From the reading. . .
“But again and again, he came back to beautiful Kamala, learned the art of love, practised the cult of lust, in which more than in anything else giving and taking becomes one. . . ”
At times he felt, deep in his chest, a dying, quiet voice, which admonished him quietly, lamented quietly; he hardly perceived it. And then, for an hour, he became aware of the strange life he was leading, of him doing lots of things which were only a game, of, though being happy and feeling joy at times, real life still passing him by and not touching him. As a ball-player plays with his balls, he played with his business-deals, with the people around him, watched them, found amusement in them; with his heart, with the source of his being, he was not with them. The source ran somewhere, far away from him, ran and ran invisibly, had nothing to do with his life any more. And at several times he suddenly became scared on account of such thoughts and wished that he would also be gifted with the ability to participate in all of this childlike-naive occupations of the daytime with passion and with his heart, really to live, really to act, really to enjoy and to live instead of just standing by as a spectator. But again and again, he came back to beautiful Kamala, learned the art of love, practised the cult of lust, in which more than in anything else giving and taking becomes one, chatted with her, learned from her, gave her advice, received advice. She understood him better than Govinda used to understand him, she was more similar to him.
Once, he said to her, “You are like me, you are different from most people.
You are Kamala, nothing else, and inside of you, there is a peace and refuge, to which you can go at every hour of the day and be at home at yourself, as I can also do. Few people have this, and yet all could have it.”
“Not all people are smart,” said Kamala.
“No,” said Siddhartha, “that’s not the reason why. Kamaswami is just as smart as I, and still has no refuge in himself. Others have it, who are small children with respect to their mind. Most people, Kamala, are like a falling leaf, which is blown and is turning around through the air, and wavers, and tumbles to the ground. But others, a few, are like stars, they go on a fixed course, no wind reaches them, in themselves they have their law and their 62
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course. Among all the learned men and Samanas, of which I knew many, there was one of this kind, a perfected one, I’ll never be able to forget him. It is that Gotama, the exalted one, who is spreading that teaching. Thousands of followers are listening to his teachings every day, follow his instructions every hour, but they are all falling leaves, not in themselves they have teachings and a law.”
Kamala looked at him with a smile. “Again, you’re talking about him,” she said, “again, you’re having a Samana’s thoughts.”
Siddhartha said nothing, and they played the game of love, one of the thirty or forty different games Kamala knew. Her body was flexible like that of a jaguar and like the bow of a hunter; he who had learned from her how to make love, was knowledgeable of many forms of lust, many secrets. For a long time, she played with Siddhartha, enticed him, rejected him, forced him, embraced him—enjoyed his masterful skills, until he was defeated and rested exhausted by her side.
The courtesan bent over him, took a long look at his face, at his eyes, which had grown tired.
“You are the best lover,” she said thoughtfully, “I ever saw. You’re stronger than others, more supple, more willing. You’ve learned my art well, Siddhartha. At some time, when I’ll be older, I’d want to bear your child. And yet, my dear, you’ve remained a Samana, and yet you do not love me, you love nobody. Isn’t it so?”
“It might very well be so,” Siddhartha said tiredly. “I am like you. You also do not love—how else could you practise love as a craft? Perhaps, people of our kind can’t love. The childlike people can; that’s their secret.”
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Dancing Girl, Library of Congress
Topics Worth Investigating
1. Siddhartha adopted a game-playing attitude without passion toward business, and a passionate attitude without game-playing toward Kamala.
Does one attitude exclude the other? Clarify the similarities and differences between the two approaches to life.
2. As in the first chapter, in keeping with his rejection of the subjectivity of Maya and the return to the objective world of causes, Siddhartha refers to himself in the third person. For example, when chided by Kamaswami for not having a serious business sense, Siddhartha responds,
. . . So, leave it as it is, my friend, and don’t harm yourself by scolding! If the day will come when you see Siddhartha is harming me, then speak a word and Siddhartha will go on his own path.
Is the notion of objectivity only approached through intersubjectivity or intrasubjectivity? Is ultimate truth achieved only through ad populum means? Or was Charles S. Peirce correct when he argues that reality is independent of our thoughts.
That whose characters are independent of how you or I think is an external reality. There are, however, phenomena within our own minds, dependent 64
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upon our thought, which are at the same time real in the sense that we really think them. But though their characters depend on how we think, they do not depend on what we think those characters to be. Thus, a dream has a real existence as a mental phenomenon, if somebody has really dreamt it; that he dreamt so and so, does not depend on what anybody thinks was dreamt, but is completely independent of all opinion on the subject. On the other hand, considering, not the fact of dreaming, but the thing dreamt, it retains its peculiarities by virtue of no other fact than that it was dreamt to possess them. Thus we may define the real as that whose characters are independent of what anybody may think them to be.1
Explain the difference in perspective in our attempt to know ourselves when we no longer believe in an independent objective reality of who we are, but, instead, only come to know ourselves by what others think of us.
3. Evaluate the statement, “Everyone takes, everyone gives.” Suppose a child you do not know offers you a flower. Who is taking and who is giving? Explain.
4. Franz Kafka writes in the parable entitled “Couriers”:
They were offered the choice between becoming kings or the couriers of kings. The way children would, they all wanted to be couriers. Therefore there are only couriers who hurry about the world, shouting to each other—since there are no kings—messages that have become meaningless.
they would like to put an end to this miserable life of theirs but they dare not because of their oaths of service.
How are the childlike people similar to Kafka’s couriers?
5. How is it that neither Siddhartha nor Kamala can love—even though their relationship is the whole sum, substance, and meaning to their life at this point in their life’s path? What does Siddhartha mean when he notes the secret of the childlike people is that they can love? What is it that Siddhartha and Kamala lack?
1.
Charles S. Peirce. "How to Make Our Ideas Clear" in The Essential Peirce. Ed. N.
Houser and C. Kloesel. Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press. 125.
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Chapter 7
Sansara
Bird Cage Library of Congress (detail)
From the reading. . .
“. . . that tense expectation, that proud state of standing alone without teachings and without teachers, that supple willingness to listen to the divine voice in his own heart, had slowly become a memory. . . ”
Ideas of Interest from “Sansara”
1. Why did Siddhartha envy the childlike people?
