> Sphinx's secret:

> > a riddle that he cannot rede; and for ignorance of which he

> suffers death,

> > the worst death, a spiritual. What are your Axioms, and

> Categories, and

> > Systems, and Aphorisms? Words, words. High Air-castles are

> cunningly

> > built of Words, the Words well bedded also in good Logic-mortar;

> wherein,

> > however, no Knowledge will come to lodge. _The whole is greater

> than the

> > part_: how exceedingly true! _Nature abhors a vacuum_: how

> exceedingly

> > false and calumnious! Again, _Nothing can act but where it

is_:

> with all

> > my heart; only, WHERE is it? Be not the slave of Words: is not

> the

> > Distant, the Dead, while I love it, and long for it, and mourn

for

> it,

> > Here, in the genuine sense, as truly as the floor I stand on?

But

> that

> > same WHERE, with its brother WHEN, are from the first the master-

> colors of

> > our Dream-grotto; say rather, the Canvas (the warp and woof

> thereof)

> > whereon all our Dreams and Life-visions are painted.

> Nevertheless, has not

> > a deeper meditation taught certain of every climate and age,

that

> the WHERE

> > and WHEN, so mysteriously inseparable from all our thoughts, are

> but

> > superficial terrestrial adhesions to thought; that the Seer may

> discern

> > them where they mount up out of the celestial EVERYWHERE and

> FOREVER: have

> > not all nations conceived their God as Omnipresent and Eternal;

as

> existing

> > in a universal HERE, an everlasting Now? Think well, thou too

> wilt find

> > that Space is but a mode of our human Sense, so likewise Time;

> there _is_

> > no Space and no Time: WE are--we know not what;--light-sparkles

> floating

> > in the ether of Deity!

> >

> > "So that this so solid-seeming World, after all, were but an air-

> image, our

> > ME the only reality: and Nature, with its thousand-fold

> production and

> > destruction, but the reflex of our own inward Force,

the 'phantasy

> of our

> > Dream;' or what the Earth-Spirit in _Faust_ names it, _the

living

> visible

> > Garment of God_:--

> >

> > "'In Being's floods, in Action's storm,

> > I walk and work, above, beneath,

> > Work and weave in endless motion!

> > Birth and Death,

> > An infinite ocean;

> > A seizing and giving

> > The fire of Living:

> > 'Tis thus at the roaring Loom of Time I ply,

> > And weave for God the Garment thou seest Him by.'

> >

> > Of twenty millions that have read and spouted this thunder-

speech

> of the

> > _Erdgeist_, are there yet twenty units of us that have learned

the

> meaning

> > thereof?

> >

> > "It was in some such mood, when wearied and fordone with these

high

> > speculations, that I first came upon the question of Clothes.

> Strange

> > enough, it strikes me, is this same fact of there being Tailors

and

> > Tailored. The Horse I ride has his own whole fell: strip him

of

> the

> > girths and flaps and extraneous tags I have fastened round him,

> and the

> > noble creature is his own sempster and weaver and spinner; nay

his

> own

> > boot-maker, jeweller, and man-milliner; he bounds free through

the

> valleys,

> > with a perennial rain-proof court-suit on his body; wherein

warmth

> and

> > easiness of fit have reached perfection; nay, the graces also

have

> been

> > considered, and frills and fringes, with gay variety of color,

> featly

> > appended, and ever in the right place, are not wanting. While I-

-

> good

> > Heaven!-- have thatched myself over with the dead fleeces of

> sheep, the

> > bark of vegetables, the entrails of worms, the hides of oxen or

> seals, the

> > felt of furred beasts; and walk abroad a moving Rag-screen,

> overheaped with

> > shreds and tatters raked from the Charnel-house of Nature, where

> they would

> > have rotted, to rot on me more slowly! Day after day, I must

> thatch myself

> > anew; day after day, this despicable thatch must lose some film

of

> its

> > thickness; some film of it, frayed away by tear and wear, must

be

> brushed

> > off into the Ashpit, into the Laystall; till by degrees the

whole

> has been

> > brushed thither, and I, the dust-making, patent Rat-grinder, get

> new

> > material to grind down. O subter-brutish! vile! most vile! For

> have not I

> > too a compact all-enclosing Skin, whiter or dingier? Am I a

> botched mass

> > of tailors' and cobblers' shreds, then; or a tightly articulated,

> > homogeneous little Figure, automatic, nay alive?

> >

> > "Strange enough how creatures of the human-kind shut their eyes

to

> plainest

> > facts; and by the mere inertia of Oblivion and Stupidity, live

at

> ease in

> > the midst of Wonders and Terrors. But indeed man is, and was

> always, a

> > blockhead and dullard; much readier to feel and digest, than to

> think and

> > consider. Prejudice, which he pretends to hate, is his absolute

> lawgiver;

> > mere use-and-wont everywhere leads him by the nose; thus let but

a

> Rising

> > of the Sun, let but a Creation of the World happen _twice_, and

it

> ceases

> > to be marvellous, to be noteworthy, or noticeable. Perhaps not

> once in a

> > lifetime does it occur to your ordinary biped, of any country or

> > generation, be he gold-mantled Prince or russet-jerkined

Peasant,

> that his

> > Vestments and his Self are not one and indivisible; that _he_ is

> naked,

> > without vestments, till he buy or steal such, and by forethought

> sew and

> > button them.

> >

> > "For my own part, these considerations, of our Clothes-thatch,

and

> how,

> > reaching inwards even to our heart of hearts, it tailorizes and

> demoralizes

> > us, fill me with a certain horror at myself and mankind; almost

as

> one

> > feels at those Dutch Cows, which, during the wet season, you see

> grazing

> > deliberately with jackets and petticoats (of striped sacking),

in

> the

> > meadows of Gouda. Nevertheless there is something great in the

> moment when

> > a man first strips himself of adventitious wrappages; and sees

> indeed that

> > he is naked, and, as Swift has it, 'a forked straddling animal

> with bandy

> > legs;' yet also a Spirit, and unutterable Mystery of Mysteries."

> >

> > ...............quotation ends......................

> >

> > -

> > "John" <bharani@o...>

> > <RamanaMaharshi>

> > Friday, May 21, 2004 4:51 AM

> > [RamanaMaharshi] Re: Vichara in Kipling's Kim (and

> Tennyson){and Carlysle]

> >

> >

> > OM Namo Bhagavathe Sri Ramanaaya

> > Dear Alan (or anyone)

> > If you have a scanner would you be able to upload the passage

you

> > quoted to the Files area?

> >

> > anbudan

> >

> > john

> >

> > Siva-Siva

[Guest guest]

RamanaMaharshi, Alan Jacobs

<alanadamsjacobs> wrote:

> Dear Rob , the tired fingers left out the last word in my

letter ....Consciousness .Regards , Alan

 

Namaste,

 

Let us not forget Shakespeare and his vedantic type verses. I fail

to see why it should be surprising in any century. However it is

interesting considering the players. Is it not possible that Kipling

mistook people doing japa on the Ishtadevata mistook it for japa on

their own name, perhaps the names were the same......ONS...Tony.