Sunday, April 23, 2023

Recent Reflections & Ruminations

Hello everyone – 

In this issue, I’d like to share with you some snippets of things that I’ve been reading and reflecting upon recently. There are some thematic elements that these passages have in common, but they are also rather variegated. 😊 We begin with an invocation from one of the oldest sacred books in the world – the Rig Veda from India.

 

Gayatri Mantra

Om Bhur Bhuvaḥ Swaḥ

Tat-savitur Vareñyaṃ

Bhargo Devasya Dhīmahi

Dhiyo Yonaḥ Prachodayāt

Rig Veda 3.62.10[11]

 

“We meditate on that most adored Supreme Lord,

The Creator, whose effulgence (divine light) illumines

All realms (physical, mental and spiritual).

May this divine light illumine our intellect.”

(Translation @ https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Gayatri_Mantra)

 

Editor’s Note:

                I’ve been revisiting the Gilgamesh Epic and related legends quite a bit recently. The prologue to the epic eulogizes the world’s first superhero, King Gilgamesh of Uruk (fl. ca. 27th century BCE) as follows:

“He who the heart of all matters has proven, let him teach the nation, He who all knowledge possesses, therein shall he school all the people, He shall his wisdom impart and so shall they share it together. Gilgamesh — he was the Master of wisdom, with knowledge of all things, He it was who discovered the secret concealed. Aye, he handed down the tradition relating to things prediluvian, He went on a journey afar, all aweary and worn with his toiling. He engraved on a tablet of stone all the travail.”

-- Prologue to the Gilgamesh Epic (Slightly Modernized by the Editor from the 1929 Translation by R. Campbell Thompson)

                After the death of his steadfast warrior-companion, Enkidu, Gilgamesh went on a quest to find the secret of immortality in the far eastern regions of the world. The following summary describes the events leading up to his meeting with Siduri (the first Sibyl in world literature, who may have been Inanna, the celestial intelligence of the planet Venus), along with the advice that she gives to help him deal with his heartfelt grief.

 

Excerpt from Chapter 8 of Myths of Babylonia and Assyria by Donald A. MacKenzie (1915)

[Slightly Modernized by the Editor]

                Gilgamesh set out on his journey and in time reached a mountain chasm. Gazing on the rugged heights, he beheld fierce lions and his heart trembled. Then he cried upon the Moon god, who took pity upon him, and under divine protection the hero pressed onward. He crossed the rocky range and then found himself confronted by the tremendous mountain of Mashu – "Sunset Hill,” which divided the land of the living from the western land of the dead. The mountain peak rose to heaven, and its foundations were in Arallu, the underworld. A dark tunnel pierced it and could be entered through a door, but the door was shut and on either side were two monsters of horrible aspect – the gigantic "scorpion man" and his wife, whose heads reached to the clouds. When Gilgamesh beheld them he swooned with terror. But they did him no harm, perceiving that he was a son of a god and had a body like a god.

                When Gilgamesh revived, he realized that the monsters regarded him with eyes of sympathy. Addressing the scorpion giant, he told that he desired to visit his ancestor, Utnapishtim, who sat in the council of the gods and had divine attributes. The giant warned him of the dangers which he would encounter, saying that the mountain passage was twelve miles long and beamless and black. Gilgamesh, however, resolved to encounter any peril, for he was no longer afraid, and he was allowed to go forward. So he entered through the monster-guarded mountain door and plunged into thick unbroken darkness. For twice twelve hours he groped blindly onward, until he saw a ray of light. Quickening his steps, he then escaped from the dreadful tunnel and once more rejoiced in the rays of the Sun. He found himself in an enchanted garden, and in the midst of it he saw a divine and beautiful tree towards which he hastened. On its gleaming branches hung clusters of precious stones and its leaves were of lapis lazuli. His eyes were dazzled, but he did not linger there. Passing many other wonderful trees, he came to a shoreland, and he knew that he was drawing nigh to the Sea of Death. The country which he entered was ruled over by the sea lady whose name was Siduri. When she saw the pilgrim drawing nigh, she entered her palace and shut the door.

                Gilgamesh called out requesting that he should be allowed to enter, and mingled his entreaties with threats to break open the door. In the end Siduri appeared and spoke, saying:

“Gilgamesh, whither are you hurrying?

The life that you seek, you will not find.

When the gods created humanity,

They fixed death for humankind.

Life they took in their own hand.

You, O Gilgamesh, let your belly be filled!

Day and night be merry,

Daily celebrate a feast,

Day and night dance and make merry!

Clean be your clothes,

Your head be washed, bathe in water!

Look joyfully on the child that grasps your hand,

Be happy with the wife in your arms!”

                Gilgamesh did not accept the counsel of the fatalistic sea lady. He asked her how he could reach Utnapishtim, his ancestor, saying he was prepared to cross the Sea of Death: if he could not cross it he would die of grief.

                Siduri answered him, saying: "O Gilgamesh, no mortal is ferried over this great sea. Who can pass over it save Shamash alone? The way is full of peril. O Gilgamesh, how can you battle against the billows of death?"

                At length, however, the sea lady revealed to the pilgrim that he might obtain the aid of the sailor, Urshanabi, who served his ancestor Utnapishtim.

 

A Biblical Echo of Siduri’s Advice:

Ecclesiastes 9:7-9 (JPS 1917, Slighted Modernized by the Editor)

                Go your way, eat your bread with joy, and drink your wine with a merry heart; for G*d has already accepted your works.

                Let your garments be always white; and let your head lack no oil.

                Enjoy life with the wife whom you love all the days of the life of your vanity, which He has given you under the Sun, all the days of your vanity; for that is your portion in life, and in your labor wherein you labor under the Sun.

 

King Gilgamesh bids farewell to Siduri the Sibyl and one of her acolytes in this illustration from Ishtar and Izdubar, a versified English paraphrase of the Gilgamesh Epic by Leonidas Le Cenci Hamilton, published in 1884. (Image Credit: Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons)

 

“There is nothing permanent except change.”

-- Heraclitus of Ephesus (540-480 BCE), Proto-Stoic Greek Philosopher

 

“Ëala Ëarendel, engla beorhtast,

ofer middan-geard monnum sended.”

“Hail Ëarendel, brightest of angels,

over Middle-Earth to humankind sent.”

-- Cynewulf (Old English, 9th Century CE)

 

“Ichigo, ichie.” = “One life, one opportunity.”

-- Attributed to Sen no Rikyu (1522-1591), Japanese Tea Master

 

“There is a tide in the affairs of men,

Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;

Omitted, all the voyage of their life

Is bound in shallows and in miseries.

On such a full sea are we now afloat;

And we must take the current when it serves,

Or lose our ventures.”

-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Julius Caesar, Act IV, Scene 3

 

“Ulysses”

By Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809-1892), Poet Laureate of the United Kingdom

(Lines in BOLD have been most meaningful to me over the last few months.)

 

It little profits that an idle king,

By this still hearth, among these barren crags,

Matched with an aged wife, I mete and dole

Unequal laws unto a savage race,

That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.

I cannot rest from travel; I will drink

Life to the lees. All times I have enjoyed

Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those

That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when

Through scudding drifts the rainy Hyades

Vext the dim sea. I am become a name;

For always roaming with a hungry heart

Much have I seen and known — cities of men

And manners, climates, councils, governments,

Myself not least, but honored of them all, —

And drunk delight of battle with my peers,

Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.

I am a part of all that I have met;

Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough

Gleams that untraveled world whose margin fades

Forever and forever when I move.

How dull it is to pause, to make an end,

To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!

As though to breathe were life! Life piled on life

Were all too little, and of one to me

Little remains; but every hour is saved

From that eternal silence, something more,

A bringer of new things; and vile it were

For some three suns to store and hoard myself,

And this gray spirit yearning in desire

To follow knowledge like a sinking star,

Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.

 

This is my son, mine own Telemachus,

To whom I leave the scepter and the isle,

Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfill

This labor, by slow prudence to make mild

A rugged people, and through soft degrees

Subdue them to the useful and the good.

Most blameless is he, centered in the sphere

Of common duties, decent not to fail

In offices of tenderness, and pay

Meet adoration to my household gods,

When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.

 

There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail;

There gloom the dark, broad seas. My mariners,

Souls that have toiled, and wrought, and thought with me,

That ever with a frolic welcome took

The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed

Free hearts, free foreheads — you and I are old;

Old age hath yet his honor and his toil.

Death closes all; but something ere the end,

Some work of noble note, may yet be done,

Not unbecoming men that strove with gods.

The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks;

The long day wanes; the slow moon climbs; the deep

Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,

'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.

Push off, and sitting well in order smite

The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds

To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths

Of all the western stars, until I die.

It may be that the gulfs will wash us down;

It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,

And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.

Though much is taken, much abides; and though

We are not now that strength which in old days

Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are,

One equal temper of heroic hearts,

Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

 

Until next time –

Rob

 

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