Loading ...
Sorry, an error occurred while loading the content.

Thursday, November 14, 2002

Expand Messages
  • Jerry Katz
    [Image] Issue #1257 - Thursday, November 14, 2002 - Edited by Jerry In this issue, new offerings on web _____________________________________________________
    Message 1 of 1 , Nov 15, 2002
    • 0 Attachment

      Issue #1257 - Thursday, November 14, 2002 - Edited by Jerry

      In this issue, new offerings on web
      _____________________________________________________

      STUDIOGANGSTER from http://studiogangster.com/

      I did it again: I entered a Christian chat room on Yahoo
      to see how long I can go without getting into a debate or
      provoking an evangelist. Imagine trying to walk through
      a minefield and come out the other end with all your
      appendages intact.

      To put it most simply, nonduality is the Eastern concept
      (or nonconcept?) that things don’t have to be seen as
      black or white. We Westerners are used to the true/false
      kind of thinking. If something is true, then its opposite
      must be false. No wonder most of us can’t stand people
      with differing opinions; we treat opinions as facts most
      of the time without admitting it. Though classical
      science has relied heavily on rigid logic, new sciences
      (namely quantum physics) are starting to tell us that
      things can’t always be answered with a simple yes or no.
      The most commonly stated example is that of light: light
      is both a wave and a particle though those two states are
      generally thought to be mutually exclusive.

      My first brush with nonduality was when I was five years
      old. I was reading a book that had a picture of a
      friendly bear on one page. I showed the bear to my dad
      and asked, “Pa, is a bear nice or mean?” He said it was
      nice. I asked my mom. My mom, being the slightly paranoid
      overprotective type, replied, “It’s mean. Bears are can
      attack people.” I scratched my head in confusion. Are
      bears nice or mean? I asked my parents when they were
      together so I can witness the debate. They argued for a
      bit, and I heard my dad whisper to my mom something to
      this effect, “Don’t confuse him. He’s young and doesn’t
      need to know about bears in the wild. Just tell him it’s
      nice.” She acquiesced, and we agreed that the bear is
      nice.

      It didn’t occur to me until a few years later that
      categories are only useful for particular questions and
      tasks and that taken out of context, categories become
      useless or misleading. Categories are designed to help us
      look at one variable (or a limited set of variables),
      such has color, shape, or in my case, the amiability of
      an animal. When you categorize something, you have to
      limit yourself to only relevant variables to make the
      categorizing useful. Considering only smiling bears in
      picture books for children, it would generally be correct
      to state that bears are nice. Make the context different
      and you introduce a bunch of variables (possible
      circumstances). Take the bear out of the children’s book
      and put it in the newspaper and you might have an angry
      bear attacking loggers. Overgeneralizing, of course, is
      the progenitor of racism, sexism, and all them other
      isms.

      However, I do understand my dad’s approach in simplifying
      the answer to suit my young age. It is similar to the
      Buddhist concept of a upaya, a skillful pedagogical
      means, or a white lie to help someone learn something.
      Imagine for instance a mom telling her very small child,
      “Don’t cross the street because monsters will get you.”
      As the child ages and is able to understand authority
      better, mommy says, “Don’t cross the street because the
      policeman will arrest you.” When the child gets a little
      older, mom tells him finally, “Be careful when you cross
      the street because a car may hit you.” Approached
      strictly literally, it would appear as if mom was lying
      because of the apparent contradictions. But if you look
      at mom’s motives and her assessment of the child’s
      changing perceptions of the world, she looks wise and
      practical.

      I believe that religions are upaya. If you look at them
      logically, religions are lies because of their inherent
      contradictions. However, religious contradictions stem
      from the insufficiency of verbal language to communicate
      the most fundamental human questions. Language is based
      on compartmentalization—categorizing. It is our way of
      breaking apart the world into mentally digestible pieces.
      Despite its power, language cannot completely integrate
      these pieces into the unified whole which some call God.
      Try as you might, but you will only end up with
      approximations of God if you attempt to categorize Her.
      What we are dealing with when we sincerely follow a
      religion is a homework assignment devised by a skillful
      teacher that will help us learn something to which the
      lecture can only allude. Do not take the lecture for the
      knowledge itself.

      Nonduality is the understanding that words can only
      describe difference, that true unity (of everything) is
      beyond words. “Both John and Sue have red hair” may
      appear to describe similarity, but it is implicitly
      contrasting John and Sue’s hair with people with black
      hair. “God is all powerful,” denies the possibility that
      God can make himself weak. Here’s a paradox: Is God
      powerful enough to make a rock he doesn’t have the power
      to lift? You are in a double bind in answering this
      question because this question doesn’t really refer to
      anything in reality. As the semanticist Korzybski liked
      to say, “A map is not the territory,” but we often forget
      this and think that California is really pink and two
      inches tall and Texas is blue and has a black border
      around it. We often forget and think that our map is the
      only correct map.

      Armed with this beautiful doctrine that doctrines aren’t
      to be taken too literally, I went in the chat room to
      test if I could maintain my nondual (lack of a) position.
      The first question someone asks me was, “Do you believe
      in Christ?” I could’ve gone the Socratic direction and
      made him define his terms until it was shown that his
      terms were self-reflexive and what not, but that wouldn’t
      be nondual. So I attempted to understand his emotions,
      intentions in choosing Christ, and circumstances in which
      Christ helped him—basically try to find the unity in our
      different religious expressions. Of course, as we
      continued our conversation, he pressed on with his
      aggressively black or white question until I finally
      replied that though I believe Jesus seems like a really
      swell guy, I’m still unsure of his story. I’m not
      omniscient enough to verify the historical facts
      surrounding his life. And of course, he brings up faith.
      I still tried to not take sides and avoided getting into
      a debate and citing things like Kierkegaardian apophatic
      theology. Eventually, I was able to wiggle my way out of
      death by virtual stoning by explaining my “problem” to
      him in terms palatable to a Christian; I said I have
      already asked for Jesus to come into my life and I am
      waiting patiently for his grace to bestow upon me that
      gift of faith in him.

      Have I internalized nonduality yet? I guess not. Though I
      had appeared to not take sides and act defensively, in
      my heart I know I felt a tinge of superiority for having
      the more encompassing viewpoint of nonduality. Ironic
      isn’t it? Nonduality becomes duality when you try to
      differentiate duality from nonduality. Some things are
      meant to be left unspoken.

      __________________________________________________________________

      Nonduality Of Christ by Tadas Talaikis
      <http://www.powerstressmanagement.com/free-ebooks-tools/tadas.htm>

      "I am the Light of the world: he that followeth Me shall
      not walk in darkness, but shall have the Light of Life."
      John 8:12

      "All things were made by him, and without him was not
      anything made that was made." John 1:3

      'In him was life, and the life was the light of men."
      John 1:4

      "And the light (Christ) shineth in the darkness; and the
      darkness comprehendeth it not." John 1:5

      "That was the true Light, which lighteth every man that
      is born into this world." John 1:9

      "I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the
      ending" sayeth the Lord, "which is, and which was, and
      which is to come, the Almighty." Revelations 1:8

      "These things I have spoken to you that in me you might
      have peace. In the world you shall have tribulations: But
      be of good cheer; I have overcome (conquered) the
      world." John 16:33

      "I give you a commandment: Love one another." John 15:12

      "For I have not spoken of myself, but the Father which
      sent me, he gave me a commandment, what I should say, and
      what I should speak. And I know his commandment is life
      everlasting." John 12:49

      "Verily, verily, I say unto you, before Abraham was, I
      AM." John 8:58

      "Believe me that I am in the Father, and the Father in
      me, or else believe me for the very works' sake." John
      14:12

      "The light of the body is the eye: Therefore, when thine
      eye is single, your whole body will be filled with
      light...." Luke 11:34

      "Go first to God and all things will be added unto you."
      Luke 12:31

      ______________________________________________________________________

      A Goer Does Not Go, by : Sadakata Akira

      "A goer does not go," or "a comer does not come" -- what
      exactly do these statements mean? Should they not read "a
      goer goes" and "a comer comes"?

      The statement "a goer  does not go" represents the words
      of Nagarjuna, an Indian  Buddhist philosopher of around
      the third century A.D.,  and he used them to explain the
      philosophical principle  of 'emptiness' *1 As many people
      know, the principle of  emptiness is the essence of
      Buddhist philosophy, teaching  us that what we refer to
      as 'substance' does not exist.  (I use the pronoun "we"
      to denote people conditioned by  contemporary Western
      ways of thinking and unfamiliar with  Buddhist
      philosophy.)

      'Emptiness' is the English  equivalent of the Sanskrit
      term sunyata, a word that is  difficult to translate into
      Western languages, for no  similar concept exists in
      traditional Western thought.  But although Western
      Indologists have provisionally  rendered sunyata as
      'emptiness', vacuite, and so on, such  translations
      easily lead to misunderstanding, since they  are
      synonymous with 'nonexistence', the opposite of
      'existence'. According to Western thinking, what does not
      exist is nonexistent; conversely, if something is not
      nonexistent, it must exist, and there is no intermediate
      state (law of the excluded middle). The term 'emptiness',
      on the other hand, refers to a state of being neither
      existent nor nonexistent.

      Even among Buddhists who have  been studying Buddhism for
      a long time there are many who  are under the false
      impression that 'emptiness' and  'nonexistence' are
      synonyms. Although they may take care  consciously not to
      confuse the two, they still do so  unconsciously. This
      goes to show just how difficult it is  to gain a correct
      understanding of the concept of  emptiness. What is more,
      this has been an issue ever  since the philosophy of
      emptiness was first propounded,  and for those who
      confuse emptiness with nonexistence  there have been
      provided these words of admonition:  "emptiness is also
      empty."

      But it is virtually impossible  to rid such people of
      their misunderstanding by this  means, for they will
      again confuse the emptiness  underlying the statement
      "emptiness is also empty" with  nonexistence and
      postulate a new form of nonexistence.

      In  order to free them from this misconception, one could
      perhaps say to them, "The fact that emptiness is empty
      is  also empty." But this would probably be of no avail,
      since they would simply posit another form of
      nonexistence. In the end, no amount of words will have
      any effect on those who have succumbed to a prejudiced
      view, which in this case is the idea that there exists a
      substance or entity corresponding to each word. Thus they
      consider the word 'emptiness' to signify a particular
      kind of substance. In other words, they equate emptiness
      with nonexistence. We normally think of 'nonexistence'
      not as representing a substance, but rather as
      representing the absence of substance. This is, however,
      a delusion. When we say, "there is space," 'space' (that
      is, nonexistence) represents a substance, as is
      exemplified by Newtonian space.

      At university I explain  the difference between emptiness
      and nonexistence to my  students in the following manner.
      I enter the classroom,  walk to the rostrum, and place my
      briefcase under the  rostrum where it cannot be seen by
      the students. Then,  after having talked for about thirty
      minutes, I bend down  slowly, pick up the briefcase from
      under the rostrum,  place it on top of the rostrum, and
      say nothing for a  moment or two. The students, wondering
      what is about to  happen, fix their eyes on the
      briefcase. Having  ascertained this, I put the briefcase
      back under the  rostrum and begin my explanation.

      I tell the students  that they are now no doubt looking
      at the space on top of  the rostrum with the awareness
      that the briefcase is not  there. In other words, they
      are associating this space  with a type of
      'nonexistence'. However, the space above  the rostrum is
      identical to the space above the rostrum  during the
      first thirty minutes of the class, and during  that
      thirty minutes they would not have had any thoughts  of
      'nonexistence' regarding this space. It would have  been
      for them in a state anterior to any division between
      existence and nonexistence, and they could be said to
      have been looking at it with minds free of any
      preconceptions. These two attitudes of theirs towards the
      same space correspond, I say, to the difference between
      emptiness and nonexistence.

      It might be added that Zen  (or Chan) thinkers refer to
      the state of nonawareness as  'no-mind', and they often
      use this term to refer to what  they regard as the ideal
      state of being.

      Out of the  conviction that it is pointless trying to
      explain the  meaning of emptiness, no matter how many
      words one may  expend, there emerged in Buddhism the
      axiom that ultimate  truth (or the truth of emptiness) is
      beyond all verbal  expression. This means that one must
      give up any idea of  using language to explain truth.

      Abandoning the use of  language is equivalent to
      abandoning the act of  differentiation. This is because
      the essence of language  lies in differentiating one
      thing from another. For  example, the word 'large'
      differentiates what is large  from what is not large and
      points to the former.  Likewise, the word 'white'
      distinguishes between what is  white and what is not
      white, 'book' distinguishes between  what is a book and
      what is not a book, and 'existent'  distinguishes between
      what is existent and what is not  existent. Therefore,
      the Buddhist term for dispensing  with language
      (including concepts, which are unspoken  words) is
      'nondifferentiation' (or 'nondiscrimination'),  and the
      appearance of the world prior to differentiation  is
      described as 'nondual'. (In passing, it might be
      mentioned that, etymologically speaking, the prefix
      dif-/dis- means 'twice', while the Japanese word
      kotowake, signifying 'explication' or 'apology',
      literally means 'dividing' [wake] a 'matter' [koto].)

      The  observant reader will have realized that if language
      cannot impart truth, then words such as
      'nondifferentiation' and 'nonduality' can also not
      apprise us of the truth. This is indeed so, and Buddhist
      philosophers have been fully aware of this fact. In a
      certain Buddhist scripture we find the following episode.

      Once the Buddha's disciples were discussing what it meant
      to understand 'nonduality'. One of the disciples said,
      "Birth and death are a duality, but in reality nothing is
      born and nothing dies; realization of this is called
      'understanding nonduality'." Another disciple said,
      "'I'(subject) and 'mine'(object) are a duality, for where
      there is 'I' there is also 'mine', but if there is no
      'I', then there is no 'mine'; realization of this is
      called 'understanding nonduality'."

      Yet another disciple  said, "Existents and emptiness are
      a duality, but  existents and emptiness are in fact
      identical;  realization of this is called 'understanding
      nonduality'."

      After the disciples had each given his own  view, they
      asked Manjusri, who was known for his wisdom,  what he
      thought, whereupon he replied, "All things  transcend the
      realms of word and speech, and the  abandonment of all
      argument is called 'understanding  nonduality'."

      Manjusri's reply went beyond the replies of  the other
      disciples. Whereas they had remained unaware of  the
      limitations of language throughout their discussion,
      Mausri realized its limitations and pointed this out.

      Lastly, Manjusri said to Vimalakirti, the only one not to
      have offered his opinion, "It's your turn. What is meant
      by 'understanding nonduality'?"

      Vimalakirti remained  silent without saying a word. He
      looked full of  confidence, and seeing this, Manjusri
      exclaimed,  "Excellent, excellent! You have uttered not a
      word, and  yet it is you who have explained the most
      skillfully what  it means to understand nonduality."

      But even after  hearing of episodes such as the above our
      faith in  language may still remain unshaken. We have
      always  believed that there is birth and death, and even
      now  cannot help believing that this is so. This is
      hardly  surprising, for ever since we were born into this
      world  we have been brought up in an environment where
      this use  of language is the norm, and we never had the
      opportunity  to question it.

      For those of us who place unwavering  trust in language,
      emptiness seems like mere dogma, and  rather than being
      an object of understanding, it would  appear to be an
      object of faith. If at all possible, we  would like to be
      brought to an understanding of emptiness  by means of
      language, that is, by logic, yet the  philosophers of
      emptiness are seemingly unacquainted with  any such
      methods of instruction. But actually Nagarjuna  does in
      fact respond to these wishes of ours, and one of  the
      expressions that he used towards this end was the
      statement "a goer does not go" quoted at the beginning.

      Most people maintain that "a goer goes," but Nagarjuna
      rejects this.

      How could it be possible for a goer to go  When, without
      the act of going, there can be no goer?

      The import of
      this statement may appear difficult to fathom, but it
      means something like this. The idea that "a goer goes" is
      predicated on the assumption that a 'goer' and the act
      of  'going' constitute two separate phenomena. Hence a
      'goer'  already contains within himself the act of
      'going' and  has no need to be linked anew to any act of
      'going',  since a 'goer' who does not 'go' is a logical
      impossibility.

      Therefore, the proposition "a goer goes"
      gives rise to the contradiction of there being two acts
      of 'going'. This is made clear in Nagarjuna's following
      words:

      If a goer were to go, it would follow that there would be
      two acts of going. The first act of 'going' is inherent
      in the word 'goer', while the second is the act of
      'going' that represents the movement performed by the
      'goer'. Furthermore, if there were two acts of 'going',
      this would lead to the absurd conclusion that there are
      two 'goers', since it is impossible for there to be only
      an act of 'going' without a 'goer'.

      The above argument  provides a penetrating insight into
      the essence of  language. Every phenomenon constitutes a
      complete whole  that cannot in itself be divided into
      parts. But when we  set about representing it by means of
      language, we have  to go through the process of first
      dividing it into a  subject and an action and then
      recombining the two. This  results in the statement that
      a 'goer' (subject) 'goes'  (verb = predicate).

      It would seem that all communication  is of this nature.
      When an image is transmitted  electronically, it is first
      dissected into small  elemental areas, the shade or tone
      of which is converted  into corresponding electrical
      signals that are then sent  to the receiving station,
      where they are reconverted to  reproduce the original
      image. Most people today know  this, but they never think
      of applying this knowledge to  language. It is this fact,
      unnoticed by us all, to which  Nagarjuna is alluding.

      However, Nagarjuna's explanation  is not particularly
      helpful. This is because the  unnatural statement "a goer
      goes" is not used in everyday  speech, and consequently
      people may question whether his  criticism is in fact
      applicable to natural speech as  well. In order to dispel
      this doubt, I shall try to  elaborate further on his
      exposition.

      Our everyday speech  is made up of statements such as the
      following:

      John goes. John falls. John laughs. John cries.
      ..........

      From countless expressions like these, we abstract an
      unchanging entity called 'John'. Although this John is,
      properly speaking, a going John, a falling John, a
      laughing John, a crying John, or a John performing some
      other action, we educe a 'John' who is unrelated to any
      of these actions. Under no circumstances does there exist
      any such abstract 'John', and yet we persuade ourselves
      that this abstract 'John' does exist. Next, let us
      consider the following series of sentences:

      John goes. Mary goes. The dog goes. The train goes.

      ...............

      On the basis of expressions such as  these, we abstract
      the universal action of 'going'. There  is no such action
      as 'going' per se:it is always  someone or something that
      goes. But in spite of this we  tacitly take it for
      granted that there exists an act of  'going' per se.

      We then go on to interpret everyday  phenomena in the
      following manner. We assume, namely,  that there exist
      various substances of entities, each of  which chooses to
      perform certain actions as it sees fit.  In other words,
      substances and actions each exist  independently of each
      other, and a particular substance  is combined with a
      particular action as the occasion  demands. In this
      fashion the idea of a 'substance'  becomes deeply
      entrenched in our minds through everyday  statements of
      the type "A does B." This is especially so  in the case
      of contemporary European languages, which  are
      characterized by the linguistic structure "subject  plus
      verb" (S+V). (In many other languages such as  Japanese
      the subject is frequently omitted.)

      The reader  may initially have thought that Nagarjuna had
      simply  substituted the statement "a goer goes" for the
      statement "John goes" to suit the convenience of his own
      arguments. But it should now be clear that in the
      proposition "John goes" there is no John other than a
      'going John', and yet people first posit a 'John'
      unrelated to the act of 'going' and then say, "John
      goes." This, if anything, represents a specious
      substitution of words.

      In the above we have considered  the case of "subject
      plus verb" (S+V), but the same also  applies in the case
      of "subject plus verb plus object"  (S+V+O). Suppose, for
      example, that I beat a dog. Before  this situation is
      expressed in language (that is, before  I consciously
      think of it), 'I', 'beat' and 'dog'  constitute a single,
      indivisible phenomenon in which  there exists no 'I'
      divorced from 'beat' and 'dog'. This  state is described
      by some Japanese philosophers as the  nonseparation of
      subject and object.

      It is only when this  phenomenon impinges upon our
      consciousness and is  verbalized that it is divided into
      subject and object and  manifests as the three
      independent elements of 'I',  'dog' and the act of
      'beating', the last of which links  the former two. I
      wrote earlier that this occurs when  transmitting
      information, and the act of becoming  conscious of
      something can be regarded as equivalent to  the
      transmission of information, for it represents the
      transmission of information to oneself by oneself.

      The  two stages before and after verbalization can be
      considered to correspond to the difference between
      sensation and judgment. This calls to mind the following
      words of Goethe: "The ears and eyes do not lie; it is
      judgment that lies" (Maxims and Reflections, "Thought and
      Action"). When we see a rope and mistake it for a snake,
      we are prone to think that it was our senses that erred
      and our judgment that corrected this error. Perhaps
      because animals of a lower order are also endowed with
      different senses, we regard the senses as gross and
      judgment as refined. But it is our judgment that both
      mistakes the rope for a snake and realizes the mistake.
      The senses never err, for they transcend right and wrong;
      it is judgment that makes mistakes and then corrects
      them. *2

      A further characteristic of language is that the  same
      words are used over and over again without changing
      their form. This too is probably another factor that
      contributes to our belief that there exist immutable
      entities corresponding to individual words.

      In this  fashion we image that if there is a word, then
      there is  also a corresponding substance. In most cases
      there is no  harm in this view, and in fact human beings
      have adhered  to this way of thinking for the very reason
      that it has  brought benefits as a result of which they
      have even come  to create great civilizations. But
      sometimes we forget  the essence of language and are
      instead harmed by words  and suffer from their ill
      effects. Let us now consider a  number of these harmful
      words.

      'I' -- This is the word  with which we have the greatest
      affinity, and it is also  the word that we repeat most
      often. Consequently our  belief in the existence of an
      immutable entity called 'I'  (one could just as well say
      'soul') becomes all the more  ineradicable. This gives
      rise to self-consciousness, to  which it then lends a
      further edge, and this  self-consciousness becomes a
      psychological burden and  causes friction with others.

      At the same time, this sense  of self leads us to
      entertain false ideas about our own  death. We imagine a
      universe from which only our own  person is missing. In
      this manner we conceive of our  death, and it frightens
      us. But we fail to realize that  it is because we are
      alive that we can imagine such  things. It is impossible
      for any living person to  visualize his or her own death.
      The reason that we  nonetheless indulge in such
      imaginings is that, because  of the existence of the word
      'I', we assume that there  also exists an entity 'I' that
      is independent of the  universe.

      The word 'individual' exacerbates these  delusions. An
      'individual' is nothing but an abstract  notion. In
      reality one will be someone's parent or  someone's child,
      and one may be a Japanese or an  American. But a person
      independent of all relationships  -- that is, an
      individual -- simply does not exist.

      'Atom' -- This signifies the ultimate irreducible form of
      matter. Any physicist who believes that it will one day
      be possible to track this down has fallen into the trap
      of words. An 'atom' is nothing more than a word, and no
      such thing actually exists.

      'Infinity'. -- Physicists  have debated whether the
      universe is finite or infinite,  and apparently the
      arguments for the thesis that it is  finite are the more
      compelling. But this debate is also  nonsensical, for
      'finiteness' and 'infinity' are no more  than words and
      do not actually exist. But I do not want  to leave a
      false impression. Despite what I have written  in the
      above, the philosophers of emptiness are not  telling us
      to desist from using language. So long as we  do not lose
      sight of the essence of language, it is  warrantable to
      make full use of it. Provided that words  such as 'soul'
      and 'individual' make people happy and  terms such as
      'atom' and 'infinity' contribute to the  development of
      science and technology, then it has to be  said that
      language should be utilized to its full  capacity. In
      this sense, words are tools, and like a  knife, they can
      be both dangerous and beneficial. Not  only does the
      philosophy of emptiness teach us about the  true nature
      of the world, but it also imparts the wisdom  for
      preventing language from becoming a lethal implement.

      --------------

      *1. This statement is found in the
      "Mulamadhyamakakarika", Nagarjuna's most important work.
      In the original Sanskrit (the classical language of
      ancient India) it reads: "ganta na gacchati". Like Greek
      and Latin, Sanskrit belongs to the Indo-European family
      of languages, and it is therefore a simple matter to
      convert this sentence into European languages. The "gan-"
      of "ganta" represents the root "gam", corresponding to
      English 'go' or 'come', while "-ta" is the nominative
      singular of the agentive suffix "-tr" (-tar), equivalent
      to English '-er'; "na" is a negative particle ('not');
      and "gacchati" is the third person singular of the
      present indicative of "gam". The English translation "a
      goer does not go" is that of Richard H. Robinson, a
      scholar of Madhyamika thought.

      *2. Nietzsche says much the same thing, but in a more
      philosophical manner and in a way that almost suggests
      that he himself had studied Nagarjuna's philosophy of the
      negation of substance.

      [The senses] do not lie at all. It is what we "make" of
      their evidence that first introduces a lie into it, for
      example the lie of unity, the lie of materiality, of
      substance, of duration.... 'Reason' is the cause of our
      falsification of the evidence of the senses.

      Twilight of the Idols, "'Reason' in Philosophy" 2 (R.J.
      Hollingdale, tr., Twilight of the Idols and The
      Anti-Christ [Penguin Books, 1968], p. 36)

      ... in the present case our "language" as a perpetual
      advocate. Language belongs in its origin to the age of
      the most rudimentary form of psychology: we find
      ourselves in the midst of a rude fetishism when we call
      to mind the basic presuppositions of the metaphysics of
      language -- which is to say, of "reason". It is "this"
      which sees everywhere deed and doer; this which believes
      in will as cause in general; this which believes in the
      'ego', in the ego as being, in the ego as substance, and
      which "projects" its beliefs in the ego-substance on to
      all things -- ....

      Twilight of the Idols, "'Reason' in Philosophy" 5 (ibid.,
      pp. 37-38)

      Sadakata Akira is a professor of Indian Buddhism at Tokai
      University.


      Things Pray
      by Sam

      A true teacher cannot be found inside the mind.  In that I take heart. 
      --Vicki Woodyard

    Your message has been successfully submitted and would be delivered to recipients shortly.