I've been preoccupied for a long time by the differences – considerable – between Christianity and Buddhism. Those differences are made vivid again for me in comparing Alan Watts with G.K. Chesterton. I can't embed it, but if you go to this YouTube clip, you will hear Alan Watts pondering on whether existence is serious, and, along the way, he quotes Chesterton:
The poet and essayist G.K. Chesterton once observed that the angels can fly because they take themselves lightly.
It's worth noting here that it is quite possible to quote approvingly from a person when, on the whole, you are out of sympathy with their philosophy of life. The philosophies of Watts and Chesterton differ greatly, the former being mainly Buddhist and the latter being entirely Christian.
I also notice something that might seem very incidental. The Chesterton quote only refers to taking oneself lightly. Watts, in speaking dismissively of existentialists, also seems to disparage the existential attitude not only of taking one's own life, but the lives of others seriously. An interesting point there, that one could easily miss.
As usual, I don't have long, so I would like to contrast the philosophies of Watts and Chesterton as succinctly as possible.
The following clip gives a fairly good idea of Watts' ideas on "nothing":
He talks very eloquently, and, speaking personally, I find very little here to object to, and much that is admirable. Watts describes nothing in very positive terms. He is, of course, not original in doing so. This particular nothingness has often been expressed as the circle of plenitude, the zero of fertility.
Chesterton has much to say about circles, and, from what I've read so far, little of it is positive. Here's an example:
It is amusing to notice that many of the moderns, whether sceptics or mystics, have taken as their sign a certain eastern symbol, which is the very symbol of this ultimate nullity. When they wish to represent eternity, they represent it by a serpent with his tail in his mouth. There is a startling sarcasm in the image of that very unsatisfactory meal. The eternity of the material fatalists, the eternity of the eastern pessimists, the eternity of the supercilious theosophists and higher scientists of to-day is, indeed, very well presented by a serpent eating its tail, a degraded animal who destroys even himself.
Here's another contrast (note, by the way, the circle in the background):
Quoth Watts:
In reality, you see, there are no separate events.
Also:
And indeed, every so-called 'thing' can be called an 'event'.
Here is Chesterton writing in the same area of thought:
If evolution simply means that a positive thing called an ape turned very slowly into a positive thing called a man, then it is stingless for the most orthodox… But if it means anything more, it means that there is no such thing as an ape to change, and no such thing as a man for him to change into. It means there is no such thing as a thing. At best, there is only one thing, and that is a flux of everything and anything. This is an attack not upon faith, but upon the mind; you cannot think if there are no things to think about. You cannot think if you are not separate from the subject of thought.
In other words, Alan Watts is proposing the 'all is in flux' view, apparently as the correct view. Chesterton is describing it, but in order to decry it. Its disadvantage is that it is an attack upon the mind and makes thought impossible. Two things I don't know concerning Watts' attitude: Whether he would have agreed that it is an attack on the mind. Whether he would have thought it was a bad thing if he did agree it was an attack on the mind.
Another thing I wonder in passing: Whether Watts and Chesterton might have had similar ideas in relation to the doctrine of cause and effect. I don't know; I shall look out for this.
I don't have time or space here to give a detailed comparison of the two, but the few things I have pointed out here are fascinating to me, and I hope to others who might read this.
Here's one point, anyway, on which Watts and Chesterton both seem to agree:
Watts:
The moment you have a situation where you are really in control of things, that is to say, in which the future is almost completely predictable… a completely predictable future is already the past. You've had it. That's not what you want. You want a surprise.
And here is what Chesterton says:
Humility was largely meant as a restraint upon the arrogance and infinity of the appetite of man. He was always outstripping his mercies with his own newly invented needs. His very power of enjoyment destroyed half his joys. By asking for pleasure, he lost the chief pleasure; for the chief pleasure is surprise.
I find it amazing that you found so many excerpts from each author that neatly parallel each other. Either you are very lucky or very good at high-speed research.
The most merciful in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents…A mercy which has been extended to me less than to others.
so the son of a prince, buddha and the son of a carpenter, jesus said respectively, that nothing matters; everything matters.there’s nothing depressing about lightly saying “they’re both right.”it all matters very much to me but i know that i will be gone someday. that doesn’t stop me from enjoying life and accepting it’s various levels of suffering as a payment for the interest i have in being alive.i wouldn’t do anything at all if it didn’t tickle me now in the present moment. and it does tickle me to consider the waves i have been a part of.
Originally posted by I_ArtMan:so the son of a prince, buddha and the son of a carpenter, jesus said respectively, that nothing matters; everything matters.there’s nothing depressing about lightly saying “they’re both right.”No, that wouldn’t be depressing.It occurs to me I could characterise myself as a Buddhist who wishes he were a Christian, but that would probably be a simplification. Or a lie.
I suppose I’ve been lucky enough to regain some of my illusions, if that’s really the way to express it. But the more I think about it, the less I think I really want to say what I am at all, because I’m really ‘none of the above’ as far as I can tell.
i’m afraid i am thoroughly disillusioned.
Thoroughly?
I love the variation on a theme by Lovecraft in the second comment above. :)des
Thank you.
I reject it all. There doesn’t seem to be a philosophy that’s both anti-religion and anti-materialist.
Originally posted by quentinscrisp:Thoroughly?ummm. … when i use a word it means what i mean it to mean. i think alice said that.i still have hope but no expectations anymore. those are the illusions i am alluding to.follow my dream… yes. because that’s why i am alive; to go from here to there. 💡
Originally posted by lesoldatperdu:I reject it all. There doesn’t seem to be a philosophy that’s both anti-religion and anti-materialist.I suppose this would have to depend on what you mean by religion, by philosophy and possibly by materialism. I.E. Does a philosophy become a religion by mere dint of the fact that it’s anti-materialist? By that definition (non-materialist philosophy), religion is fine by me. And possibly by other defintions, too. In fact, even with materialism, the only (or main) thing wrong with it might be a secret agenda to degrade. Materialism is supposed to be the valuing of material things, but as manifest in our world it seems more like the valuing of nothing, or perhaps the valuing of power or control. Matter, in fact, is not worshipped, but is there to be subjugated. Things made of matter – products – are increasingly disposable. And all of this is not done to exalt matter, but to debase humans. We’re not told that we’re made of a wonderful thing called ‘matter’, but that we’re made of ‘mere matter’, and we have to try and join in a ritual of debasement, buying things to throw them away again, in order to assuage the terrible pang of worthlessness in being ‘mere matter’ just for a while. I think philosophy (or simply even thought) is just an unfortunate area in that, at some point you have to express it, but you know that in a sense it’s futile, since yours will be different to everyone else’s. And, in fact, it would be even more futile if it were the same as everyone else’s.Anyway, surely there actually is philosophy that is not religious but still anti-materialist? At what point does it take on the mantle of things that needs to be rejected? Is it simply that any anti-materialist philsophy that is not one’s own is a religion?I think I’m actually at a stage in my life where I’m tired of rejecting things. There has to be, for me anyway, some other way apart from estimating everything as wrong and therefore worthless simply because it’s not an ultimate or universal answer. There’s actually a lot to be said on this subject, but I’m afraid that I might have confused it even by saying as much as I have, and I’ll probably only go deeper into the confusion if I attempt further explanation. But I think there’s something to do with permeability. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with trying ideas out, because without doing so, it’s impossible to get anywhere. If I can easily allow ideas in, I can also easily let go of them. But, of course, we have a long history of people clinging to single ideas, or single packages of associated ideas, and people have all kinds of reasons to hesitate to even think something because of the shadows cast by history.Originally posted by I_ArtMan: when i use a word it means what i mean it to mean.Yes, I do that. Sometimes without even trying.
Originally posted by lesoldatperdu:There doesn’t seem to be a philosophy that’s both anti-religion and anti-materialist.I suppose what I should say is that, if you want a philosophy that is both anti-religion and anti-materialist, then that in itself is evidence that one exists, at least potentially. If you formulated your philosophy, presumably it would be both those things.
Had some more thoughts about philosophy before I went to bed. If I get time, I might write them here today.
I’ve had even more thoughts since, and I haven’t yet even written about the last thoughts I mentioned having.Also, it’s very late, so I doubt I can really say much that is coherent or of interest.One thing: I suppose if we define a religion as something that people must be converted to, then I am certainly against it. The whole idea of ‘conversion’ is somehow odious to me. I’ve tended to think it’s natural to not be anything but myself, but reading Chesterton – this is the downside, perhaps, of reading Chesterton – makes me feel the peril, real or imaginary, of my position, as one of the undefined. As I said, it’s late, and nothing I say here will be complete, and it will therefore all be misinterpreted. No doubt. But what I mean to say is that it makes me understand again the great anxiety which makes a certain kind of rejection necessary for so many people, in order that they know what they are. Unfortunately, this could also – possibly – hinder the development of anything new. There’s a philosophical dialogue by Schopenhauer in which Philalethes and Demopheles are arguing for and against religion. The latter is arguing for, and I think it’s him that says that religion is philosophy for the masses. I think the implied difference (or the difference I deduce) between philosophy and religion in this statement is that philosophy explores the same area as religion, often in the very same language, but is more dialectic.The dialectic, of course, means that the truth is being searched for rather than simply assumed. When I feel sudden anxiety about my undefined nature, I can perhaps resolve that anxiety, and console myself for being a lost, uncommitted ‘agnostic’ by telling myself that being undefined is the path of philosophy rather than religion.There’s an argument that I have often heard used against religion that goes roughly like this:There are a great many different religions and they say different things. They can’t all be right, therefore they must all be wrong.This kind of tosh is bandied about even by people who apparently pride themselves on their logic. I take it that I don’t need to point out the logical weaknesses in the argument. In any case, this is a blanket rejection that allows the people who use the argument to become defined. They are atheists. They know what they are now. They are safe, and even G.K. Chesterton can no longer make them feel anxious. Rejection is important, of course, but so is the possibility of embracing a thing. If we take philosophy as a search for truth, then presumably there’s no point in searching if one doesn’t at least assume that some kind of truth might be found. And then what? Embraced, perhaps.When philosophy embraces something, does it then become religion?
Further thoughts.I think that what the rejection of all things – or at least all things currently on offer – implies is a dilemma, and the dilemma seems to be real enough. Kierkegaard called the dilemma ‘despair’ and gave its various forms with great insight, and for him the solution was Christian. His solution certainly doesn’t work for me.Briefly, the dilemma as it appears to me, goes like this:Christianity offers a solution, but only hand in hand with damnation or the threat of it, and this, to someone like me, is unacceptable.If you take away damnation, however, all you have is a dislocated ‘heaven’, which removes all moral purpose from this life.Perhaps this is okay (perhaps everything really is okay), but if so, the philosophy that says everything is okay doesn’t seem to change anything, or there is a sense in which it is redundant.Remove heaven, then, and you have some form of atheism, which does at least make a difference in the sense of allowing for existentialism, and so on. There is something satisfactory about allowing the ego while it lives, and then saying that it is gone forever. But I’m not sure that meaninglessness and absurdity are ever really vanquished here, and all life ends in a strangely hollow tragedy. Under this model, reproduction is completely unjustifiable.What’s left?Buddhism gives a slightly different position with its fertile nothingness, and I suppose that must be one reason it retains its ‘fascination’ for me, though perhaps fascination is the wrong word for something that seems to fix its eyes forever on extinction. Buddhism makes sense, but unfortunately it seems to me entirely joyless. It’s not something that makes one want to say, “Yes!” and punch the air.Taoism I find preferable to Buddhism, but actually Taoism and Zen Buddhism seem as similar as acid and mushrooms.I guess Taoism would be the mushrooms.Even so, I understand the downside of ‘quietism’, though I seem to have in many ways a quietist temperament. Taoism seems to me a pond for contemplation, and it is very great in that sense, but I’m not sure what else it is.Perhaps Zen is a more practical (in that we know something of the real practice of Zen) form of Taoism, but it is also insanely esoteric in some sense. It seems ridiculous to even consider calling oneself a Zennist.So, again, what is left?Something, I hope.
zenzen is like staying in when your’re going out zen is holding back what is pouring out zen is letting go what is being held back zen provides good results without fear of failure zen is the reconciling force; we are third force blind zen is pure love no strings attached… no axe to grind zen is talking without thought, thinking without words zen can’t be found in a book, yet i give you a book zen is having some tea before opening the package from your friend zen is being there whenever you are needed zen is being more whole, more harmonious zen is never negative, never attacks, never loses, never wrong, never right zen is winning both flag and star zen is not noticing commercials zen is ultimately compassionate zen is sacrificing one’s suffering zen is consciousness i’m in my body zen is a small name like bear or unit zen is without caps zen is never sorry zen is the universe is conscious zen is loving you like myself zen is that there is no time zen is overcoming without trying zen is winning without wanting zen is walking with pain zen is the need to know zen is i wish to be here now zen is healing my self zen is doing zen is cleansingi used to play this online game called acrophobia. i was a wiz at it. i often won the flag and the star dancing on my name. in the running chat of the game i guess i must have exclaimed “that’s zen” a hundred times. finally, someone asked “what do you mean by that?” i told him that it was hard to put into words. i could have told him to read “zen in the art of archery” (eugene herrigel) or “zen flesh, zen bones”.instead i wrote the above and sent it to him.i have always felt that there is a sense and aim to existence.and that i am the one who must provide the meaning. consequently, i believe in nothing formal. i can’t really agree to any of the conditions of any religion or philosophy.i’m just simply here to live and grow wise (if i’m lucky).one of my wisdoms is that we need other people whether we like it or not. it’s part of our hard drive and part of our growing up to consider others and realize that even if they are not like us, every last one of them is just as real as i am.that’s where i credit religion with significance. a form to follow which provides contact with others and an ideal to strive for. it keeps good people busy. and it’s only bad if people take it too seriously. when they don’t understand the tradition they are immersed in they proselytize. then they kill you if you don’t share their beliefs. that’s what is bad about religions. actually, it separates people.and after wearing my poor brain out reading and discussing philosophies i throw them all out. they do not keep me from being flawed in many ways. conscience is built in so i don’t need ethics. if i think something is wrong it probably is.
When I say religion I mean the worship of the supernatural. When I say materialism I mean the worship of the natural. Both of these seem to me to be quislingism. There is something greater than humanity, we are told, and we must reconcile ourselves to it. We must make deals and concessions. I refuse.The veracities of the various dogmas are irrelevant to me; none of them are capable of providing me with a satisfactory solution — it simply isn’t in my nature to be at ease with the universe. Does my discontentment with the universe matter? Or is my discontentment as ineffectual as “wind in dry grass, or rats’ feet over broken glass”?In Genesis, just before Tower of Babel is knocked down, God says, “Behold, the people is one, and they have all one language; and this they begin to do: and now nothing will be restrained from them, which they have imagined to do”. This must be the most optimistic verse in the Bible, because it suggests that the barriers to salvation are being artificially imposed, and that it might be possible for man to circumvent the gatekeeper.One of the most important questions, I think, is “Are we living in a universe where anything is possible, or are the possibilities limited by the laws of some natural or supernatural dogma?”. Can the construction of the Tower of Babel ever be successful? The fact that we are even capable of imagining that it can is encouraging.
Hello.Sorry, can’t answer everything at once right now. Will just write a little.Originally posted by I_ArtMan:finally, someone asked “what do you mean by that?” i told him that it was hard to put into words.The truth is, I often feel as if I have somehow degraded myself, or at least degraded something when I try to put some of my notions about life into words. I think this is why I prefer writing fiction.If it doesn’t sound preposterously pompous, of the forms that I know, Zen is my preferred form of Buddhism. The times that I am critical of Buddhism, I am usually thinking of it apart from Zen, but I don’t know if that’s some kind of invalid idiosyncrasy on my part.Originally posted by lesoldatperdu:When I say religion I mean the worship of the supernatural. When I say materialism I mean the worship of the natural. Both of these seem to me to be quislingism. There is something greater than humanity, we are told, and we must reconcile ourselves to it. We must make deals and concessions. I refuse.I don’t think the recognition of something greater than oneself necessarily leads to a feeling of subjugation. It may do, of course, but I would dare say there are many who have the sense of greater powers and feel it as an affirmation and liberation rather than anything else. Here’s a suggestive passage from Mumonkan, from the translation of Paul Reps:When he enters this condition his ego-shell is crushed and he can shake the heaven and move the earth. He is like a great warrior with a sharp sword. If a Buddha stands in his way, he will cut him down; if a patriarch offers him any obstacle, he will kill him; and he will be free in his way of birth and death. He can enter any world as if it were his own playground.Here’s an essay I enjoyed recently that seems relevant to some of the ideas here:http://des.emory.edu/mfp/jcertain.html
Some quick observations. Basically, I’ve never wanted to die, felt self-loathing, had an identity crisis, etc.. I don’t feel the need to quest, spiritually. I’m completely comfortable with my “ego-consciousness”. I love the human experience. Religion can’t offer me anything worthwhile — I’m already in equilibrium. This might be profound ignorance, but it’s an ignorance I’m content with, so it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. There are lots of external forces trying to knock me out of equilibrium, and the tragedy of my existence is bound up in the fact that they will ultimately succeed, and my inability to adapt to this eventuality.
Well, I certainly sympathise with that.I suppose where I differ is that I have come to consider religion as ‘mine for the taking’, if only I can take it, in a ‘this land is your land’ kind of sense. Since I’ve generally felt life to be humdrum, any areas of experience that are other than earthly are interesting to me… or mainly they are. I never went to church, but from an early age was naturally aware of things that I didn’t trouble to put into words, but which I later realised, when I had come to think of myself as atheist, were basically, in atheist terms, verboten – one must not be allowed to think of such things. The only advantage of atheism is that it is indulgent, to an extent, of egoism, but it is also self-undermining in precisely this area, since it’s headed on a course that will destroy the sources of nourishment for any human emotional sphere, whether you talk of it in terms of ego or soul. Here’s a case in point:http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/3255972/Harry-Potter-fails-to-cast-spell-over-Professor-Richard-Dawkins.htmlIf I say that I am not a masochist, that doesn’t mean that I wish to rid the world of masochism, or that I don’t find it interesting, or don’t think I can learn something from it or enjoy immersing myself imaginatively in a masochistic view of things – for example. For myself, I also don’t feel that I am really so clear cut in what I am and what I not, although I’m very familiar with my own recurring patterns.I’m not sure we ever really know if we understand another person, but, in case it’s necessary, to illustrate that what you’re saying is not entirely alien to me, at the time of my life when I stayed indoors writing pages of poetry that no one would ever read, there was a line in a long poem I wrote that I still remember to this day, which eptimosed for me the horror of existence, and that line was:”The big religion that the individual comes to terms with”.I’m sure this doesn’t need explaining, but the horror lay in the fact that what was big and therefore synonymous with religion did not need to comes to terms with anything – it was the individual who was forced to come to terms with things.
When I wake, I hear the noise of giant machines digging the earth. In fact, they make the building shake. Somehow there is a shadow in this that could at any moment expand into terror. In the past, such shadows have done so often.In this world, it seems to me, I am surrounded by people who say: give up on your dreams, forget it, work, survive, and die. Don’t think, don’t imagine, just work, survive and die. If you work hard enough, you might be rewarded with trinkets and status before you die. This is materialism, and it is, in this world, quite pervasive. It looks to me very much like slavery, but I notice that many who pretend to be champions of freedom, support it. I don’t believe them.Since no one helps us to keep our dreams alive, and for the most part, out of envy or spite or some other perversity, people seem intent on destroying all dreams, it is ‘easy’ (though hellish) to let oneself merely survive and die. Sometimes it seems that’s all there is, all that can be done. In fact, the forces arrayed against one in this sense can be utterly bewildering in their completeness. To do anything but bury one’s dreams can be terrifying.But if dream is madness then madness is preferable to the sanity that is its enemy. As you may gather from this, our starting points are not far removed. Unless I’ve misunderstood you, and what I’ve just written doesn’t mean anything to you.
Originally posted by quentinscrisp:This is materialism, and it is, in this world, quite pervasive. It looks to me very much like slavery, but I notice that many who pretend to be champions of freedom, support it. I don’t believe them. nor do i. i made up my mind early on in life that i would go my own way. if that meant impossible dreams and an imaginary existence i could temper it as i go along. that’s what i’ve done. now it’s a habit to use my imagination as a tool to reconcile my private point of view with the real world of laws and oppressions. my only enemy now is accidents.
Shook or shaken… not sure of the grammar there.Shaken, I suppose, unless shook is an archaic usage with some validity or something.
It seems to me that one’s own way is the only way to go for anything approaching happiness or comfort.Interested as I am in philosophy, and even helpful as I sometimes find it, I often find myself thinking, “Wait a minute, this is not me.” And I cast my mind back to my earliest memories. It’s only that to which I owe alleigance – none of these interlopers. They may have shook the world before I was born, but from the point of view of my mind they are Johnny-come-latelys.
american heritage dictionary has shook as the past tense of shake. also, i might say i am shaken. but i wouldn’t say i am shook. so your instincts were right. i don’t have the oxford at the moment. there may be a rule in the king’s english which would help.i have this useful book called “dictionary of word origins” which says it’s a germanic word only in use as skage in sweden and skagen in norway, but it’s sanskrit originally.but back to topic.as my father said when i said i have no use for mathematics, “nevertheless it’s a good discipline for the mind.” i would apply that to the study of philosophies and religions. but once it’s done it’s done.so far, for example, i haven’t needed to gauge the true height of a tree trigonomically. and both the indian analysis and kierkegaard’s disection of ‘self’, in-itself, for-itself etc. the atman, anaatman, just don’t relate to my observations. i simply see that i am driven by desires and navigate by intellect.my idee’ fixe is probably ‘self-control’ and the lack of it… energy and will. nothing i have ever read helps me sort that out on a practical level.
I could probably do with a bit more discipline, too. I wonder why it’s so difficult.Also:http://www.sacred-texts.com/neu/dun/tago/tago10.htm
that’s what i call a ‘shaggy god story’. anyway, too much dust.i liked the little god crying “i do not know”
Originally posted by I_ArtMan:that’s what i call a ‘shaggy god story’.http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6zXDo4dL7SU&NR=1Originally posted by I_ArtMan:i liked the little god crying “i do not know”Yes, apparently it was about the size of a hare, which is, I think, equivalent to about three or four squirrels.
and that was the shortest video.shakespeare said, “thus may the outward show be least themselves; the world is oft deceived by ornament.” “as you like it” i think.drawn on by what they see when searching for god. and taken in by the associations… it’s a good parable. :idea:why can’t god just be everything? who is going to try to understand everything?
Originally posted by lesoldatperdu:I reject it all.Just going back to this a bit, I wouldn’t like to give the impression that I think rejection is a bad thing. Rejection is, indeed, very necessary. The thing with rejection is that, largely as a matter of human nature (though hopefully not inevitably) if you publicly reject something that someone else has embraced, they often feel their embracing of that thing also to be devalued or rejected or something, whereas, of course, people should be free to reject and embrace as they wish (though there are some extreme manifestations that can’t help ending in conflict). As an example, the times when I have publicly rejected Buddhism (there has been more than one time) I have always found somebody rushing to its defence, as if I mustn’t reject it. Clearly, whether I do or not is entirely up to me, and whether those who defend it wish to embrace it is entirely up to them.In my own case it is absolutely, pragmatically necessary for me to reject Buddhism because it has come to afflict me like a disease. As far as I’m concerned, it is a disease. Curiously, I tend not to have this reaction with what I know of Zen, but with other forms of Buddhism I do. EG. I’ve just been reading a Buddhist treatise by this person:http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alexandra_David-N%C3%A9elShe puts things in a nutshell at one point:The Buddhist creed, as a matter of fact, consists of two short, incisive statements:”All aggregates are impermanent””All things are devoid of self (atman: “ego” or “soul”)”I don’t actually believe this. This is the philosophy that there is no such thing as a house, only bricks. Or, as Maggie Thatcher said, there’s no such thing as society, only individuals. And, there’s actually no such thing as individuals, only streams of atoms. I note with interest that the stream of atoms who believed such a thing married another stream of atoms by the name of Philippe in 1904, but perhaps that was before she believed that there were no such things as people. After all, why would you marry one if you didn’t believe he or she existed?To this I would oppose the following from William James:…as the psychologists tell us, belief and doubt are living attitudes, and involve conduct on our part. Our only way, for example, of doubting, or refusing to believe, that a certain thing is, is continuing to act as if it were not.In other words, if you truly believe that there are no such things as people, then you won’t treat anyone like a person, and this is precisely why I find Buddhism to be vile.So, I just wanted to add this note to make it clear that I have no objection to people rejecting what they have to reject; I do the same.
Here’s a great example of rejection, of which I completely approve:http://www.ligotti.net/showpost.php?p=67914&postcount=3
such invective. i would like to hear his reasons. i watched a couple of videos of u.g. krishnamurti and find him not only very interesting but harmless. at first i thought he was talking about j. krishnamurti and found it hard to believe that he could have sown such hatred.
I believe that there are reasons and I have at least an inkling of them, since I know what it’s like to fight against a mind virus. As I said, there are some things that people have to reject as a matter of absolute necessity, and it doesn’t always make sense to other people, any more than what we embrace always makes sense to other people.To give a slightly different example:http://my.opera.com/quentinscrisp/blog/sredni-vashtarIn that blog post I quote part of Jane Eyre that I think is relevant here, too:”No. St. John, I will not marry you. I adhere to my resolution.”The avalanche had shaken and slid a little forward, but it did not yet crash down.”Once more, why this refusal?” he asked.”Formerly,” I answered, “because you did not love me; now, I reply, because you almost hate me. If I were to marry you, you would kill me. You are killing me now.”His lips and cheeks turned white–quite white.”I SHOULD KILL YOU–I AM KILLING YOU? Your words are such as ought not to be used: violent, unfeminine, and untrue. They betray an unfortunate state of mind: they merit severe reproof: they would seem inexcusable, but that it is the duty of man to forgive his fellow even until seventy-and-seven times.”I had finished the business now. While earnestly wishing to erase from his mind the trace of my former offence, I had stamped on that tenacious surface another and far deeper impression, I had burnt it in.”Now you will indeed hate me,” I said. “It is useless to attempt to conciliate you: I see I have made an eternal enemy of you.”
Having talked about rejection for a bit, I thought I’d mention something that’s not rejection. I noticed that on page 6 of my copy of Alan Watts’ The Book on the Taboo Against Knowing Who You Are, G.K. Chesterton is referenced again, and again approvingly, this despite the obvious fact that the respective philosophies of Chesterton and Watts are seemingly quite antagonistic. The reference made was a separate reference (not the one mentioned in the post above). Watts has clearly read and enjoyed Chesterton’s work, despite their obvious differences, and is also clearly fond of it. This gives me a warm feeling.