Siddhartha

Siddhartha is written in a poetic form: repetitious form, lyrical, string after string of words, linked by a common note, an ore of  poetic noe, like a strand of silver through the rock, when one is found, the ringing resonance is around, of fine metal, backbone of earth, essential mineral; that like poetry itself, makes things seem true, as posited against stating truth, Truth; the objective sought through a subjective; that given the universe, creates a truth; but there are truths of earth, and truths of the universe.

And consider this: Say we walk down the street and see rocks and trees long earth’s diurnal course. And we see their shape, their color, sense their smell perhaps. But something less material in the universe with totally different senses may sense things about the rocks and trees we don’t. It may not perceive what we perceive of rocks and trees at all. And therefore it is able to pass through what it doesn’t sense; but be stopped by what it does sense. In this way, anything with a different set of senses, can be near our space, without our worlds colliding or impeding each other.

As regards protagonists in this culture; so we wonder about Siddhartha; whether what happens in one’s life is strictly what is written or stated about it by greater power; such the greek notion of fate; people on their own, may only be as great as greater power allows them. So all of this is a story, with a two-dimensional streak, that is about dealing with being part of a story. The writer is indicating the power of writing, not the individual, or protagonist, in a pointedly hidden sort of way; this connundrum upon art breeding mortality. Thus “Siddhartha” is a subterfuge and pretext for a writer grappling with being a writer, as in being controlled, and controlling, as Brahmic ruminations provide a cover for this battle.

Siddhartha’s greatness, seen growing up, shining through the veils of youth, to me, seems his own self-conception; and the greatness self-conception can feel to itself; and this is a morally ambiguous, and a possibly satirical quality to Siddhartha; as the writer is morally ambiguous, in the world of lies Siddhartha attempts to point out; Siddhartha himself is morally ambiguous; believing in himself, showing little substance to what makes him great; so the only greatness we see is something controlling Siddhartha to a hazy composure of greatness. The denial of reality may be the capstone of the appearance of greatness, more than reality itself. Hesse’s decision to distinguish Siddhartha, is what makes Siddhartha, better.

The “Atman” may be the body of the human race itself, as claimed by the universe, to be soul of the universe, though soul is a difficult word to purely define. We may not be able to believe in the Atman, because such may not be true. Truth tends to have a path to follow, that followed reveals the truth in question.

The “ablutions” I would think, the aquatic, hourly rituals, would be seen to demonstrate a form to the universe designed to help the universe, and show mercy from the universe, upon what creates humans being so. The sacrifices, daily practiced, say to the universe, “Look, this animal of earth will, die, o evil gods, so please be nice to us.”

Siddhartha leaves the blessings of the community of Brahmins led by his father, to follow these ascetics. These are the ascetics who cause themselves pain, to still the soul, and leave the empty; and travel about; However my understanding is Ascetics were prayed to, and given money; and that accomplished ascetics, capable of moving among the kingdom of god, having benevolent assistants, and worthy clients. This corruption of Asceticism by Hesse, makes them all about hurting themselves, in thorns or standing still in the rain for hours. Yet maybe that sacrifice is for the universe and so saves society from more suffering. But that is not truth itself, or knowledge itself, that is naturally on a pedestal; merely payment for reducing suffering in the world.

Let me show you here, how Siddhartha complains so bitterly of the world, that he is in pain from the world he sees, it provides emptiness to him. Yet ascetics, and those who seek the kingdom of god, and away from the lie; can not take the world seriously enough for the bitterness. They know the world does not exist, it is all bs, so to speak; so we can not be hurt by the world itself, steadfast in our knowledge of the kingdom of god, and earnest in our seeking of heaven and the universe. So I do not see how Siddhartha can complain of a world, that may deserve contempt; when he can see or sense its illusion. Maybe this is merely a growing enlightenment, a stage like all the growing. Yet the ignorance of the intentional transition asceticism intends from lies to truth, from frustration, to success, is what we call the poetic lie of Siddhartha, the seed of the knowledge of good and evil, that transcends us to a new stage of oppression. So often Art must have an evil seed to succeed, and here we are, the sly artifice of art, more attractive than truth herself. In that one must know to become ascetic, and seek what lies beyond current structure: rather than be known for standing in the rain.

Yes there are bad hippies, who travel so much in poverty they forget their recent nights and merge soulfully; but they are in context of a good structural accommodation encouraging those who seek change. It is not the fear bad hippies inspire, in their contrast to most daily life; quite the opposite; the uncompassionate do not get very far; and those who overreact to the world, may climb easier to further enlightenment. But I am not sure the over reaction and taking the false too seriously is desired; I remember how my temperance and strict society; may have held me back.

It seems Brahmin culture desires these corrupted or nascent ascetics to feel the contempt for society, socity is said to  deserve; and then there is a culture that prays to and gives money to those ascetics standing out so. But this is not a perfect spiritualism at all; for what is worshipped, is just that; a deprivation; and not purer truth or power.

Hesse writes of these ascetics Siddhartha joins traveling from town to town, that they are known to stand still for hours in sun and rain; as well as crouch in thorns. Standing still may not be such a bad idea, and something to be tested. If enough people freeze, that could be a very good idea, and certainly needs to be tried, to get the “ascetic” brand.

However the frequent seeking of pain, I’m not sure is the idea. Yes one should travel from town to town and preach a word, or petition the government to redress grievance (in court), or organize such among the citizens, or go in agriculture; there are many ways to incur duress and require calm and slow the heart beat to succeed, right, than sitting in a rose bush. The point of pain, the books says, is to quiet, and quiet is good, but pain without the results that takes you from the illusion, is not the pain you seek, unless we understand the design of society is so to harm humans, that suffering for the sake of suffering, soothes the universe from enacting and stating society so.

Siddhartha stays still for days and takes on hawk like and animal qualities, and feels being eaten, and eating and it is important to relate to animals who need to  think of themselves as food; and we must remember there are days in the woods of killing and eating; but the identification with rocks and animals, I am not so sure of; ah yes we are all things, but spending days pretending to be in the mind of an animal, I suppose that is good. In many ways our vulnerability and use to the universe, is like the animal kingdoms miserable obeisance to us. Certainly at times I have trouble buying meat at the supermarket.

I mean the notion of feeling animal death; that is important; and an important part of the Isis spirituality, whereby the flaws that hold us back, to overcome, we must pretend we are dead, to gain a perspective that looks at us and sees the obvious or works to the obvious. For the experience of society in life extends to a perspective from the darker world, as society is for heaven and the universe, and thus of a life beyond this material. The elements of horroscopes nearest the moon rotate by a harmony.

I agree the message of avoiding the media, trying to cultivate a monastic society; and Siddhartha concentrates on being an animal mind and staying still and leaving his self,  and that backhanded awareness of being a body, that truth called the kingdom of god, is very important to the individual and society, as it enables the grain of salt, and increases functionality; understanding is stabilizing. Thus by this very early part of the book I am buoyed by the emphasis on self-awareness of protagonist as body; rather than vanity of assuming Christ-likeness, that seems to start the book: Siddhartha seems to be going farther and traditionally, than from where he starts, and such anthropology would be the test of society.

Sid wants to escape from his self, and says that can be found in drunkenness, even alcoholism/ so severe is the need to break from illusion; that questing for knowledge is aptly often compared to thirst. And he compares knowledge to being attacked by learning; if one is at the center of the universe, and just wants to be that center; if often learning is woven into the lies; and it is the center, the self, that needs freedom.

Can you control tight situations with staring and strong mind? And it leads to a materialism. Walking on water stands for politely getting through spiritual situations; not achieve material wealth; but this is where the vanity of Siddhartha ends up, as a wealthy merchant for 20 years. Yes he falls in love with a women of the royal court, and gains wealth, to gain her.

Is the ascetic culture, which may claim to suffer more so the earth suffers less, for the universe sees the suffering and spares the earth; does this compel payment in the form of alms and donations to the ascetic?; or is the sophisticated knowledge of this trade enough to put the ascetic among the kingdom of god, as it almost seems a requirement for celebrity to begin?

If you recognize an ascetic by his peace, peace has to come from being within the Kingdom of God, or at least that is sought by peace.

The Gotoma with hundreds of followers in yellow monk-wear, a Christ-like figure, appears, who preaches about ending suffering? Is this ending the suffering of the universe? Not ending the suffering of Earths? Thus the problem is posed represented by Gotoma, not the answer.

We do seek to lose the self, as Siddhartha, thinks of it; for there is something else here, our mind is full with that that is not ourself; but a message-content from else where that rules earth and the universe. There is enough attached to the retina that seems to come from beyond the sky, and makes the eye seem as large as a third of the sky, revealing a connection between that from beyond and the kingdom of god so here. This connection shows how earth is used to represent the show, Siddhartha considers illusion. When the Gotoma preaches the end of suffering, he must be referring to the universe, which oppresses the Kingdom of Heaven and causes the Kingdom of God. The Gotoma is ironic as a Jesus-figure.

What is desired by those thirsting knowledge is the simplicity of the material/heavenly/universe trinity; What is desired is the assertion all the universe may be oppressed, and several or many earths, in this together. How can one explain society as an extension of the Kingdom of God, towards a completion, a death day, like a birthday, for everyone, so the universe may watch a show, with its dice verve, for that is how earth is used, as a show, the completion of a sacrifice primarily done, very early.

We are separate. We are part together. How much different can we be? The universe is so dominant the self misses it, as it has lost the necessary species mind, species facility that might tune it into this reality upon the human race. In other words The Self obscures the Universe, the other earths, the afterlife and the Kingdom of God, We might all be the same anyway: so losing the self, shows us all the other things, more permanent and greater. At the same time, the dialectic comes through whereby Siddhartha becomes fascinated with his self and becomes a merchant through the motivation of Kamala, who teaches him of love; and while good, takes Siddhartha from his pursuit of health and truth to a merchant upper class; where after 2 decades he realizes he has fallen and is suicidal; until he leaves through the woods again and rejuvenates by the river, where he came from some time ago, befriending the ferryman into an apprenticeship, whereby they become good friends listening to the river, producing something needed, passage across the river, growing rice and bananas themselves.

We lose the self to seek the nucleus, the chemistry that supports the life we feel; this is the metaphor the book uses; the older forms that predate us, we arise in. And what of us to be the soul of the world, the use and extension into the creation of society the universe seeks from earth? We don’t want to be subjective, but perceptive; and yet the truth of the universe may very well be a truth of dominance, rather than substantive, a truth that may rotate diplomatically, rather than always: a negotiated truth.  Truth verges on power here. And what can feelings be between impressions sought, and the actual holy feel to humanity as it really is, if anything can really be. This is the nature of poetic truth, and to the universe.

Our media, our creation, says “Alive!” so we get high on ourselves, and are above truth; and here trouble cognizing serious truth takes hold. Likewise if you listen to the universe, it says, “alive” as well, but not so positively, nor purely; what it states, is hazy-hard to see,  and it may too have parallel troubles cognizing the kingdom of god, it is in parcel with, as the greatness of the sadness incompatible with that which promotes it. But more and more, it seems society and the way things are, is because of the universe; so the universe is what is that counts, and meditation strives to apprehend this control.

In the contrast of this period of Siddhartha’s life, between the ascetic, there is this merchant life, and love for Kamala, he falls into, only to escape to work the ferry across the river in the forest; it is the language of God that is sought; how much of a language can there be; if so much is suffering, it can not amount to much greatness of expression, being a negative. Nature is a beautiful reality that restores him from his mercantile and gaming ways, but stuff around, once removed or more from material world, is what the mind seeks to learn of; amid a media contradicting it.

If we examine the left, we sense a hollow absence; that keeps me and you from knowing a part of ourselves. There is a pressing upon the left, by something otherwise, the press keeps us from ourselves; both the pressure upon the left side that keeps us from know ing how something else uses our left; And the press, news media; keeps us from and does not know, how people really are, their positive tendencies. This all keeps a status, whose essence is impression; an official transcript: reflective of the government of The Kingdom of Heaven and beyond; as there is The Kingdom of God, so as to make the wrong to earth and humans, easier. The universe must be upon the afterlife to maintain society through eye, brain and heart. The heart is a muscle; you control it, you control where and how blood is used; to force impression by pressure; to force perception perhaps.

The main message of the media is people are all right. Well then things would be easy to change. Well look at war, how that controls people against liberty; look how the people seem controlled, and their lives managed by odd otherworldly commentary. Perhaps the nature of control of parts by other parts is a way of the universe.

As I said Siddhartha leaves his youth and father and village with Govinda, his friend, to become a Samana, an ascetic, and fast, and stand still long periods of time in the rain; and be respected for such; after several years, they travel to see the Gotoma or holy recreation of the Buddha; from which Govinda joins the followers of the Buddha. Siddhartha then experiences sensuality and ably pursues a noblewomen, through whose connection, like Jacob, he works for a wealthy merchant and becomes wealthy himself.

However his spirituality declines into a wretchedness marked by wagering large sums at dice, and eventually, without realizing he has impregnated Kamala, he leaves through the woods, the beauty of nature and return of the inner om, redeeming him.

He seemed to go astray, because of sensuality, he seemed to forget that we are the sacrifices, and what we sacrifice, must not make us forget the sacrifice of ourselves. This clarity is what we seek. There is clarity in his growing rice and ferrying people, and his friendship with the Ferryman, That is production, that is responsibility, that is a trade, it is a sustenance, one that was missing from his life; and always tends to come later rather than earlier. Yet work does deprive mental energy and the time seeing the whole equation takes. Yet production places one closer to the material integral one seeks, provides a holiness of responsibility, a vision of trees, an absolution of what the universe is not.

Since it is 20 years later from when Siddhartha crossed the river for the first time, and 20 years since he visited the Gotoma, it is ironic that the news in the background is the Gotoma is dying. This incorporation of a Jesus-figure in the book, is an ironic device, of the iconic; The sensation that the Gotoma’s work hasn’t been done, even with his legions of followers, makes one wonder how these Jesus-figures, step off the stage; illuminates how they might logically go from the world they play in, to a world amid the kingdom of god. Wouldn’t he already be among part-time, the kingdom of god? Isn’t that the requisite of rendition in the media? And if The Gotoma’s consciousness goes to the Kingdom of Heaven….well, that is different from life ending.

I spend a lot of time meditating. But I don’t call it meditating. But it is like taking care of your soul, in that this thinking, and reflecting, and pondering and mental pushing, and mental moving, back to the ideas that rise up like waves as the old waves are gone beyond the forehead.

I sense something from the sky coming in through my retina. This is an amazing meditation because it connects me to something as large as the sky, a grid of gossamer, that lumps all of us prisoners together. And this is initially sensed, as phenomena, from other earths, several of them, as a federation of earths, oppressed, within an oppressed universe, that need earth to have a sacrificial design. Though it is breathtaking, this phenomological knowledge is lost from us; the oppression of these other earths makes them a negative, while amazing there be such kind planets; It’s actually like relating to a let down. that their oppression make them nothing to take a deep breath about. So lord knows what Brahmin Meditators think upon, this is what I think upon, my eye in the sky, somehow, I theorize, used and entered by something beyond earth.

How do we think upon this meditation, just to get to this point, by seeing the limitation upon society as caused and purposeful. Previously I may have distressed people wondering about the stupidity; but now I see it is for a reason, and insert that consideration, and it is a cushion, for easier apprehension.  Once we recognize our foolishness happens for a reason, once we recognize the impediment; things are better, than when our impotence is unexplained. Needless to say, it was that something from the universe witnesses and creates, near my eye, perhaps through my eye; and then take it to the consideration that this can viewed as a conduit from beyond the sky to the human environment so. Lord knows this is knowledge that does not want or lend itself to be viewed. Indeed the meditation is precipitated by an inner voice alerting me to the constant fact that knowledge of myself does not want itself to be viewed, and this whole press upon myself, a pressure upon the mind to keep it from spilling onto the knowledge of what it is really being used to do. Seeing the barrier preceding what lies within the boundary; somehow equating that with the universe got me focused on 4 other earths, founding the joint initially. It’s like a black haze or smoke that drifts in collected like a cloud from beyond the sky, emerging like a tossed robe closer to my minds eye where it hangs in its completing form of news media upon society, and literally seems to flow in a direction away unseen but nearby, into some myriad dice game regarding society; taking some task of pride and reaping from its account. This is what I look for; A clarity where I see what is hiding from me. And this is no picnic; but at the same time, an eventual evolution of mind, and true, of our condition; so no one is complaining.

In this latter and working phase of Siddhartha’s life, he has recognized the arrogance  always alluded to as vital; and he felt a part of Gotoma’s consciousness. Meanwhile Kamala, and other pilgrims, are on their way to Gotoma, and Kamala is bringing Siddhartha’s sullen and unruly son. Because the son cries, and eats a banana, Kamala falls asleep and is bitten by a snake, however, the cries reach the ears of The Ferryman, who races over and brings her unconscious back to the hut, where Siddhartha immediately recognizes Kamala and his son. And it is very sad to the reader, as they recognize they have grown old. Siddhartha quiets the child; but it seems Kamala will die. Then that’s what she does. And Siddhartha stares into her face a long time. She was older than he was, and a courtesan who had given over her gardens to the monks of the Gotoma.

The fear of reproduction: The message to alleviate the suffering is answered: Stop reproducing. Stop reproducing the kingdom of god.

The boy is a trouble maker and causes grief, making The Ferryman say, that the boy did not come into the woods of his own will, and will not be happy here and that the river agrees. Then he criticizes Siddhartha for not punishing his son. But Siddhartha goes so on to be consumed by his love for his son, using only patience; and getting nowhere.

The son represents the edict to not reproduce. He is wrong to indulge his son, he never returned to His own father. Siddhartha’s  son runs off, to an easier life, he was used to and Siddhartha can’t get him back, old, tired.

The consciousness of the unity of all life, species not personality mind. This is what sustains the Brahmin. The knowledge he never returned to his father, merited this treatment by his son.

All things are all things, no line dividing this and other world, suffering and bliss are one thing. Yet is wisdom teachable? What is taught by this book?. Can you speak the truth to it, raise the curve? Is the atmosphere to honest? but it is what is said, less rigorous and high in end of life then the expression of his questings earlier. Enjoying nature is a hard reality, yes, but a belief in the goodness of everything earthly sustains him in the end; but is it impossible to be taught anything? Surely the good learn often.

All the humanity passing through, for universe unknown–Govinda shows up again at the end and remarks “all that is holy“, problem is, what aside from nature is holy, and how do we reach it; for surely beyond nature, holiness is not close or apprehendable;  seeking the holy with passion with people — Holiness is relative.

What fails about the book and makes it truly overly sentimental; is the overwhelming sense of mortality throughout the book, especially at the end, that it is about the lifespan, and that is not totally innocent, and consistent with an early modern view that represses truth. Likewise that there is no stated truth that can be carried away, amid the images of truth; that is also literary, in that it appeals to the sense and not the adult.

The Hindu terminology, which is greater and has more vocabulary than Christian terminology is meant to be grown adept to; and while  terminological equations may wobble and offer merely a glimpse, so the vocabulary and reference is meant to stimulate us; yet whether as an authority to lead, these words put together suggest a discount of the work, as incumbent upon the interest it draws.

This book is a charactorization of the brahmin culture: from his childhood, to the woods as a FerryMan; he is surrounded by, and the economy supports, as educationally oriented, travelling culture, easy-living community option, brahmin culture; Which in ways corresponds to our college and liberal art tradition; as well as the relief of freedom upon school, and ensuing rainbow hippie culture:  American and Hindu society can try to compensate for oppression it is aware of, culturally. These brahmins and rainbows are both spiritually learning and encouraged for it; having opportunity society is generally stricter than. They seem complex, elaborate, self-creating, guided, karmic and active cultures.

As regards protagonists in this culture; so we wonder about Siddhartha; whether what happens in one’s life is strictly what is written or stated about it by greater power; such the greek notion of fate; people on their own, may only be as great as greater power allows them. So all of this is a story, with a two-dimensional streak, that is about dealing with being part of a story. The writer is indicating the power of writing, not the individual, or protagonist, in a pointedly hidden sort of way; this connundrum upon art breeding mortality. Thus “Siddhartha” is a subterfuge and pretext for a writer grappling with being a writer, as in being controlled, and controlling, as Brahmic ruminations provide a cover for this battle.

There is a marked harsher treatment of Siddhartha: looked at this way. In his childhood, sacrifice, rigidity, appearance, control, samana restriction snob how critical not manifesting great if love = 20 yr merchant then finally merely humble and productive,

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