⏑−⏑−¦−⏑⏑¦−⏑−⏑−¦¦⏑−⏑−¦−⏑⏑¦−⏑−⏑− Vaṁśastha
hayaś-ca
saujasvi cacāra kanthakas-tatāma bhāvena babhūva nirmadaḥ |
⏑−⏑−¦−⏑⏑¦−⏑−⏑−¦¦⏑−⏑−¦−⏑⏑¦−⏑−⏑−
alaṁktaś-cāpi
tathaiva bhūṣaṇair-abhūd-gata-śrīr-iva tena varjitaḥ || 8.3
8.3
And
the horse Kanthaka moved himself
by an effort of physical strength;
by an effort of physical strength;
He
panted; he was, through his whole being, devoid of ebullience;
Again,
decked though he was in decorative trappings,
He
seemed, without the one in question, to lack any lustre.
COMMENT:
Duḥkha,
being such a general term, is aptly translated in most cases as
“suffering.” Other possibilities are pain, hardship, uneasiness,
trouble, and sorrow. Aśvaghoṣa's most extensive treatment of it is
in SN Canto 16, where the word duḥkha appears no less than 27 times
in the first 47 verses of the canto.
But
within the general field of suffering, Aśvaghoṣa's specialist
subject is evidently śoka, grief or sorrow, as experienced when
loved ones are separated by death or – more to the point – separated by somebody's decision to go forth into the homeless life. This śoka finds its
outward expression in vilāpa, bewailing or lamenting. Hence Aśvaghoṣa's
detailed treatment of sorrow in SN Canto 6, bhāryā-vilāpa, “A
Wife's Lamenting,” in SN Canto 7, nanda-vilāpa, “Nanda's
Lamenting,” and BC Canto 8, antaḥ-pura-vilāpa, “Lamenting
Within the Battlements.”
Yes,
I said this already two days in the comment to BC8.1. Bear with me.
My brain these days does not work as fast as it used to, and neither
is my memory as sharp as it once was. It seems to help to keep
repeating myself.
I also quoted in the
comment to BC8.1 these most excellent words of FM Alexander, which I
think apply equally to what FM called “the work” and what the
Buddha called bhāvanā:
"When an investigation comes to be made it will be found that every single thing we do in the work is exactly what is done in Nature, where the conditions are right, the difference being that we are learning to do it consciously."
In this light, BC8.1
can be read as an expression of human consciousness putting a spanner
in the works of the grieving process.
BC8.2, then, can be read as the antithesis to the thesis that human consciousness is what puts a spanner in the works (hence tu, but). BC8.2 can be read as making the case for human consciousness, the growth of which can be facilitated by deliberately slowing down, by coming back again to slow, slow, slow, slow Zen. BC8.2 can be read as making the case for learning to do it consciously.
BC8.2, then, can be read as the antithesis to the thesis that human consciousness is what puts a spanner in the works (hence tu, but). BC8.2 can be read as making the case for human consciousness, the growth of which can be facilitated by deliberately slowing down, by coming back again to slow, slow, slow, slow Zen. BC8.2 can be read as making the case for learning to do it consciously.
And
in today's verse, BC8.3, I think Aśvaghoṣa is using the horse
Kanthaka like Cesar Millan used Daddy the pit bull terrier, to
exemplify what happens in Nature, where the conditions are right.
That being so, the
horse Kanthaka does not (1) put a spanner in the works of the
grieving process by trying to suppress his sorrow; nor therefore does
he need (2) to learn to allow the process by an effort of consciousness. Rather, (3) Kanthaka's sorrow
is naturally out there, for all to see, through his whole being, in the laboured movement of his limbs,
in his shortness of breath, and in his lack of lustre.
As an example out of my
own experience of what today's verse as I read it is describing, a
few years ago when I was in France my neighbour Farmer Louvelle puts
a herd of cows with calves out to pasture in the field next to my
field. Except one cow was tena varjitaḥ, without
the object in question, without her calf, which had presumably gone to satisfy the French appetite for veal. And this bereaved mother
spent the whole night relentlessly mooing, so that I who was sleeping
out in a caravan a matter of yards away from her got barely a wink of
sleep. The next morning when I looked at her, she was a terrible
sight, her red eyes sunken deep into her drawn face. But within a day
or two she seemed to be chewing the cud as contentedly as all the
other cows in the field. “That,” I thought to myself, “is how
to grieve.”
Saujasvi cacāra, as I
read it, then, "making a physical effort to move oneself" is what happens in nature when a natural being is
grieving. Albeit without a spring in the step, the natural being
keeps on moving, by an effort of physical trying. Only a being which
can act unnaturally, because of its big thinking brain, that is a
human being, can respond to the feeling of being overwhelmed by grief
like Cesar did, by giving up and swallowing a bunch of pills. Having spent so many years teaching other human beings to learn from dogs how to be more natural, Cesar went and did something all too human, demonstrating that he hasn't got to the end yet of all the lessons that dogs and horses – to say nothing of buddhas – have to teach us. Me neither.
The three professors
each translated tena in the 4th pāda “his master,”
which is of course the ostensible meaning, but I preferred not to
specify the object because I think Aśvaghoṣa has in mind the
essence of grieving for all of us, two-legged and four-legged beings
alike, which is being without him, or her, or it – being without
the object in question.
I
haven't written the above comment as an expert in grieving. On the
contrary, I might have demonstrated over the past 30 years or so that
I am rubbish at allowing processes like a natural being does, and am more of an expert at suppressing the self as only a thinking being does.
Nevertheless,
I want to conclude this comment by daring to express a dissenting
view and opinion on what I perceive as a tendency towards reducing
both the Buddha's teaching and Alexander work to practice of
“mindfulness.” The Buddha's emphasis on the importance of smṛti,
which means mindfulness or awareness or attention, is evident in the
number of times in SN Cantos 13 through 16 that the Buddha sings the
praises smṛti. True mindfulness is one of the branches of the noble
eightfold path that the Buddha taught straight after his
enlightenment, and not losing mindfulness is one of the eight truths
of a great human being that the Buddha taught on the night before he
died. But I think there is more to what the Buddha called bhāvanā
than mindfulness, as is evident from reading Aśvaghoṣa's writings.
And there is more to what Alexander called “the work,” than
mindfulness – as Alexander's niece Marjory Barlow took pains to
impress on me.
In
what Alexander called “the work,” we are pursuing, Marjory said,
a definite pattern – as expressed for example by the words “head
forward and up, back to lengthen and widen, knees forwards and away.”
With
bhāvanā also, I think bhāvanā as the Buddha taught it was not
only a function of mindfulness, but was originally a function of
sitting with feet on opposite thighs.
That being so, sometimes bhāvanā might mean just to make a physical effort to sit in lotus with the body (SHIN NO KEKKAFUZA), while not being in any condition to breathe deeply, while being devoid of ebullience through one's whole being, and while totally lacking lustre. In this matter, at least, if not in the matter of constantly maintaining mindfulness, I do know whereof I speak.
VOCABULARY
hayaḥ
(nom. sg.): m. a horse
ca:
and
saujasvi
(nom. sg. m.): ind. powerfully, with bodily strength
-ojasvi
= adverbial usage of ojasvin: mfn. vigorous , powerful , strong ,
energetic
ojas:
n. bodily strength , vigour , energy , ability , power ; vitality
(the principle of vital warmth and action throughout the body)
cacāra
= 3rd pers. sg. perf. car: to move one's self , go , walk
, move , stir , roam about , wander
saujāḥ
[EHJ] = nom. sg. m. saujas: mfn. strong , powerful Bcar.
vicacāra
= 3rd pers. sg. perf. vi- √ car: to move in different
directions ; to rove , ramble about or through ; to sally forth
kanthakaḥ
(nom. sg.): m. Kanthaka
tatāma
= 3rd pers. sg. perf. tam: to gasp for breath (as one
suffocating) , choke , be suffocated , faint away , be exhausted ,
perish , be distressed or disturbed or perplexed
bhāvena
(inst. sg.): m. any state of mind or body , way of thinking or
feeling ; the seat of the feelings or affections , heart , soul ,
mind
babhūva
= 3rd pers. sg. perf. bhū: to be, become
nirmadaḥ
(nom. sg. m.): mfn. unintoxicated , sober , quiet , humble , modest
; not in rut (elephant)
alaṁkṛtaḥ
(nom. sg. m.): mfn. adorned , decorated
ca:
and
api:
even, though
tathā:
ind. in that manner
eva:
(emphatic)
bhūṣaṇaiḥ
(inst. pl.): n. embellishment , ornament , decoration
abhūt
= 3rd pers. sg. aorist bhū: to be, become
gata-śrīḥ
(nom. sg. m.): mfn. one who has obtained fortune or happiness ; his
lustre gone
śrī:
f. light , lustre , radiance , splendour , glory ; prosperity ,
welfare
gata:
gone, gone to any state or condition; disappeared (often in comp.)
iva:
like, as if
tena
(inst. sg. m.): him, it [the prince]
varjitaḥ
(nom. sg. m.): mfn. (with instr. or ifc.) deprived of , wanting ,
without , with the exception of
良馬素體駿 奮迅有威相
躑躅顧瞻仰 不覩太子形
躑躅顧瞻仰 不覩太子形
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