⏑−⏑−¦−⏑⏑¦−⏑−⏑−¦¦⏑−⏑−¦−⏑⏑¦−⏑−⏑− Vaṁśastha
tato
bhramadbhir-diśi
dīna-mānasair-anujjvalair-bāṣpa-hatekṣaṇair-naraiḥ
|
⏑−⏑−¦−⏑⏑¦−⏑−⏑−¦¦⏑−⏑−¦−⏑⏑¦−⏑−⏑−
nivāryamāṇāv-iva
tāv-ubhau puraṁ śanair-apasnātam-ivābhijagmatuḥ
|| 8.7
8.7
Thus,
as though being slowed down,
by
men wandering in their direction,
men
with dispirited minds,
Men
no longer blazing,
men
whose eyes tears had knocked out,
The
two together approached the city –
As
silently as if going to a funeral bath.
COMMENT:
Back
at the end of the 19th century EB Cowell translated
today's verse:
Then those two, —
who were as it were silently forbidden by the sad inhabitants who
were wandering in that direction, their brightness gone and their
eyes dim with tears, — slowly entered the city which seemed all
bathed in gloom. (EBC)
EBC's
“all bathed in gloom” is ajaḥsnātam. EHJ indicates that the
old Nepalese manuscript had ayasnātam, corrected in a later hand to
ajasnātam, and this was presumably the basis for EBC's text. EHJ
amended to the more understandable apasnātam (“a funeral bathing
rite”), which he referenced to the
Rāmāyaṇa (2.41.20). Subsequently he translated the verse:
Then those two came
slowly to the city as if going to a funeral bathing rite, while
melancholy men wandered round them, depressed and with eyes
struggling with tears, and seemed to stop them from proceeding.
(EHJ)
For
today's verse as for other verses, among the translations of the
three professors it is the most recent translation, that of Patrick
Olivelle, which brings out the ostensible meaning most clearly:
Then, the two slowly
went to the city, as if they were going to a funeral bath, hindered
as if by men rambling around, eyes filled with tears, dejected and
downcast. (PO)
Once again, then,
today's verse is ostensibly describing a scene of desolation and
misery, where men rambling around aimlessly are getting in the way of
Chandaka and Kanthaka, blocking their progress.
And though it is the
most recent translation which best conveys this ostensible meaning,
the best clue to the hidden meaning, as I read it, is in the earliest
translation, that of EBC – and the hint is in EBC's phrase “who
were wandering in that direction.”
The ostensible meaning
is as per EHJ's “wandered round them” and PO's “rambling
around”; but I think the real or hidden meaning is as per EBC's
“wandering in that direction.”
“In that direction”
or “in their direction” or “in a [single] direction” (diśi;
locative, singular) means, if we continue to follow the thread of hidden
meaning running through these opening verses, in the direction of emptiness (śūnyam; BC8.5). And those who wander in the
direction of emptiness might symbolize Zen practitioners everywhere,
led by those ancient patriarchs who went forth into the wandering
life.
That
being so, every other element of today's verse needs to be dug into
in that light, so as to have the irony extracted out of it.
Thus,
dīna-mānasaiḥ
(EBC: “sad”; EHJ “melancholy”; PO: “dejected”) might mean
“dispirited” in the sense of no longer so zealous, no longer so
enthusiastic, no longer so exuberant – in short, no longer
idealistic.
The same goes for
anujjvalaiḥ (EBC: “their brightness gone”; EHJ “depressed”;
PO: “downcast”), which might mean “no longer blazing” with
evangelical zeal – i.e., again, no longer blazing with idealism.
Bāṣpa-hatekṣaṇaiḥ,
“eyes knocked out by tears,” in the same ironic spirit, can be
read as a description of those whose former romantic views have all
been smashed.
Nivāryamāṇau (EBC:
“silently forbidden”; EHJ “seemed to stop them from
proceeding”; PO: “hindered”) might mean “being slowed down”
in the sense of being taught or encouraged not to be in a rush, not
to give in to hurried end-gaining.
Tāv-ubhau (EBC:
“those two”; EHJ/PO “the two”) means not only the thinking
Chandaka and not only the instinctive Kanthaka – and, by extension,
it might be intended to mean not only practice with the mind and not
only practice with the body.
Puram, which means not
only “city” but also “fortress” might be intended to
represent emptiness as a fortress or a citadel.
And going
śanair-apasnātam-iva, “slowly/silently/sedately/gradually as if
to a funeral bath,” might be intended to suggest action that –
whether attended by negative emotion or not – is deeply reflective.
To understand today's
verse like this, as being, below the surface, all about Zen practice
under the auspices of the ancients, it is most probably necessary to
be a Zen practitioner oneself, following – śanaiḥ śanaiḥ,
softly, softly catchy monkey – in the footsteps in the ancients.
How do those ancient
wanderers confound the hurried end-gaining of our minds, and at the
same time (tāv-ubhau) slow down our
physical movements? The answer I think is by their very wandering in
a particular direction, as when Cesar Millan, preferably accompanied
by the supremely chilled pit bull terrier Daddy, would take a dog in
need of rehabilitation for a directed wander, i.e. a walk.
I do keep coming back
to Cesar Millan, the Mexican dog-whisperer, because though he is
evidently still a work in progress – not unlike yours truly – I
really appreciate the truth of his approach. Cesar is not renowned for his grasp of Sanskrit, and he does not occupy any lofty academic perch, but in my book Cesar understands the real meaning of today's verse a million times better than the three professors, and also a lot better than me – though evidently not as well, in Cesar's own opinion, as a certain late lamented pit bull terrier understood it.
Some dog lovers in England wring their hands about Cesar's methods because of the way he
sometimes uses a sharp physical contact to snap a dog's mind out of
where it ought not to be. (That bastion of self-righteous dog-loving pomposity the RSPCA calls it "aversive training.") But fuck those "caring" pompous, self-righteous
English twits who can't get past their own limited views and opinions
(mirror principle alert?). Cesar's heart, at least where helping dogs
is concerned, has very evidently always been in the right place.
Whatever direction he is going in with his dogs, towards balance,
towards emptiness, I also am going in that direction. To be very frank, I don't give a fuck about Zen Buddhism or about the FM Alexander Technique. Being a member of the American Zen Teachers Association, or being a qualified AT teacher, is absolutely no guarantee of really knowing anything. But Cesar is a man of prajṇā guided by prajṇā in pursuit of prajṇā, and the meaning of my life is to go in that direction.
Speaking of going in
one direction, I am not a great one for reciting, but there is one recitation
I have come to value more and more over the past few years. I like the somehow stupid and jumbled effort it represents to preserve an original teaching in its pure original form.
The verse in Japanese
is
JI-HO-SAN-SHI-ISHI-FU
SHI-SON-BU-SA-MO-KO-SA
MO-KO-HO-JO-HO-RO-MI
MO-KO-HO-JO-HO-RO-MI
These twenty syllables
in themselves are meaningless even to a Japanese. They represent
symbollically in Japanese pronunciation the sounds of Chinese
practitioners reciting a combination of Chinese and Sanskrit words.
But mainly Sanskrit – out of the 20 syllables in the three-line
verse, 13 syllables represent Sanskrit words.
Thus in the first line
FU represents buddha.
In the second line
BU-SA represents bodhisattva, and MO-KO-SA represents mahasattva.
And in the third line
MO-KO-HO-JO-HO-RO-MI represents mahā-prajñā-pāramita
In conclusion, then,
this morning I have been twice reminded that, whatever state I happen
to be in this morning, and notwithstanding the principle that the
first dhyāna is born of separateness, I am, as it were, in a pack of
fellow practitioners – buddhas, bodhisattvas and mahasattvas –
all wandering ahead of me in one direction (diśi), in pursuit of and
guided by the great transcendent virtue which is knowing. But not intellectual knowing. Real knowing.
JI-HO-SAN-SHI-I-SHI-FU
SHI-SON-BU-SA-MO-KO-SA
MO-KO-HO-JO-HO-RO-MI
MO-KO-HO-JO-HO-RO-MI
JI-HO: 十方,
ten directions
SAN-SHI: 三世
, three times
I-SHI: 一切,
all
FU: buddha
SHI: 諸,
all (expressed plurality)
SON|: 尊,
venerable
BU-SA:
bodhisattva
MO-KO-SA:
mahasattva
MO-KO-HO-JO-HO-RO-MI:
mahā-prajñā-pāramita
十方三世一切
buddha
諸尊 bodhisattva-mahasattva
mahā-prajñā-pāramita
In the ten
directions and the three times, all buddhas
Venerable
bodhisattvas and mahasattvas
Mahā-prajñā-pāramita
VOCABULARY
tataḥ:
ind. from that place , thence ; in that place , there ; thereupon ,
then , after that , afterwards ; from that , in consequence of that ,
for that reason , consequently
bhramadbhiḥ
= inst. pl. m. pres. part. bhram: to wander
diśi
(loc. sg.): f. quarter , region , direction , place
dīna-mānasaiḥ
(inst. pl. m.): with distressed minds
dīna:
mfn. scarce, scanty ; depressed , afflicted , timid , sad ; miserable
, wretched ; n. distress , wretchedness
√dī:
to decay , perish
mānasa:
n. mind
anujjvalaiḥ
(inst. pl. m.): not blazing up; EBC: brightness gone; EHJ:
melancholy; PO: downcast
an-:
(privative prefix) not, un-
ujjvala:
mfn. blazing up , luminous , splendid , light
uj-
√ jval : to blaze up , flame , shine
bāṣpa-hatekṣaṇaiḥ
(inst. pl. m.): eyes afflicted by tears
bāṣpa:
m. tear
hata:
mfn. struck, smitten, lost ; marred ; knocked out (as an eye);
visited by, afflicted by
ikṣaṇa:
eye [?]
naraiḥ
(inst. pl.): m. a man , a male , a person (pl. men , people);
nivāryamāṇau
= nom. dual causative passive pres. part. ni- √ vṛ : to hold
back from (abl. , rarely acc.) , prohibit , hinder , stop , prevent ,
withhold , suppress , forbid
iva:
like, as if
tau
(nom. dual): they two
ubhau
= nom. dual m. ubha: both
puram
(acc. sg.): n. a fortress , castle , city , town ; the body
śanaiḥ:
ind. quietly , softly , gently , gradually , alternately
apasnātam
(acc. sg. n.): mfn. bathing during mourning or upon the death of a
relation
ajaḥsnātam [EBC]:
“[the city which seemed] all bathed in gloom”
snāta: mfn. bathed ,
washed , cleansed or purified from
apa-: ind. (as a prefix
to nouns and verbs , expresses) away , off , back
iva:
like, as if
abhijagmatuḥ
= 3rd pers. dual perf. abhi- √ gam: to go near to ,
approach (with acc.)
車匿與白馬 悵怏行不前
問事不能答 遲遲若尸行
問事不能答 遲遲若尸行
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