BUDDHACARITA 5.71: Transcending Secular Law

⏑⏑−⏑⏑¦−⏑−⏑−−¦¦⏑⏑−−⏑⏑¦−⏑−⏑−−   Aupacchandasaka

pratighya tataḥ sa bhartur-ājñāṁ viditārtho 'pi narendra-śāsanasya |

⏑⏑−⏑⏑¦−⏑−⏑−−¦¦⏑⏑−−⏑⏑¦−⏑−⏑−−

manasīva pareṇa codyamānas-tura-gasyānayane matiṁ cakāra || 5.71

5.71

He acquiesced, on those grounds, in his master's wisdom 

 –  Though he knew the meaning of a king's command – 

And he made the decision,

as if his mind were being moved by another,

To bring the horse.

COMMENT:

Was my tirade against Islaam  yesterday an example of the mirror principle, whereby I project onto “the other” some faulty tendency that I have failed to eliminate in myself?

If the cap fits, so the saying goes, wear it. On reflection, I have been known to run the odd red traffic light in situations where it seemed to me to be appropriate to do so, like wanting to turn left at a junction when riding a motor bike on deserted streets in the middle of the night. Not to mention other more public instances of breaking generally accepted rules and conventions.

And when you have dug yourself into a hole, so another saying goes, stop digging. Unless the task you have set yourself is to keep on digging....

The first seam to be mined in today's verse appears on the surface as “accepting his lord's command” (EBC) or “the groom accepted his lord's bidding” (EHJ) or “he acceded to his master's command” (PO). These are translations of the verb pratigṛhya (accepting), and of its object bhartur-ājñām which on the surface means the command of a lord or master but which really might be intended to suggest the Buddha's wisdom.

Aśvaghoṣa also plays on the ambiguity of ājñā in the title of the concluding canto of Saundara-nanda, his epic story of Beautiful Joy. The title of that canto is ājñā-vyākaraṇaḥ, which I struggled to translate to my own satisfaction, due to the multiple possible meanings of ājñā, including: 1. deep knowledge, knowledge of liberation, 2. order, command, or 3. authority, unlimited power. Originally, in any event, ājñā is from the root √jñā, to know, and so the word suggests something to do with knowing or wisdom. The canto title I went with in the end, in the effort to retain some of the ambiguity of the original, was “Knowing Affirmation.” But “Revelation of Deep Insight” or “Revelation of the [Buddha's] Wisdom” might be translations of ājñā-vyākaraṇaḥ that better convey the deeper meaning.

Speaking of canto titles, the title of Canto 6 in Buddha-carita, the present epic tale of Awakened Action, is chandaka-nivartanaḥ, “The Turning Back of Chandaka.” Ostensibly this describes the prince's turning back of Chandaka, but Aśvaghoṣa's real agenda might be to examine Chandaka's service of his master as an example of the practice of turning back. The point of the Canto might really be, below the surface, to ask: what kind of turning back does serving a true master involve? The 1st pāda of today's verse, as I read it, represents a first step in posing that question. At the same time, it might contain the ultimate answer to that question, and the answer might be pratigṛhya bhartur-ājñām, acquiescing in the master's wisdom.

Read in that light, tataḥ in the 1^st pāda, which ostensibly means “subsequent to that” or “then” might rather be intended to mean “consequent to that” or “on those grounds” – in which case, the grounds in question are those words expressing the truth of spontaneous flow that have just flowed spontaneously out of the prince's mouth. Those words of the young prince might be intended as a metaphor for the words fitted to actions by which a true master announces himself as a true master.

The point the 2^nd pāda is intended to make, then, might be the point about which Muslims do not need any convincing, namely “Whatever the implications, do not let yourself be bossed about by any old person in authority, and do not always feel obliged to obey secular roles or to follow secular convention, but submit only to that wisdom which is the wisdom of a master who you have ascertained to be a true master.”

Atrocities like the recent murder in Woolwich occur when ignorant, ill-educated people, failing to recognize their own human fallibility, too readily assume that they know what the wisdom of their true master is, without having fully acquiesced in that wisdom with their whole bodies and minds. The anger that they feel, therefore, they do not recognize as a fault in themselves, but they feel it to be righteous anger, and act upon it as such.

If I angrily assert the view that the black Muslim other, before seeking to assert his own views on infidels, ought to study for himself what it means to acquiesce in his master's wisdom, what am I getting my knickers in such a twist about? What am I really saying, and to who? 

The mirror principle, so far, remains unbroken. 

When Aśvaghoṣa describes Chandaka as viditārthaḥ, “knowing the meaning/implications,” I think he is suggesting that Chandaka knew what it meant to disobey the king. Śāsana (from the root √ śās, to punish) means “command” or “ruling” but before that it means “punishment.” And Aśvaghoṣa's ancient Indian audience would have understood, without him having to spell it out, that the punishment for disobeying the king might be a lot more serious than three points on one's driving license.

The 3^rd pāda, as I read it, again brings us back to the truth of spontaneous flow. The prince, as described in yesterday's verse, has been spontaneously expressing the truth of spontaneous flow, and Chandaka in today's verse feels himself being moved in that flow.

On that basis, acquiescing in the master's wisdom, not doing any wrong but allowing his mind to be cleansed in the waters of spontaneous flow, Chandaka participates in a mysterious and miraculous event: matim cakāra, he makes a decision.

Moreover, it was not the kind of decision one makes at 6.30 am to get out of bed, before eventually struggling to one's feet at 7.30. And it was not the kind of decision one makes at 10.30 pm to sit for 30 minutes before giving up and going to bed at 10.45. It was not the kind of decision I made two hours ago to keep this comment short, remembering that less is often more. 

I think Chandaka's decision was more akin to the decision I made five years ago to translate Aśvaghoṣa's writings at the rate of one verse per day. So far so good or so far so bad I don't know. But so far so far.

And so far my conclusion is this:

If pratigṛhya bhartur-ājñām, acquiescing in the Buddha's wisdom,

is like a spontaneous flow of H20,

then kāñcanam-āsanam, golden sitting,

might be like a spontaneous flow of water.

VOCABULARY

pratigṛhya = abs. prati- √ grah: to take hold of , grasp , seize ; to take (as a present or into possession) , appropriate , receive , accept ; to assent to , acquiesce in , approve

tataḥ: ind. then; from that , in consequence of that , for that reason , consequently

sa (nom. sg. m.): he

bhartuḥ (gen. sg.): m a bearer; a preserver , protector , maintainer , chief , lord , master

ājñām (acc. sg.): f. order , command

viditārthaḥ (nom. sg. m.): the purport being known to him

vidita: mfn. known , understood , learnt , perceived

artha: m. aim , purpose, motive ; sense, meaning

api: even, though

narendra-śāsanasya (gen. sg. n.): the king's decree ; punishment of a lord of men

narendra: m. m. " man-lord " , king

śāsana: n. punishment , chastisement , correction ; n. an order , command , edict , enactment , decree , direction

manasi (loc. sg.): n. mind

iva: like, as if

pareṇa (inst. sg.): m. another (different from one's self) , a foreigner , enemy , foe , adversary

codyamānaḥ = nom. sg. m. causative passive part. cud: to impel , incite , cause to move quickly , accelerate ; to inspire , excite , animate ; to urge on

tura-gasya (gen. sg.): m. " going quickly " , a horse

ā-nayane (loc. sg.): n. bringing , leading near

matim cakāra = 3^rd pers. sg. perf. matim √ kṛ: to set the heart on , make up one's mind , resolve , determine

車匿内思惟 應奉太子教
脱令父王知 復應深罪責 

諸天加神力 不覺牽馬來 

BUDDHACARITA 5.70: Moving Spontaneously Towards Wellness

⏑⏑−⏑⏑¦−⏑−⏑−−¦¦⏑⏑−−⏑⏑¦−⏑−⏑−−   Aupacchandasaka

hriyam-eva ca saṁnatiṁ ca hitvā śayitā mat-pramukhe yathā yuvatyaḥ |

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vivte ca yathā svayaṁ kapāṭe niyataṁ yātum-anāmayāya kālaḥ || 5.70

5.70

As the women, abandoning all shame and submission,

Relaxed in front of me;

And as the doors opened, spontaneously,

It is doubtless time to depart, in pursuit of wellness.”

COMMENT:

First up, speaking of submission, I would like to get something off my chest about Islaam. Islaam is a way of peace said Mayor of London Boris Johnson yesterday. But very evidently Islaam is not a way of peace, not the way Muslims in this country practise it. Islaam originally means, so they say, submission to the will of Allah but many British Muslims are evidently happy to use such submission to Allah as a pretext – ironically – for arrogant non-submission to the rule of the law of the country they are living in.

So this week on the news I have seen two imams, or Muslim religious leaders, one from Oxford and one from London, saying that the crimes committed by former members of their congregations have nothing to do with Islaam.

Whereas it is obvious that the sexual grooming of teenage girls in Oxford, and Wednesday's murder of a soldier on a street in Woolwich, were commited in the first instance by Asian men brought up as Muslims and in the second instance in the name of Islaam. So those crimes, from where I sit, had everything to do with Islaam.

Generally speaking it is regarded as polite to show respect towards other people's beliefs, and Britain is a polite and tolerant country. (Though we do not always go so far out of our way to show respect as people do in America, where tolerance of religious nonsense is enshrined in the Constitution.) So when Boris Johnson says that Islaam is a religion of peace, we are liable to stifle our doubts. At the same time, there is no law in Britain against telling the truth as you see it. And the truth as I see it is that Islaam as practised by many Muslims in Britain is evidently not a way of peace – any more than Christianity, Judaism, True Buddhism, or any other ideology is a way of peace.

Speaking for myself, when I am in England I submit to the law of this land; when I am in France I submit to the law of that one; and when I am sitting I submit, as far as I am able to submit, to that rule number two of the universe which may be called the law of spontaneous flow – which brings me back to today's verse.

The key in today's verse to identifying where the ostensible and hidden meanings diverge, lies in the ambiguity of yathā, whose ambiguity is fortunately mirrored in the ambiguity of the English word “as.”

On the surface the two yathā in today's verse express a relation of reason (yathā = as, since, because), and so the strange behaviour of the women and the mysterious swinging open of the doors are auspicious omens, because of which the prince sees that it is time to depart.

Hence, translating yathā as “since,” EBC translated:

“Since abandoning all shame and modesty these women lay before me as they did, and the two doors opened of their own accord, verily the time is come to depart for my true health.” (EBC)

A very different hidden meaning of today's verse emerges, however, when those two yathā are understood to mean “in the manner of” or “like” – the manner in question being the manner of spontaneous flow.

Seeing such a clear divergence in meanings, which previous translators have not seen, hingeing on the ambiguity of yathā, is one of those moments as a translator when one punches the air and thinks “Yes! Maybe these efforts of mine will not be entirely in vain after all.”

On the surface, then, in the 1^st and 2^nd pādas, shame (hriya) and submission / deference / humility / modesty (saṁnati) are virtues, but below the surface the hidden meaning is that the virtue to emulate is not shame or submission but rather the abandoning (hitvā) that leads to spontaneous release or relaxation (śayita).

Again, in the 3^rd pāda svayam, which means “by themsleves” or “of their own accord” or “spontaneously,” alludes to that overarching law of the universe which is infinitely more real, more practical, and more amenable to investigation via testable hypothesis, than is a primitive, stone-age belief in Allah.

The overarching law I refer to is, of course, the 2^nd law of thermodynamics which describes the tendency that all energy has spontaneously to spread out. Energy tends to spread out, the 2^nd law states, and energy will spread out spontaneously unless prevented from doing so by activation energy barriers.

Hence a translation that aimed more fully to bring out the hidden meaning of today's verse (at the expense of blotting out the ostensible meaning) might read:

“In the manner of the women, abandoning all shame and deference,

And spreading out in front of me;

And in the manner of the doors spontaneously swinging open,

It is doubtless time to depart, in pursuit of wellness.”

This hidden meaning makes sense in the practical realm of Alexander work, wherein the spontaneous spreading out of what should spontaneously spread out (primarily the spiral musculature of the torso, so that vital capacity is increased), provides a physical criterion for mental abandonment or lack of it.

Moving on to the 4^th pāda, the first thing to note is that EHJ changed the Sanskrit text to niyataṁ yātum ato mam' adya kālaḥ, so that the prince is saying “It is doubtless time today for me to flee this place.” Hence:

“Since these women lay in my presence without regard to their own modesty or to respect for me, and since the doors opened of themselves, most certainly it is the time to-day for me to depart hence.” (EHJ)

If we accept EHJ's amendment, the only meaning that a sitting-practitioner could take from the 4th pāda would be that Aśvaghoṣa was holding up the prince as an example of idealistic thinking, i.e. of how preferably NOT to think in sitting practice. This is how I read amṛtaṁ prāptum-ito 'dya me yiyāsā ("I wish today to flee from here, in order to obtain the nectar of immortality") in BC5.68. But I don't think that sense fits here, especially in view of the Chinese translation.

In general the Chinese translation is not a reliable basis for intervening to amend the text of the original Nepalese manuscript. But the Chinese translation is always an acceptable basis for NOT intervening to change the original Nepalese manuscript, and there does seem to be such a basis in

觀此諸瑞相 

Contemplating these auspicious signs,

第一義之筌

[I see] a means of fishing out the paramount truth.

筌 (“a means of fishing out”), it should be explained, originally means a bamboo trap for catching fish in a river; and hence a means for catching something that, without some concrete means, is impossible to catch.

I think the Chinese translation supports the original text because the original Sanskrit word an-āmayāya literally means either "towards wellness" or  "for 'The Auspicious One' (Śiva)" and the latter reading may have put into the Chinese translator's mind the sense of 瑞相, auspicious signs. More tellingly 第一義之筌 “a means of fishing out the paramount truth” conveys something of the positive sense of going in an auspicious direction, as opposed to the negative sense implied by EHJ's version of wanting to flee from this place. 

The final thing in today's verse to reflect on, then, is that the dative case of  an-āmayāya  expresses movement towards, or direction. 

If, with our backsides planted on a round black cushion, we pursue what we should pursue, what kind of pursuit might that be – directed to an end, or directed in the flow of a process?

Is it practical to set our sights on some distant object that, in the first instance, we are only able to conceive as a word, or as a metaphor, like pari-nirvāna, or like an oil lamp going out because all the oil is used up?

Is it more practical not to have any particular object in view but rather to have a general sense in which direction spontaneously to go in, like “towards wellness”?

Today's verse puts us in mind of spontaneous flow here and now rather than any putative pot of gold over the rainbow. Still, might the most practical attitude, in the middle way, be to investigate, not in theory but in practice, the advantages and disadvantages of each approach?

Alexander was overheard to tell an individual who was probably too sold on the former approach: 'Don't you see that if you get perfection today, you will be farther away from perfection than you have ever been?' Herein lies the general principle of devoting oneself to a process, getting in a stream of spontaneous flow, and not worrying overly much about reaching any fixed end-point (for in that very fixity would reside the essence of imperfection).

At the same time, in his book Constructive Conscious Control of the Individual, Alexander wrote in glowing terms of conscious control, as primarily a plane to be reached: 

The “means-whereby” principle... involves a reasoning consideration of the causes of the conditions present, and an indirect instead of a direct procedure on the part of the person endeavouring to gain the desired “end.” Ths indirect procedure... establishes the conditions essential to the increasing development of potentialities.... In this connexion I wish it to be understood that throughout this book I use the term conscious guidance and control to indicate, primarily, a plane to be reached rather than a method of reaching it.

What today's verse is hinting at, I venture to submit, is spontaneous flow as the hallmark of action on the plane of conscious control – which is a very different thing from yielding of individual responsibility to the will of some ill-conceived God.

VOCABULARY

hriyam (acc. sg.): f. shame, modesty

eva (emphatic)

ca: and

saṁnatim (acc. sg.): f. bending down , depression , lowness ; inclination , leaning towards , favour , complaisance ; humility

ca: and

hitvā = abs. hā: to abandon, relinquish

śayitāḥ (nom. pl. f.): mfn. reposed , lying , sleeping , asleep

mat-pramukhe (loc. sg. n.): in front of me

pramukha: n. before the face of , in front of , before , opposite to (with gen. or comp.); mfn. turning the face towards , facing (acc.)

yathā: like; in which manner ; as, because, since

yuvatyaḥ (nom. pl.): f. a girl , young woman

vivṛte (nom. dual.): mfn. unclosed , open

ca: and

yathā: as, since

svayam: ind. by themselves

kapāṭe (nom. dual): n. a door , the leaf or panel of a door

niyatam : ind. always , constantly , decidedly , inevitably , surely

yātum = inf. yā: to go , proceed , move , walk , set out , march , advance , travel , journey

an-āmayāya (dat. sg. m./n.): in pursuit of health ; for Śiva's sake

an-āmaya: mfn. free from disease , healthy , salubrious ; m. śiva ; n. health

āmaya: m. sickness , disease

śiva: m. " The Auspicious one " , N. of the disintegrating or destroying and reproducing deity ; m. any god ; m. sacred writings

ataḥ: ind. from this , hence

mama (gen. sg.): my

adya: ind. today, now

kālaḥ (nom. sg.): m. time

婇女本端正 今悉見醜形
門戸先關閉 今已悉自開
觀此諸瑞相 第一義之筌

BUDDHACARITA 5.69: Self-Expression of Doubtlessness

⏑⏑−⏑⏑¦−⏑−⏑−−¦¦⏑⏑−−⏑⏑¦−⏑−⏑−−   Aupacchandasaka

hdi yā mama tuṣṭir-adya jātā vyavasāyaś-ca yathā dhṛtau niviṣṭaḥ |

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vijane 'pi ca nāthavān-ivāsmi dhruvam-artho 'bhimukhaḥ sa me ya iṣṭaḥ || 5.69

5.69

Since there has arisen today in my heart

a certain satisfaction,

Since strenuous fixity of purpose has settled down

into a contented constancy,

And since even in solitude

I feel as if I am in the presence of a protector,

Assuredly, the valuable object to which I aspire is smiling upon me.

COMMENT:

The difficulty of today's verse is indicated firstly by the fact that EH Johnston, in his effort to grasp Aśvaghoṣa's gist, amended the original manuscript in two places; and secondly by the fact that EHJ felt the grammar to be worthy of note.

The two amendments EHJ made were 1. to dhṛtau in the 2^nd pāda (changed to matau) and 2. to sa me ya in the 4^th pāda (changed to sameta).

With regard to the grammar, EHJ noted in his Introduction that in this verse, as also in SN6.47, Aśvaghoṣa used a relative absolutely without postcedent to express the idea 'as for.'

Exactly what EHJ meant by this is not apparent to me from his translation, which is as follows:

Since contentment arises in my heart to-day, and since my resolve is fixed in my mind (matau) and since I have as it were a guide even in loneliness, most certainly the longed for goal has come into (sameta) my view. (EHJ)

In SN6.47, however, EHJ translated yas-tasya bhāvas “such is his feeling” and tvayi yaś-ca rāgo “such his passion towards you.”

Similarly, in today's verse, EBC translated yā tuṣṭir as “such is the firm content”:

Since such is the firm content which to-day is produced in my heart, and since my determination is settled in calm resolve (dhṛtau), and since even in loneliness I seem to possess a guide, — verily the (sa) end which (ya) I (me) desire is now before me. (EBC)

Rather than follow EBC in using “such is” to translate yā, I have followed EHJ in ignoring the yā construction in translation, opting instead to translate tuṣtiḥ and dhṛtau at the end of their respective clauses, in order to bring out their similarity of meaning – since both words, as I read them, express the combination of 1. a feel-good factor, or a sense of contentment, and 2. something expressing certainty, constancy, or security.

Hence in the 1st pāda I have translated tuṣṭiḥ (lit. satisfaction, contentment) somewhat ambiguously as “a certain satisfaction.” I note that EBC in his translation – “firm content” – also used two words instead of one, to convey the sense not only of contentment per se, but also of being firm or secure or certain in one's conviction.

In the 2nd pāda I am on safe ground translating dhṛtau as “into a contented constancy” since constancy and content / satisfaction / joy are included in the dictionary definitions of dhṛti.

In the 3rd pāda, on first reading, I took nāthavān-ivāsmi (“I am as if in the presence of a protector”) as the kind of religious thought or feeling of the kind which I am not immune from having myself –

Guide me O thy great redeemer,

Pilgrim through this barren land.
I am weak but thou art mighty –

Hold me in thy powerful hand.

Bread of heaven. Bread of heaven.

Feed me till I want no more.

Feed me till I want no more.

What thus seems to link the elements of the four pādas of today's verse is the sensibility of a believer who draws strength and security and comfort and calm contentment from faith in a power greater than himself.

The question that then arises is to what extent, in alluding to such an ostensibly religious sensibility, Aśvaghoṣa has his tongue in his cheek? 

Yesterday morning I felt very full of myself, and had no doubt that Aśvaghoṣa's tongue was firmly in his cheek. This morning (using the word “morning” loosely) I am not so sure. Partly as a result of stressing myself yesterday afternoon on a full stomach, I have woken up after just two or three hours sleep and got up in the middle of the night. It is almost as if I have got out of pace with time....

Setting aside such self-doubt for a moment, let us assume that Aśvaghoṣa's tongue was in his cheek. Then the irony that can be read into the 4^th pāda is that the object to which the prince aspires is pari-nirvāṇa (see BC5.25 below). But pari-nirvāṇa cannot yet mean anything to the prince, as an object to aspire to, other than as an idea or a concept. Moreover in the way the prince aspires to pari-nirvāṇa – in the way he desires enlightenment, as a sincere man going straight for his goal (BC5.46) – the prince might in fact, because of this very end-gaining desire, be impossibly far from his desired object. In that case, the valuable object to which he aspires, although he feels himself to be basking in its warm glow, might in fact be very far from smiling at him.

Then, he of battle-cry like roaring thunder-cloud, listened to this cry of woe, and experienced a calmness most profound; / For as he heard the words “perfectly contented,” he set his mind on the matter of pari-nirvāṇa – the happiness of complete extinction. // BC5.25 //

But even those ultimate instruments, on a par with heavenly harps, gave him no pleasure nor any joy. / His desire, as a sincere man going straight for his goal, was to get out, in pursuit of the happiness of ultimate riches; and therefore he was not in the mood for play. // BC5.46//

So, I conclude [ed: like a hill-walker getting to what he thought was the top of a hill], in today's verse the prince's self-satisfied sense of certainty can be read as a religious delusion – a state of doubtlessness into which, as described in BC5.67, the prince has descended.

Was Aśvaghoṣa really out to desecrate Buddhism?

I think that on one level he was – and this is one reason why Aśvaghoṣa's writings, as I read them, are incredibly well suited to our present irreligious age. That my translation of them has not attracted more interest over the past five years – I can't help worrying – might be a reflection of my continuing to make a pig's ear of the whole endeavour.

I apologize for showing my workings in such a haphazard manner, like a scruffy mathematician, but having prepared the above comment and gone back to bed for a couple of hours and then sat again, it occurred to me that the digging whose results are presented above was woefully insufficient.  Or, to use the hill-walking metaphor, I realized that what I thought was the top of the hill, when I came to stand on it, or sit on it, was blocking from view another peak, or series of peaks, continuing into the distance.  

So at least one deeper level, or one higher peak, needs to be explored, namely that the prince, unbeknowns to himself, is pre-saging the experience he will have as the enlightened Buddha.

In that case, the essence of today's verse is neither a religious agenda nor any irreligious irony. Rather, like every verse that Aśvaghoṣa wrote, today's verse can be read as being rooted in the simple joy of sitting-meditation – whose elements need not include complex philosophical investigation and psychological self-examination, but invariably do include:

- satisfaction (tuṣṭiḥ)

- constancy (dhṛti)

- solitude (vi-jana)

- submission to some kind of redeeming force (nāthavān)

- a sense of something facing in a certain direction (abhimukhaḥ)

- something desired or wished for (iṣṭaḥ), albeit not too greedily or hastily.

A final reflection, apropos of what I wrote yesterday, is that Marjory Barlow saw it as important in teaching the Alexander Technique for a teacher not to pre-judge a pupil on any given day. The thing is rather to approach each lesson with an open mind, aware that the pupil today might be a different person than he was yesterday. In light of all that, it was all the more poignant when Marjory said to me after one lesson, in a spirit of acceptance, or resignation, “You are an inveterate worrier, aren't you?”

“I know,” she then added, “because I am too.”

My spontaneous outpouring in yesterday's post was not one of my finest moments. I would like to apologize to everybody everywhere. I don't know to what extent I am making a pig's ear of this translation project, any more than people knew what the result would be of re-introducing wolves into Yellowstone Park. Notwithstanding the worries of doubters, that trial seems to have worked well, thanks to hungry wolves being nothing other than hungry wolves. So we live in hope. Doubt and hope.

VOCABULARY

hṛdi (loc. sg.): n. heart

yā (nom. sg. f.): [relative pronoun] which

mama (gen. sg.): my

tuṣṭiḥ (nom. sg.): f. satisfaction , contentment

tuṣ: to become calm , be satisfied or pleased with any one ; to satisfy , please , appease , gratify

adya: ind. today , now

jātā (nom. sg. f.): mfn. born, arisen, produced

vyavasāyah (nom. sg.): m. strenuous effort or exertion; settled determination , resolve , purpose , intention (°yam √kṛ to make up one's mind , resolve , determine) [See BC5.33]

avasāya: m. " taking up one's abode " ; termination ; determination , ascertainment

√ so: to destroy , kill , finish

ava- √ so: to loosen , deliver from ; to unharness (horses) , put up at any one's house , settle , rest ; to unharness (horses) , put up at any one's house , settle , rest ; to finish , terminate (one's work) ; to be finished , be at an end , be exhausted; to decide

vy-ava- √ so: to settle down or dwell separately ; to differ (in opinion) , contest , quarrel ; to separate , divide (opp. to sam- √as) ; to determine , resolve , decide

ca: and

yathā: ind. as, since

dhṛtau (loc. sg.): f. holding , seizing , keeping , supporting (cf. carṣaṇī- , vi-) , firmness , constancy , resolution , will , command ; satisfaction , content , joy

matau (loc. sg.): f. mind

niviṣṭaḥ (nom. sg. m.): mfn. settled down , come to rest

vijane (loc. sg.): n. a deserted or solitary place , absence of witnesses; mfn. free from people , destitute of men , deserted , solitary , lonely

api: even

ca: and

nātha-vān (nom. sg. m.): mfn. having a protector or master , dependant , subject

nātha: n. refuge , help ; m. a protector , patron , possessor , owner , lord ; m. a rope passed through the nose of a draft ox

iva: like, as if

asmi = 1^st pers. sg. as: to be

dhruvam: ind. firmly , constantly , certainly , surely

arthaḥ (nom. sg.): m. aim, purpose ; thing, object ; substance , wealth , property , opulence , money

abhimukhaḥ (nom. sg. m.): mfn. with the face directed towards , turned towards , facing ; taking one's part , friendly disposed (with gen. or instr.)

sa (nom. sg. m.): it

me (gen. sg.): me

yaḥ (nom. sg. m.): which

sametaḥ (nom. sg. m.): mfn. come together , assembled , joined , united ; come near or to , got into any state or condition (acc.)

iṣṭaḥ (nom. sg. m.): mfn. sought, wished, desired

自知心決定 堅固誓莊嚴

BUDDHACARITA 5.68: The Conscious Mind Must Be Quickened! (But In Haste?)

⏑⏑−⏑⏑¦−⏑−⏑−−¦¦⏑⏑−−⏑⏑¦−⏑−⏑−−   Aupacchandasaka

turagāvacaraṁ sa bodhayitvā javinaṁ chandakam-ittham-ity-uvāca |

⏑⏑−⏑⏑¦−⏑−⏑−−¦¦⏑⏑−−⏑⏑¦−⏑−⏑−−

hayam-ānaya kanthakaṁ tvarāvān amtaṁ prāptum-ito 'dya me yiyāsā || 5.68

5.68

He woke that ready runner of the fleet of foot,

The stableman Chandaka, and addressed him as follows:

“Bring me in haste the horse Kanthaka!

I wish today to flee from here,

in order to obtain the nectar of immortality.

COMMENT:

In today's verse, Aśvaghoṣa on the face of it is continuing reverently to relate the history, following the conventions of Sanskrit epic poetry, of a kind of religious super-hero – the founder of one of the world's great faiths, namely “Buddhism” or (in the words of my own teacher) “True Buddhism.”

But below the surface of today's verse, as I read it, Aśvaghoṣa on the contrary is asking a question about (or ripping the piss out of?) the idealistic / religious attitude which thinks light of this concrete place and seeks the ultimate prize yonder, somewhere over the rainbow.

The irony identifiable below the surface of today's verse is therefore related to place – the irony of having a big desire to flee from this place in order to find the truth which (as the Buddha ultimately describes it) is wanting little and being content being here and now.

The irony, then, is also related to time.

A teaching aphorism of an irreligious, practical man named FM Alexander, who said he believed in nothing (though, it is true, he also confessed to believing in everything) was “The conscious mind must be quickened.”

A few years ago, when the first generation of teachers who Alexander trained were interviewed, a common theme that emerged was taking time. Hence, the title chosen for the booklet in which the interviews were published was “Taking Time.”

Behind this apparent contradiciton may lie the wisdom of the old English proverb “more haste, less speed.” 

Or as the Japanese say, isogaba maware (“when in a hurry, take the indirect route”).

Aśvaghoṣa in today's verse, as I read it, is playing with that apparent paradox. Hence he praises Chandaka as javinam, which means quick, ready, responsive, and he identifies Chandaka as turagāvacaram (lit. one whose sphere is those that go (ga) quickly (tura); i.e. a horseman, stableman, groom). And into the words of the prince, again, Aśvaghoṣa puts words with connotations of speed or – maybe more to the point – of haste. Hence hayam (horse) is from the root √hi (to urge or hasten on), and tvarā-vān means “with haste.”

A further irony that Aśvaghoṣa may be hinting at, then, is that the prince could come across as being in a big hurry to get his eager paws on that which is timeless and deathless – the nectar of immortality.

Against this interpretation, glancing ahead, is the prince's description in tomorrow's verse of contentment or satisfaction (tuṣṭi) having arisen in his heart. That will be a matter for study tomororw.

Coming back to today's verse, however, it speaks to me of the matter of haste and speed; and it is a matter which bears repetition. As I have mentioned before, the reason I am translating this work at the snail's pace of one verse per day is not that slow and patient progress comes naturally to me. Rather, limiting myself to one verse per day is a deliberate exercise, against the impatient habits of a lifetime, in taking time. Going deliberately slowly like this is somewhat akin to the very slow walking, called in Japanese kinhin, that is practised in between two sessions of formal sitting-meditation – something, I confess, that I haven't practised much in recent years.

The point of going extra slowly is to give myself plenty of time, so that time is on my side, not against me.

If there is any wisdom in this approach, it has been born of a lifetime of painful experience of the stress associated with taking the opposite approach. 

That stress started in earnest when I passed an entrance exam to go to what was then regarded as the posh school in Birmingham, and at the age of ten, skipped a year of primary school and entered that secondary school for high achievers. Before then I had always been ahead of the game at school – when it came to learning to read, learning times tables, et cetera, and also when it came to competing in the playground – without even trying. But when I joined King Edwards School Birmingham a lot of things changed for the worse. For one thing, people on the bus thought I was, to use the vernacular of the time, a wanker. 

In the 1970s in Birmingham the quality that most teenage boys aspired to was to be “hard” or, if you were setting your sights really high “a hard knock.” But if you went to King Edwards, as I and Lee Child (author of the Jack Reacher novels) did, you were not generally regarded by other Brummie teenagers as hard knock material. Even if you spent every lunchtime as I did in the weights room, and every Saturday playing rugby, you had no street credibility, and has Lee Child has documented, were liable to get singled out for a beating up.

This is the back story to my defensive comment of yesterday that I am as intellectual, or as clever, as I am, and if you don't like it, fuck off. If I could go back to the 1970s now, I really would be a hard knock, having gained the necessary experience to be one in karate dojos in Japan. But in those days I did not have the means. So when I got beaten up at a school disco at the age of 15, I was reduced to tears of shock and frustration. I didn't lack the guts to fight back. I certainly didn't lack the aggression. But I lacked the necessary experience of fight situations. I lacked the means of any expertise in unarmed self-defence.

If Lee Child is to believed, he in contrast had all the necessary means at his disposal. He knew how effective it was to drop your forehead in a person's face, to elbow a villain in the throat, to knee him in the testicles, to go for his eyes with your thumb, to sweep him onto the floor and in one flowing movement land on his chest with your knee so as to break several of his ribs. Lee Child, however, is a teller of stories. So I have my doubts as to how many arms Lee actually broke in reality, as opposed to in his imagination. Certainly, if Lee is up for a challenge at this late stage to find out who is a harder knock, me or him, I am backing me.

I digress, sort of. The point I am getting round, in my own sweet time, to making, is that when you are in possession of a means, then time is on your side, and there is no need to panic, even in a situation as urgent as a fight. But if you are not in possession of a means, there is nothing for it but to fall back on instinctive end-gaining.

During my schooldays I did not have a means. During my years in Japan, also, I lacked a proper means. Now, albeit rather late in the day, I am in possession of a means. What I have in mind in particular is not a means for defending myself so much as a means for being myself. I am thinking of the means-whereby that Marjory Barlow, above anybody else, imparted to me for being myself.

As I sat reflecting this morning on Marjory's gift, I looked to the side and saw myself in the mirror, and smiled at myself, liking what I saw. If others continue to see me as an intellectual wanker, let them. I don't want to waste the whole of my life trying to prove them wrong. At the same time, if they want to have a go, then let them come and have a go, if they think they are hard enough.

So this was my experience this morning, stimulated by today's verse. It struck me that Marjory gave me the means of being myself. The means is rooted in inhibition of the desire to go directly or hurriedly for any end... wherein lies the connection with time.

Not allowing oneself to lose pace with time – for example because some little end-gaining bastard of a Zen master (mirror principle alert) is in one hell of a hurry to save the world from the conflict between idealism and materialism, thereby securing his own exalted place in world history – is the secret of being yourself.

When I used to visit Marjory in London every couple of weeks in the late 1990s and early 2000s, I had the sense of being one of two male pupils, youngsters in our 40s and 50s, who Marjory, then in her 80s, sort of regarded as her boyfriends. My romantic rival was Trevor Allan Davies with whom Marjory wrote her book An Examined Life. The frontispiece of that book contains these words addressed, alas, not to me but to Trevor:

My goal, and my only one,

is to help you adjust your inner tempo,

so that you do not lose pace with time.

VOCABULARY

turagāvacaram (acc. sg. m.): a horseman

tura-ga: m. " going quickly " , a horse

avacara: m. the dominion or sphere or department of (in comp.)

ava- √ car: to come down from

ava-caraka: m. a footman, runner

sa (nom. sg. m.): he

bodhayitvā = abs. caus. budh: to wake up , arouse ; to cause to observe or attend , admonish

javinam (acc. sg. m.): mfn. quick

javin: mfn. quick , fleet; m. a horse; a camel

java: mfn. ( √ ju , or jū) swift

√ jū: to press forwards , hurry on , be quick ; to impel quickly , urge or drive on , incite ; to scare ; to excite , promote , animate , inspire

chandakam (acc. sg.): m. N. of śākya-muni's charioteer

ittham: ind. thus , in this manner

iti: thus

uvāca = 3^rd pers. sg. perf vac: to say, speak

hayam (acc. sg.): m. (fr. √hi) a horse

√hi: to send forth , set in motion , impel , urge on , hasten on

ānaya = 2^nd pers. sg. imperative ā- √ nī : to lead near, bring

kanthakam (acc. sg.): m. (= kaṇṭhaka 'an ornament for the neck') buddha's horse

tvarā-vān (nom. sg. m.): mfn. expeditious

tvara: only (-eṇa) instr. ind. hastily

amṛtam (acc. sg.): n. immortality ; the nectar (conferring immortality , produced at the churning of the ocean) , ambrosia

prāptum = inf. pra- √āp: to attain to ; reach , arrive at , meet with , find ; to obtain

itaḥ: ind. from hence , from this place , from this world

adya: ind. today ; now

me (gen. sg.): in/of me

yiyāsā: f. (fr. Desid. yā) desire of going
yā: to go , proceed , move , walk , set out , march , advance , travel , journey ; to go away , withdraw , retire ; to flee , escape

閣 而告車匿言

吾今心渇仰 欲飮甘露泉
被馬速牽來 欲至不死郷