⏑−⏑−¦−⏑⏑¦−⏑−−¦¦−−⏑−¦−⏑⏑¦−⏑−− Upajāti
(Kīrti)
tataḥ kumāraś-ca sa
cāśva-gopas-tasmiṁs-tathā yāti
visismiyāte |
−−⏑−¦−⏑⏑¦−⏑−−¦¦−−⏑−¦−⏑⏑¦−⏑−−
āraṇyake vāsasi caiva
bhūyas-tasminn-akārṣṭāṁ
bahu-mānam-āśu || 6.64
6.64
Then
the prince and the horse-master (aśva-gopa)
Marvelled
at his departing in such a manner;
And of
that clothing of the forest
All the
more highly did they think.
COMMENT:
Apologies
for the late posting. I was without an internet connection on
Thursday.
On a
grammatical query, in the 2nd pāda of today's verse the
locative yāte would seem to fit better with the locative tasmin. The
upajāti metre, however, requires not a long syllable like the te of
yāte but rather a short syllable like the ti of yāti. [But see clarification in comments below].
EBC translated tasmiṁs-tathā yāti
as “as he was thus going,” EHJ as “when he departed thus,”
and PO as “as he departed in that wise,” and so the meaning does
not appear to be in doubt – unless I am missing something?
I have included the original Sanskrit
word aśvagopa in the 1st pāda for obvious reasons –
euphonically it is too close to Aśvaghoṣa to have been an
accident.
The meaning to be inferred, at least as
I infer it, is confidence on the part of Aśvaghoṣa that when it
came to revering the wonderful power of the kaṣāya to see off
pesky celestial beings, he (=the horse-master) and the Buddha (=the
prince) were carrying one pole on their two shoulders.
The first I saw of a kaṣāya was my
teacher Gudo Nishijima wearing rather a shiny silk one. He “the
Reverend Gudo Wafu Nishijima,” had one, but others in his group, at that time, didn't have one. And, as I mentioned before, the first I read of the
kaṣāya was in Gudo's original translation of Shobogenzo in which
it was referred to as “the ritual robe.”
But, I dare say, on the basis of my own
reading of what Dogen wrote, which came several years later, and even
more explicitly on the basis of what Aśvaghoṣa is saying here, in
no way should the kaṣāya be thought of as a “ritual robe.” In
being misled by the word “ritual,” as in several other matters,
the most fundamental of which was the matter of how to direct the
spine upwards in sitting-meditation, I was given by my teacher a bum
steer.
That I sought out the teacher I did, I
totally confess and repent, was a function of the many misdeeds I had
done, since times without beginning, stemming from greed, anger, and
delusion.
What it is truly to direct the spine
upwards in sitting-meditation nobody can say in words. The right
thing which does itself is not accessible to the human intellect. But
we can look at somebody (for example in the mirror) stiffening his
neck and pulling his chin down, and say “No, that is not it.”
Similarly with the kaṣāya. No words are adequate to express its
mysterious merit. But we can look at the translation “ritual robe,”
and say “No, it is not that.”
If we feel angry about having been
given a bum steer in life when we were young and impressionable, we
might silently go further than that and think: Fucking rubbish!
“Ritual robe”? Fucking rubbish translation!
But that kind of instinctive response,
genuine and heartfelt though it might be, might not necessarily be
completely of the forest. Going into the forest does not
necessarily mean leaving one's reason behind in the city and going
completely wild. It doesn't mean blaming others for having gone wrong, as if there were no such thing as individual responsibility for one's own karma.
No, rather than just reacting
emotionally to the words “ritual robe,” a better way might be to
engage one's reason and explain what is wrong with those words as a
translation of the Sanskrit kaṣāya.
“Ritual robe” is a bad translation
because – though the translator's intention may have not been like
that – the word “ritual” tends, for a reader whose mother
tongue is English, to point to the kaṣāya as something akin to the
religious vestment of an archbishop or a cardinal or something. But
Aśvaghoṣa as I hear him is now clarifying for us that the kaṣāya
is not that kind of religious vestment. It is not of heaven. It is
not of the divine. It is not of a religious congregation
(a deva-saṅga). It is of the forest.
What does it mean that the original
kaṣāya was vanya or āraṇyaka,
“of the forest”? Does it mean that the kaṣāya was a practical
item of clothing? Does it mean that the kaṣāya was a piece of kit
or forest gear whose value was purely utilitarian? Yes and no. Yes,
of course the kaṣāya has practical or utilitarian value. But no,
it is not as simple as that.
The
forest, I would like to submit, especially since I am living next to
one at the moment, is both a teacher of nature and our natural
teacher.
Yesterday
I identified myself as one who fucking loves science – science
being the study of nature, and fucking maybe suggesting a certain
profane contempt for the unscientific, the irrational, the religious.
The purpose of a robe of the forest, however, might be to facilitate
a connection with nature even more intimate than the connection
realized by studying nature in a scientific manner. Still, do not
call it religious.
Alexander
work is really a scientific approach to the study of natural
phenomena, and particularly the study of how habits get in the way of
upward direction of a person's energy. And sitting-meditation, for
me, for one, includes that kind of investigation, so that the
sitting-meditator may gradually come to know natural phenomena
better, including the act of knowing itself.
But
again, being of the forest is more than simply fucking loving
science. It might be a question of loving nature, and being loved
right back by nature. And not only that. It might be a question of
being taught by nature, and – in the final analysis – teaching
nature back, at least in the sense of holding up the mirror to
nature.
The
forest, when I go into it, is not originally religious and not
originally profane. There are originally no churches, mosques or
temples, and few if any people. What is originally there in
abundance, by definition, is a lot of trees, growing upwards and
outwards, but primarily upwards out of the earth.
If I
have thus learned anything of what it really means to be of
the forest, I have learned
it mainly in the context of Alexander work. The direction my teacher
imparted to me with his hands while I was in Japan was not of the
forest; it was of the Japanese Zen temple. It was a downward
direction purporting to be up, which originated not with my teacher
himself but with a certain habitual rigidity in Japanese society.
Kaṣāya-worshippers who put Master Kodo Sawaki up on a lofty Zen
pedestal should know that he also was not immune from it.
VOCABULARY
tataḥ: ind. then
tataḥ: ind. then
kumāraḥ
(nom. sg.): m. the prince
ca: and
sa
(nom. sg. m.): he, the
ca: and
aśva-gopaḥ
(nom. sg.): m. the attendant of a horse, Bcar
gopa: a
cowherd , herdsman , milkman (considered as a man of mixed caste ) ;
a protector , guardian
tasmin (loc. sg.): at him
tathā:
ind. in that manner
yāti = loc. sg. m.. yā: to go , go away
yāti = loc. sg. m.. yā: to go , go away
yāti =
3rd
pers. sg. yā: to go , go away
yāte =
loc. sg. m. past. part. yā: to go , go away
visismiyāte
= 3rd
pers. dual perf. vi- √ smi: to wonder , be surprised or astonished
at (instr. loc. , or abl.)
āraṇyake
(loc. sg. n.): mfn. forest , wild , forest-born , produced in a
forest , relating to a forest or a forest animal ; m. a forester
vāsasi
(loc. sg.): n. clothing
ca: and
eva:
(emphatic)
bhūyaḥ (ind.): more
tasmin
(loc. sg.): towards it
akārṣṭām
= 3rd
pers. dual perf. kṛ: to do, make
bahu-mānam
(acc. sg.): m. high esteem or estimation , great respect or regard
for (with loc. of pers. or thing)
√man:
to think
āśu:
ind. quickly , quick , immediately , directly (expletive – see EHJ
note; cf. SN6.9)
太子及車匿 見生奇特想
太子及車匿 見生奇特想
此必無事衣 定非世人服
内心大歡喜 於衣倍増敬
3 comments:
Yes, of course the kaṣāya has practical or utilitarian value. But no, it is not as simple as that.
that's for sure and its funny to think that a simple robe allowed Buddhism to flourish
[Kindly sent by H.I. via email]
Thank you for keeping on with the blog.
yāte would be the locative (masc. sg.) of the past passive participle; so tasmin .. yāte would mean (normally) 'when he had gone'. As you say, that would not fit the metre. yāti here must not be (though indeed in itself it could be) the third person present sg. (active) from yā, which could hardly be construed (your justified unease comes, I would guess, from sensing this at some level), but should be understood to be the locative (masc. sg.) of the present active participle of the same verb. So it does agree with tasmin, and the syntax works. Rather than 'when he had gone', tasmin ... yāti means, then, something like 'as/while he was going'. EBC's translation is very literal; EHJ's and PO's slightly freer (but not excessively so).
I have recently recommended Mining Aśvaghoṣa's Gold to some people (in Taiwan); whether anyone will actually follow you regularly I do not know.
All the best,
H.I.
Many thanks, the clarification is much appreciated.
Somehow I knew that yāti must be the locative of the present active participle, but since yāti did not
show up as a participle in the stemmer of the Sanskrit Heritage Dictionary, but only as a verb, I
lacked the confidence to trust my judgement. Such are the perils of learning Sanskrit grammar on the
hoof, rather than from first principles.
If you don't object, tomorow I shall post the comment you tried to post from Taiwan -- since jiblet
and one or two others might also appreciate it.
Thanks again,
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