by Sonny Saul
CHAPTER SIXTEEN:
--- --- ---
“There is no art in sailing down the stream. But when heart and destiny hurl us down to the sea’s floor and up into the heavens, that trains the helmsman.”
Holderlin, in a letter, 1798
--- --- ---
The Song of the Earth
Gotama, both shielded and clouded by the aura of his own perceptions, and drawn, increasingly, by the greater specific gravity of a golden white light, which shone internally, gave to Fulfillment’s words his own meaning.
Within him the inertial force of boundless and indescribable thoughts, or rather hieroglyphs of thoughts, propelled by the momentum of his years of ascetic discipline, rose and formed an inclination, and then a resolution..
Fulfillment, divining some sort of a climax, bent her head and smiled questioningly.
They both heard a voice from within Gotama Siddharatha rise and emerge and then fall off so abruptly that Fulfillment knew he would not speak again,
“We limit ourselves,
choosing,
excluding,
including,
saying ‘yes’ or ‘no.’
Finally the peace of unity is there no longer;
the freedom to which we were entitled.” it said.
While she listened to this extraordinary response, and then especially during the silence which ensued, Fulfillment reviewed in her mind all that had passed between them. Had she rushed the tempo? Had he been able to understand her?
It seemed to Fulfillment as if Gotama had listened to and accepted her words completely—taking in their full import. In fact, this powerful receptivity of his had caused her to feel the impact and effect of what she herself had said to such a profound degree that she had then drawn ever more from herself, more than she had ever given before, more than she knew she had to give. The power and effect of her own words had surprised her.
The controlled, intense strength of Gotama’s concentration, the vibrations of which blossomed out in rhythmic reverberation filling the grove, held her there, fascinated. Fulfillment bowed partly out of respect—and instinctively not wanting to disturb him any longer—and, partly, because she felt her performance complete.
Her heart had, right away, sensed the powerful, complementary interplay of his perfect serenity and soulful kindliness. Led by intuition, her intellect now told her that he had attained a supreme detachment, thorough and unprejudiced, not distinguishing between profane and transcendental realities; a level of sanctity at which miracles are possible.
Gotama began a silent soliloquoy which Fulfillment was able to divine.
“Neither herdsman nor deserter…
Running on ahead,
since I have found it,
I’ll show the way.
Free from future and past,
Peace, horror, sadness, shame, honor, bliss,,,
whirling fires of becoming;
an ETERNAL PRESENT too
I’ll leave behind…”
Fulfillment was transfixed. Her total absorption had brought her to a point of identification. But then… suddenly… her senses signaled alarm! She shivered. Was the man seated across from her about to die?
Can anyone imagine something beyond his own experience? My own failure in this regard reminded me of my former inability to grant credibility to the legend of the Orpheus, the Greek who was called the first musician. Such was the mystical/ magical power in his music, totally compelling, overwhelmingly attractive, it is said, that it was able to supersede all other physical forces even to the extent that, of their own accord, objects—rocks and boulders are specifically mentioned—were said to have followed him about to hear; or to somehow participate mystically in the vibrations of his music, which, assumedly, superseded, in a totally compelling, overwhelmingly attractive manner, all other physical forces.
Maybe, just as incredibly, in the legend of Gotama (we can’t yet call him Buddha) a kind of variation or inversion of Orpheus’ case occurred. The golden white whirlpool was about to swallow his non resistant being on the other side of an inner doorway when a weird and lonesome threnody, a so forlorn wail, rose up and out of the Earth. Emanating first from so-called inanimate nature; the dirt, stones, sticks and rocks, it was echoed by the vegetative world.
In just the reverse of Orhpeus’ case, this song of the earth, cutting through the timeless void, reached Gotama and drew him back into himself, seated there in a lotus posture opposite to Fulfillment.
Let’s imagine the end of the scene; the re-animated Gotama Siddhartha, still not the Buddha, full of earthy, freshly realized joy, but also a trace of regret, acknowledges the mystery of what almost happened with a laugh from the belly.
“To explain is to apologize. To live, that’s enough!” he softly and so kindly said to Fulfillment.
Pulling his ankles up higher over his knees, upon his still crossed legs, he touched the Earth as if to invoke a fair witness.
Fulfillment wondered… What had she seen? What had she heard? What had she imagined? Her growing sense that events were taking an unanticipated turn reminded her of the larger ritual and that the next scene would belong to her sister, Regret.
