Leonora Carrington dies on 25th May 2011
Leonora and Max Ernst
Leonora and Max Ernst Sunday 5 June 2011
Pointless
A surprise visit from ML. A conversation with or rather listening to JB. A conversation with ET. All very good for me but has not lifted my mood. I have decided not to go to Art Natters. There was a presentation on developing a website for my art and I am not even close to needing that right now. That decided me not to go. To go to the lengths of forcing myself to be OK enough to sit amongst strangers for something I am not so interested in - seems crazy. So now I ma trying to get down to studying and I just feel hopeless and pointless.
It is very agonising feeling like this and I do not have the out of hours contact number because I forgot to call during office hours and get it.
There doesn't have to be a reason I guess for feeling like this but I cannot see light at the end of the tunnel and wonder what the point is. I cannot be bothered to call out to anyone as to be honest I have nothing to say. I do not understand ho it flits between ups and downs.
I cannot see a point at all.
I will try and study as I find the workings within us so awesome. Maybe that will just keep me focused.
I am wanting something other than what I have but I don't know what it is as there is nothing at all I want.
Bliss
xx
It is very agonising feeling like this and I do not have the out of hours contact number because I forgot to call during office hours and get it.
There doesn't have to be a reason I guess for feeling like this but I cannot see light at the end of the tunnel and wonder what the point is. I cannot be bothered to call out to anyone as to be honest I have nothing to say. I do not understand ho it flits between ups and downs.
I cannot see a point at all.
I will try and study as I find the workings within us so awesome. Maybe that will just keep me focused.
I am wanting something other than what I have but I don't know what it is as there is nothing at all I want.
Bliss
xx
Grieving a person
St Swithin's Day - Billy Bragg
Thinking back now,
I suppose you were just stating your views
What was it all for
For the weather or the battle of agincourt
And the times that we all hoped would last
Like a train they have gone by so fast
And though we stood together
At the edge of the platform
We were not moved by them
With my own hands
When i make love to your memory
It's not the same
I miss the thunder
I miss the rain
And the fact that you don't understand
Casts a shadow over this land
But the sun still shines from behind it.
Thanks all the same
But i just can't bring myself to answer your letters
It's not your fault
But your honesty touches me like a fire
The polaroids that hold us together
Will surely fade away
Like the love that we spoke of forever
On st swithin's day
Thinking back now,
I suppose you were just stating your views
What was it all for
For the weather or the battle of agincourt
And the times that we all hoped would last
Like a train they have gone by so fast
And though we stood together
At the edge of the platform
We were not moved by them
With my own hands
When i make love to your memory
It's not the same
I miss the thunder
I miss the rain
And the fact that you don't understand
Casts a shadow over this land
But the sun still shines from behind it.
Thanks all the same
But i just can't bring myself to answer your letters
It's not your fault
But your honesty touches me like a fire
The polaroids that hold us together
Will surely fade away
Like the love that we spoke of forever
On st swithin's day
Kafka's Monkey - the yoke of humanness
Kathryn Hunter - her story in itself is so sad. She attempted suicide by jumping off a building. But survived, very badly injured. Her body remains badly contorted. As a part of her therapy she discovered a passion for acting and is now world renowned having won awards. SH knows her sister very well and had seen her perform Kafka's Monkey in 2009.
Rotpeter (Red Peter)
Thanks to SH's recommendation I am going to see this next Saturday. Adapted from Franz Kafka's short story A Report to an Academy.
I am just reading the short story now.
The first paragraph is talking about the move from ape to man and how the memories of being an ape are faded memories. My interpretation is the wonder of the ape evolving into man. And this is the story in one being, in one lifetime. What I think too is that I feel sad how the ape saw the evolving as a freedom from the "yoke" of being an ape and yet he was freer in my state of mind today as the ape. Humanness brings about a yoke of consciousness. Is it better to remain unconscious? I suppose if it is not bringing about misery to self or to anyone else then there is no need to change. Kafka's ape must have been needing change.
The translation brings about strong images ..
"To put it plainly, much as I like expressing myself in images, to put it plainly: your life as apes, gentlemen, insofar as something of that kind lies behind you, cannot be farther removed from you than mine is from me. Yet everyone on earth feels a tickling at the heels; the small chimpanzee and the great Achilles alike"
I like this reminder to the "gentleman of the Academy" that they too have an ape within them and the reference to Archilles' heel of course adopted today to express a deadly weakness. A little jibe at mankind? In my view if we could remember that we were animal and once more in tune with the Universe's energy there would be a whole lot less issues amongst us beings sharing this planet. Yet Kafka infers here that the ape man within is viewed as the deadly weakness. The supposed educated man's hidden secret.
Once the handshake meant frankness. IS this a fact? It is new information to me and makes sense. Yet everyone shakes hands these days without giving a though to the meaning. And the ape is now saying that he has words to communicate better his frankness. How man has distorted this and become devious and deceiving to manipulate personal gain. Ha! I laugh at frankness in a handshake but will consider this more next time someone offers me their hand to shake. I will be frank with my handshake. What does being frank mean? Completely honest.
I feel such sadness reading of the ape's capture and imprisonment. If only humans could think of this. I wonder if Pierre Boulle was in anyway inspired by Kafka's ape when he wrote La Planete des singes (1963). Later made into the Hollywood film the Planet of the Apes.
"Hopelessly sobbing, painfully hunting for fleas, apathetically licking a coconut, beating my skull against the locker, sticking out my tongue at anyone who came near me—that was how I filled in time at first in my new life."
Trapped by humans and trapped in a human now .... "Until then I had had so many ways out of everything, and now I had none. I was pinned down. Had I been nailed down, my right to free movement would not have been lessened. .... I had to stop being an ape. A fine, clear train of thought, which I must have constructed somehow with my belly, since apes think with their bellies."
So he gained a sort of freedom by losing his true self. The undermining of self as a compromise to his own freedom he let go of being an ape. A different sort of trapped freedom.
Forgiveness in ignorance or forgiveness? When he talks about his first captors, I read meanness and thoughtlessness. Yet he talks about thankfulness for them. Company? I feel so sad for the ape being confined and alone with no way to feel the freedom, the breeze in his fur.
Resignation or acceptance? He wanted out of this dreaful tight corner and found an inner calm as he perhaps resigned himself to his predicament, accepting that there is a compromise, a way out but that would mean letting go of hope for freedom. This is what I feel is my position. Resignation, accepting a different way forward but not the one I would have wanted. This leaves a sort of death of the soul? No? In my state of mind this is how it appears to me today. I am accepting half measures but I do not know what freredom looks like from within this human or if it possible to find the way back there. This is evolution of me within my lifetime. The path narrows yet I am promised more
"...without the most profound inward calm I could never have found my way out. And indeed perhaps I owe all that I have become to the calm that settled within..."
Again such sadness and utter despair as I read of teh ape mimicking his fellow travellers. Teaching him their ways with such joy. He emulating them and receiving their praise. I can remember overcoming the disgusting taste of rum to emulate my ideas of what seemed like grown-upness. This became my drink and disgust turned to emotional dependency. Oh to return to the freedom of childhood when being was all that mattered. Yet I was being shown distortions at a very young age. So painful and wicked.
"
And so I learned things, gentlemen. Ah, one learns when one has to; one learns when one needs a way out; one learns at all costs. One stands over oneself with a whip; one flays oneself at the slightest opposition. My ape nature fled out of me, head over heels and away, so that my first teacher was almost himself turned into an ape by it, had soon to give up teaching and was taken away to a mental hospital. Fortunately he was soon let out again."
The bewildered look of the half trained ape that he sees in the eyes of others. I feel that myself. More conscious than ever before yet on a path to where? To what? Was it not perhaps better to have been left in blissful freedom. But someone changed that when I was very very young. I had no choice. My pathe from then on was a wobbly one and was suer to reach a point of ensnarement by my seeming choices, only to find that a bigger part had not been freewill. I was enslaved by circumstances at a time when I was wholly dependant and seized by a predetermined genetic dispostiion to addiction. So much to unpick and at times overwhelming. But acceptance is the key. I cannot change a thing. It is all out of my control and so the path of consciousness was brought to me. I am often bewildered, uncertain what to do with my hapf knowledge. It frightens me as there can at times seem only one way out. Not freedom as Rotpeter says. Merely a way out.
"for she has the insane look of the bewildered half-broken animal in her eye; no one else sees it, but I do, and I cannot bear it."
I too can despair at what I witness in human beings ..."It's quite all right. I can tell you what it was. Sometimes I'm overcome with such an aversion to human beings that I can barely refrain from retching. This, of course, has nothing to do with the individual human being, least of all with your charming presence. It concerns all human beings. There's nothing extraordinary about this. Suppose, for instance, that you were to live continuously with apes, you'd probably have similar attacks, however great your self-control. Actually, it's not the smell of human beings that repels me so much, it's the human smell which I have contracted and which mingles with the smell from my native land. Smell for yourself! Here on my chest! Put your nose deeper into the fur! Deeper, I say!"
Kafka was criticised for the state of hoplessness in his writing and compared with existentialist concepts. There is a gloominess for me in my state as I read it today. And yet Buddhists talk about enlightenment with a sense of joy and freedom as a result. Directly contradicting this loss of freedom as a result of awareness.
The reading of the story without exploring what I interpret and feel as a result is extraordinary. I am not sure of the circumstances in Germany at the time he was writing in his magical style. Here in the UK it was Victorian England and of course Albert was surely an influence in the ways of society. So probably it was not dissimilar. I will need to explore German history to have a better understanding. Kafka was Jewish and living in Czechoslavakia. This story gives an impression on a poor view of humanity so I imagine that amidst his middle class family and the societal influences he was trapped.
I will ask ML what she knows of him and also GB and AB. They will surely be able to enlighten me.
I am looking forward to the play at the Young Vic next Saturday. And glad that I am better informed.
Bliss
xxA Report to an Academy
Honored members of the Academy!
You have done me the honor of inviting me to give your Academy an account of the life I formerly led as an ape.
I regret that I cannot comply with your request to the extent you desire. It is now nearly five years since I was an ape, a short space of time, perhaps, according to the calendar, but an infinitely long time to gallop through at full speed, as I have done, more or less accompanied by excellent mentors, good advice, applause, and orchestral music, and yet essentially alone, since all my escorters, to keep the image, kept well off the course. I could never have achieved what I have done had I been stubbornly set on clinging to my origins, to the remembrances of my youth. In fact, to give up being stubborn was the supreme commandment I laid upon myself; free ape as I was, I submitted myself to that yoke. In revenge, however, my memory of the past has closed the door against me more and more. I could have returned at first, had human beings allowed it, through an archway as wide as the span of heaven over the earth, but as I spurred myself on in my forced career, the opening narrowed and shrank behind me; I felt more comfortable in the world of men and fitted it better; the strong wind that blew after me out of my past began to slacken; today it is only a gentle puff of air that plays around my heels; and the opening in the distance, through which it comes and through which I once came myself, has grown so small that, even if my strength and my willpower sufficed to get me back to it, I should have to scrape the very skin from my body to crawl through. To put it plainly, much as I like expressing myself in images, to put it plainly: your life as apes, gentlemen, insofar as something of that kind lies behind you, cannot be farther removed from you than mine is from me. Yet everyone on earth feels a tickling at the heels; the small chimpanzee and the great Achilles alike.
But to a lesser extent I can perhaps meet your demand, and indeed I do so with the greatest pleasure. The first thing I learned was to give a handshake; a handshake betokens frankness; well, today now that I stand at the very peak of my career, I hope to add frankness in words to the frankness of that first handshake. What I have to tell the Academy will contribute nothing essentially new, and will fall far behind what you have asked of me and what with the best will in the world I cannot communicate—nonetheless, it should indicate the line an erstwhile ape has had to follow in entering and establishing himself in the world of men. Yet I could not risk putting into words even such insignificant information as I am going to give you if I were not quite sure of myself and if my position on all the great variety stages of the civilized world had not become quite unassailable.
I belong to the Gold Coast. For the story of my capture I must depend on the evidence of others. A hunting expedition sent out by the firm of Hagenbeck—by the way, I have drunk many a bottle of good red wine since then with the leader of that expedition—had taken up its position in the bushes by the shore when I came down for a drink at evening among a troop of apes. They shot at us; I was the only one that was hit; I was hit in two places.
Once in the cheek; a slight wound; but it left a large, naked, red scar which earned me the name of Red Peter, a horrible name, utterly inappropriate, which only some ape could have thought of, as if the only difference between me and the performing ape Peter, who died not so long ago and had some small local reputation, were the red mark on my cheek. This by the way.
The second shot hit me below the hip. It was a severe wound, it is the cause of my limping a little to this day. I read an article recently by one of the ten thousand windbags who vent themselves concerning me in the newspapers, saying: my ape nature is not yet quite under control; the proof being that when visitors come to see me, I have a predilection for taking down my trousers to show them where the shot went in. The hand which wrote that should have its fingers shot away one by one. As for me, I can take my trousers down before anyone if I like; you would find nothing but a well-groomed fur and the scar made—let me be particular in the choice of a word for this particular purpose, to avoid misunderstanding—the scar made by a wanton shot. Everything is open and aboveboard; there is nothing to conceal; when the plain truth is in question, great minds discard the niceties of refinement. But if the writer of the article were to take down his trousers before a visitor, that would be quite another story, and I will let it stand to his credit that he does not do it. In return, let him leave me alone with his delicacy!
After these two shots I came to myself—and this is where my own memories gradually begin—between decks in the Hagenbeck steamer, inside a cage. It was not a four-sided barred cage; it was only a three-sided cage nailed to a locker; the locker made the fourth side of it. The whole construction was too low for me to stand up in and too narrow to sit down in. So I had to squat with my knees bent and trembling all the time, and also, since probably for a time I wished to see no one, and to stay in the dark, my face was turned toward the locker while the bars of the cage cut into my flesh behind. Such a method of confining wild beasts is supposed to have its advantages during the first days of captivity, and out of my own experiences I cannot deny that from the human point of view this is really the case.
But that did not occur to me then. For the first time in my life I could see no way out; at least no direct way out; directly in front of me was the locker, board fitted close to board. True, there was a gap running right through the boards which I greeted with the blissful howl of ignorance when I first discovered it, but the hole was not even wide enough to stick one's tail through and not all the strength of an ape could enlarge it.
I am supposed to have made uncommonly little noise, as I was later informed, from which the conclusion was drawn that I would either soon die or if I managed to survive the first critical period would be very amenable to training. I did survive this period. Hopelessly sobbing, painfully hunting for fleas, apathetically licking a coconut, beating my skull against the locker, sticking out my tongue at anyone who came near me—that was how I filled in time at first in my new life. But over and above it all only the one feeling: no way out. Of course what I felt then as an ape I can represent now only in human terms, and therefore I misrepresent it, but although I cannot reach back to the truth of the old ape life, there is no doubt that it lies somewhere in the direction I have indicated.
Until then I had had so many ways out of everything, and now I had none. I was pinned down. Had I been nailed down, my right to free movement would not have been lessened. Why so? Scratch your flesh raw between your toes, but you won't find the answer. Press yourself against the bar behind you till it nearly cuts you in two, you won't find the answer. I had no way out but I had to devise one, for without it I could not live. All the time facing that locker—I should certainly have perished. Yet as far as Hagenbeck was concerned, the place for apes was in front of a locker—well then, I had to stop being an ape. A fine, clear train of thought, which I must have constructed somehow with my belly, since apes think with their bellies.
I fear that perhaps you do not quite understand what I mean by "way out." I use the expression in its fullest and most popular sense—I deliberately do not use the word "freedom." I do not mean the spacious feeling of freedom on all sides. As an ape, perhaps, I knew that, and I have met men who yearn for it. But for my part I desired such freedom neither then nor now. In passing: may I say that all too often men are betrayed by the word freedom. And as freedom is counted among the most sublime feelings, so the corresponding disillusionment can be also sublime. In variety theaters I have often watched, before my turn came on, a couple of acrobats performing on trapezes high in the roof. They swung themselves, they rocked to and fro, they sprang into the air, they floated into each other's arms, one hung by the hair from the teeth of the other. "And that too is human freedom," I thought, "self-controlled movement." What a mockery of holy Mother Nature! Were the apes to see such a spectacle, no theater walls could stand the shock of their laughter.
No, freedom was not what I wanted. Only a way out; right or left, or in any direction; I made no other demand; even should the way out prove to be an illusion; the demand was a small one, the disappointment could be no bigger. To get out somewhere, to get out! Only not to stay motionless with raised arms, crushed against a wooden wall.
Today I can see it clearly; without the most profound inward calm I could never have found my way out. And indeed perhaps I owe all that I have become to the calm that settled within me after my first few days in the ship. And again for that calmness it vas the ship's crew I had to thank.
They were good creatures, in spite of everything. I find it still pleasant to remember the sound of their heavy footfalls which used to echo through my half-dreaming head. They had a habit of doing everything as slowly as possible. If one of them wanted to rub his eyes, he lifted a hand as if it were a drooping weight. Their jests were coarse, but hearty. Their laughter had always a gruff bark in it that sounded dangerous but meant nothing. They always had something in their mouths to spit out and did not care where they spat it. They always grumbled that they got fleas from me; yet they were not seriously angry about it, they knew that my fur fostered fleas, and that fleas jump; it was a simple matter of fact to them. When they were off duty some of them often used to sit down in a semicircle around me; they hardly spoke but only grunted to each other; smoked their pipes, stretched out on lockers; smacked their knees as soon as I made one slightest movement; and now and then one of them would take a stick and tickle me where I liked being tickled. If I were to be invited today to take a cruise on that ship I should certainly refuse the invitation, but just as certainly the memories I could recall between its decks would not all be hateful.
The calmness I acquired among these people kept me above all from trying to escape. As I look back now, it seems to me I must have had at least an inkling that I had to find a way out or die, but that my way out could not be reached through flight. I cannot tell now whether escape was possible, but I believe it must have been; for an ape it must always be possible. With my teeth as they are today I have to be careful even in simply cracking nuts, but at that time I could certainly have managed by degrees to bite through the lock of my cage. I did not do it. What good would it have done me? As soon as I had poked out my head I should have been caught again and put in a worse cage; or I might have slipped among the other animals without being noticed, among the pythons, say, who were opposite me, and so breathed out my life in their embrace; or supposing I had actually succeeded in sneaking out as far as the deck and leaping overboard I should have rocked for a little on the deep sea and then been drowned. Desperate remedies. I did not think it out in this human way, but under the influence of my surroundings I acted as if I had thought it out.
I did not think things out; but I observed everything quietly. I watched these men go to and fro, always the same faces, the same movements, often it seemed to me there was only the same man. So this man or these men walked about unimpeded. A lofty goal faintly dawned before me. No one promised me that if I became like them the bars of my cage would be taken away. Such promises for apparently impossible contingencies are not given. But if one achieves the impossible, the promises appear later retrospectively precisely where one had looked in vain for them before. Now, these men in themselves had no great attraction for me. Had I been devoted to the aforementioned idea of freedom, I should certainly have preferred the deep sea to the way out that suggested itself in the heavy faces of these men. At any rate, I watched them for a long time before I even thought of such things, indeed, it was only the mass weight of my observations that impelled me in the right direction.
It was so easy to imitate these people. I learned to spit in the very first days. We used to spit in each other's faces; the only difference was that I licked my face clean afterwards and they did not. I could soon smoke a pipe like an old hand; and if I also pressed my thumb into the bowl of the pipe, a roar of appreciation went up between decks; only it took me a very long time to understand the difference between a full pipe and an empty one.
My worst trouble came from the schnapps bottle. The smell of it revolted me; I forced myself to it as best I could; but it took weeks for me to master my repulsion. This inward conflict, strangely enough, was taken more seriously by the crew than anything else about me. I cannot distinguish the men from each other in my recollection, but there was one of them who came again and again, alone or with friends, by day, by night, at all kinds of hours; he would post himself before me with the bottle and give me instructions. He could not understand me, he wanted to solve the enigma of my being. He would slowly uncork the bottle and then look at me to see if I had followed him; I admit that I always watched him with wildly eager, too eager attention; such a student of humankind no human teacher ever found on earth. After the bottle was uncorked he lifted it to his mouth; I followed it with my eyes right up to his jaws; he would nod, pleased with me, and set the bottle to his lips; I, enchanted with my gradual enlightenment, squealed and scratched myself comprehensively wherever scratching was called for; he rejoiced, tilted the bottle, and took a drink; I, impatient and desperate to emulate him, befouled myself in my cage, which again gave him great satisfaction; and then, holding the bottle at arm's length and bringing it up with a swing, he would empty it at one draught, leaning back at an exaggerated angle for my better instruction. I, exhausted by too much effort, could follow him no farther and hung limply to the bars, while he ended his theoretical exposition by rubbing his belly and grinning.
After theory came practice. Was I not already quite exhausted by my theoretical instruction? Indeed I was; utterly exhausted. That was part of my destiny. And yet I would take hold of the proffered bottle as well as I was able; uncork it, trembling; this successful action would gradually inspire me with new energy; I would lift the bottle, already following my original model almost exactly; put it to my lips and—and then throw it down in disgust, utter disgust, although it was empty and filled only with the smell of the spirit, throw it down on the floor in disgust. To the sorrow of my teacher, to the greater sorrow of myself; neither of us being really comforted by the fact that I did not forget, even though I had thrown away the bottle, to rub my belly most admirably and to grin.
Far too often my lesson ended in that way. And to the credit of my teacher, he was not angry; sometimes indeed he would hold his burning pipe against my fur, until it began to smolder in some place I could not easily reach, but then he would himself extinguish it with his own kind, enormous hand; he was not angry with me, he perceived that we were both fighting on the same side against the nature of apes and that I had the more difficult task.
What a triumph it was then both for him and for me, when one evening before a large circle of spectators—perhaps there was a celebration of some kind, a gramophone was playing, an officer was circulating among the crew—when on this evening, just as no one was looking, I took hold of a schnapps bottle that had been carelessly left standing before my cage, uncorked it in the best style, while the company began to watch me with mounting attention, set it to my lips without hesitation, with no grimace, like a professional drinker, with rolling eyes and full throat, actually and truly drank it empty; then threw the bottle away, not this time in despair but as an artistic performer; forgot, indeed, to rub my belly; but instead of that, because I could not help it, because my senses were reeling, called a brief and unmistakable "Hallo!" breaking into human speech, and with this outburst broke into the human community, and felt its echo: "Listen, he's talking!" like a caress over the whole of my sweat-drenched body.
I repeat: there was no attraction for me in imitating human beings; I imitated them because I needed a way out, and for no other reason. And even that triumph of mine did not achieve much. I lost my human voice again at once; it did not come back for months; my aversion for the schnapps bottle returned again with even greater force. But the line I was to follow had in any case been decided, once for all.
When I was handed over to my first trainer in Hamburg I soon realized that there were two alternatives before me: the Zoological Gardens or the variety stage. I did not hesitate. I said to myself: do your utmost to get onto the variety stage; the Zoological Gardens means only a new cage; once there, you are done for.
And so I learned things, gentlemen. Ah, one learns when one has to; one learns when one needs a way out; one learns at all costs. One stands over oneself with a whip; one flays oneself at the slightest opposition. My ape nature fled out of me, head over heels and away, so that my first teacher was almost himself turned into an ape by it, had soon to give up teaching and was taken away to a mental hospital. Fortunately he was soon let out again.
But I used up many teachers, indeed, several teachers at once. As I became more confident of my abilities, as the public took an interest in my progress and my future began to look bright, I engaged teachers for myself, established them in five communicating rooms, and took lessons from them all at once by dint of leaping from one room to the other.
That progress of mine! How the rays of knowledge penetrated from all sides into my awakening brain! I do not deny it: I found it exhilarating. But I must also confess: I did not overestimate it, not even then, much less now. With an effort which up till now has never been repeated I managed to reach the cultural level of an average European. In itself that might be nothing to speak of, but it is something insofar as it has helped me out of my cage and opened a special way out for me, the way of humanity. There is an excellent idiom: to fight one's way through the thick of things; that is what I have done, I have fought through the thick of things. There was nothing else for me to do, provided always that freedom was not to be my choice.
As I look back over my development and survey what I have achieved so far, I do not complain, but I am not complacent either. With my hands in my trouser pockets, my bottle of wine on the table, I half lie and half sit in my rocking chair and gaze out of the window: if a visitor arrives, I receive him with propriety. My manager sits in the anteroom; when I ring, he comes and listens to what I have to say. Nearly every evening I give a performance, and I have a success that could hardly be increased. When I come home late at night from banquets, from scientific receptions, from social gatherings, there sits waiting for me a half-trained little chimpanzee and I take comfort from her as apes do. By day I cannot bear to see her; for she has the insane look of the bewildered half-broken animal in her eye; no one else sees it, but I do, and I cannot bear it. On the whole, at any rate, I have achieved what I set out to achieve. But do not tell me that it was not worth the trouble. In any case, I am not appealing for any man's verdict, I am only imparting knowledge, I am only making a report. To you also, honored Members of the Academy, I have only made a report.
Translated by Willa and Edwin Muir.
Copyright Schocken Books Inc.
Copyright Schocken Books Inc.
A Report to an Academy: Two Fragments
We all know Rotpeter [Red Peter], just as half the world knows him. But when he came to our town for a guest performance, I decided to get to know him personally. It is not difficult to be admitted. In big cities where everyone in the know clamors to watch celebrities breathe from as close as possible, great difficulties may be encountered; but in our town one is content to marvel at the marvelous from the pit. Thus I was the only one so far, as thc hotel servant told me, to have announced his visit. Herr Busenau, the impresario, received me with extreme courtesy. I had not expected to meet a man so modest, indeed almost timid. He was sitting in the anteroom of Rotpeter's apartment, eating an omelet. Although it was morning he already sat there in the evening clothes in which he appears at the performances. Hardly had he caught sight of me—me the unknown, the unimportant guest—when he, possessor of highly distinguished medals, king of trainers, honorary doctor of great universities, jumped up, shook me by both hands, urged me to sit down, wiped his spoon on the tablecloth, and amiably offered it to me so that I might finish his omelet. He would not accept my grateful refusal and promptly tried to feed me. I had some trouble calming him down and warding him off, as well as his spoon and plate.
"Very kind of you to have come," he said with a strong foreign accent. "Most kind. You've also come at the right time, for alas Rotpeter cannot always receive. Seeing people is often repugnant to him; on these occasions no one, it does not matter who he may be, is admitted; then I, even I can see him only on business, so to speak, on the stage. And immediately after the performance I have to disappear, he drives home alone, locks himself in his room, and usually remains like that until the following evening. He always has a big hamper of fruit in his bedroom, this is what he lives on at these times. But I, who of course dare not let him out of my sight, always rent the apartment opposite his and watch him from behind curtains."
When I sit opposite you like this, Rotpeter, listening to you talk, drinking your health, I really and truly forget—whether you take it as a compliment or not, it's the truth—that you are a chimpanzee. Only gradually, when I have forced myself out of my thoughts back to reality, do my eyes show me again whose guest I am.
Yes.
You're so silent suddenly, I wonder why? Just a moment ago you were pronouncing such astonishingly correct opinions about our town, and now you're so silent.
Silent?
Is something wrong? Shall I call the trainer? Perhaps you're in the habit of taking a meal at this hour?
No, no. It's quite all right. I can tell you what it was. Sometimes I'm overcome with such an aversion to human beings that I can barely refrain from retching. This, of course, has nothing to do with the individual human being, least of all with your charming presence. It concerns all human beings. There's nothing extraordinary about this. Suppose, for instance, that you were to live continuously with apes, you'd probably have similar attacks, however great your self-control. Actually, it's not the smell of human beings that repels me so much, it's the human smell which I have contracted and which mingles with the smell from my native land. Smell for yourself! Here on my chest! Put your nose deeper into the fur! Deeper, I say!
I'm sorry, but I can't smell anything special. Just the ordinary men of a well-groomed body, that's all. The nose of a city-dweller, of course, is no fair test. You, no doubt, can scent thousands of things that evade us.
Once upon a time, sir, once upon a time. That's over.
Since you brought it up yourself, I dare to ask: How long nave you actually been living among us?
Five years. On the fifth of April it will be five years.
Terrific achievement. To cast off apehood in five years and gallop through the whole evolution of mankind! Certainly no one has ever done that before! On this racecourse you have no rival.
It's a great deal, I know, and sometimes it surpasses even my understanding. In tranquil moments, however, I feel less exuberant about it. Do you know how I was caught?
I've read everything that's been printed about you. You were shot at and then caught.
Yes, I was hit twice, once here in the cheek—the wound of course was far larger than the scar you see—and the second time below the hip. I'll take my trousers down so you can see that scar, too. Here then was where the bullet entered; this was the severe, decisive wound. I fell from the tree and when I came to I was in a cage between decks.
In a cage! Between decks! It's one thing to read your story, and quite another to hear you tell it!
And yet another, sir, to have experienced it. Until then I had never known what it means to have no way out. It was not a four-sided barred cage, it had only three sides nailed to a locker, the locker forming the fourth side. The whole contrivance was so low that I could not stand upright, and so narrow that I could not even sit down. All I could do was squat there with bent knees. In my rage I refused to see anyone, and so remained facing the locker; for days and nights I squatted there with trembling knees while behind me the bars cut into my flesh. This manner of confining wild animals is considered to have its advantages during the first days of captivity, and from my experience I cannot deny that from the human point of view this actually is the case. But at that time I was not interested in the human point of view. I had the locker in front of me. Break the boards, bite a hole through them, squeeze yourself through an opening which in reality hardly allows you to see through it and which, when you first discover it, you greet with the blissful howl of ignorance! Where do you want to go? Beyond the boards the forest begins....
Translated by Tania and James Stern.
Copyright Schocken Books Inc.
Copyright Schocken Books Inc.
A flamboyant flurry of red petticoats
Flamboyant outer appearance does not in itself constitute an obstruction to freedom. Having a heart at peace, pure, contained, awake and blameless, distinguishes a noble being.
Dhammapada v.142
Ajahn Munindo says ...
Outer forms are not what really matter. The Buddha always pointed to the heart, the place we need to focus. He emphasized this because we easily forget, becoming too concerned with how things appear. This verse is about an inebriated householder shocked by massive disappointment and despair. The Buddha's teachings, pointing directly at that which really matters, transformed his despair; instead of falling apart, he realised perfect unconditioned peace. When the focus of our practice is merely on forms and appearances, spirit is compromised. Straining too much for the ultimate explanation of the five precepts, for example, may stop us from seeing the intention behind the action. The form of the precepts is there so we become mindful of our motivation. Holding the precepts correctly, there is a chance they will serve their true purpose. Correct living is noble being.
As I was reading this and typing it I truly understand the meaning and would like to work more towards letting go of the need for material things. Although I am less concerned with the outward appearance and by that I don't need to have things to look good in the eyes of other people. I want less belongings right now. Clear space. There are things I enjoy having though, such as my laptop. None of it I need though. I realise that. I want to reduce my material things but haven't had the energy to exert in that direction. Laziness? Yes probably.
Outward appearance though is not just material things and I was thinking about how body image has been such a destroying force in my life. My size can bring on depression. Not wanting to take the Pregabalin has been partially driven by the fact that it increases appetite and weight piles on. I cannot bear the thought of that. I have enough problems with that in recent years with ageing and menopausal or hormonal changes.
Body image and material possessions and two of several outer appearances that can seem to matter so much. To be liked and likable has been so important. Everyone I guess likes to be liked. It is part of survival if we look on an evolutionary perspective. Being a part of is certainly necessary for procreation and within that drives for companionship and looking out for each other have been crucial. I am certain they are life driving forces within us. But that force over years can become distorted. For example I have often thought I am unlikeable. Environmental influences such as my dad favouring clever people has influenced my beliefs. I have in the past been very much in awe of people I consider intelligent but always thought of myself as inferior and unintelligent. I can be disappointed by people though as I discover that they are not perfect in their intelligence. And I have disliked myself too for trying to appear intelligent and in fact not been knowledgeable at all. But too afraid to say I don't know. Again I am better at this and less concerned whether people will see through me. I still nod as if knowing at times and smile at myself inwardly realising I still do it. I know so very little and yet interested in everything. Hence I can never be a knowledge on any particular area. I am spread so thin. At the same time it's wonderful to be inspired by so many things.
These are some examples of out appearance. Yet really I know that what is truly of importance is being able to be loving to all mankind. What I have or know or look like is secondary to what I feel within and the love for others as well as myself. This again is where principles do matter, they come from the soul and to not deceive others, or the be wholesome and so on is all from the heart and soul. This is where I can simply be and be with others how they are being. Love them for who they are. They don't have to have found a way to live by their principles etc for me to be able to love them and I can learn to let go of any dislike in differences. I can love and like though people who are living by purity.
I get it intellectually. Living by it all the time is not as easy. It takes practise and time and mistakes. But more and more I am aware and can adjust back when I realise my mistakes. The thing is I also have emotions which can sometimes cloud the clarity. I keep striving for improvement and awakeness.
:)
The oddest think of all is that despite feeling and understanding as I have been reading and writing, I would today like to not be alive. I cannot see the point. I don't even have a reason to want to be dead. That seems to happen less and less. It's just a matter of wanting to finish now.
I have studying to do which I will attempt to get on with. I would like to attend Art Natters this afternoon or at least have the courage to just get along whether anyone I know is going or not. So I have living plans for today, this week, this month and even this year. Yet I just do not actually want to live beyond today. I do not understand. I feel sad. And a little afraid of myself.
I wonder if this truly is the bi-polar. I want to know more about it. I will attend a group if there is one I can attend.
My cousin is so ill. She is having a scan this week and there is hope from my Auntie that things will have changed for the better. It is purely chemicals they are depending on. My Auntie is not forwarding on any of the things I have discovered for fear of being accused of interfering or upsetting LW.
A nice lazy afternoon and evening with ET. Did swell up at one point and felt very uncomfortable. Today I have a touch of diarrhoea. Odd how I feel quite gleeful. That bulimia thinking is strong. I used to use laxatives to purge my food. Disgusting really. Seems more shameful to me than vomiting. And always used to think I wasn't a proper bulimic because I didn't vomit. So having diarrhoea seems familiar. And having had fish and chips last night after a week of chocolate cake after my birthday, I felt really gleeful. I have been afraid that I have been feeling hormonal and eating more again. Now I am petrified I will not stop. So today is a real effort to stick to a food plan. Breakfast as usual. I think I will take out a soup for this evening. And lunch will be a jacket pot with something from the freezer I think. Not so much veggie today which is not good. I don;t want to go to the supermarket today as I am dodgy around food. I am back to getting in the supermarket and just not knowing what to buy.
It's good to write this as I have not been verbalising it. It's all been in my thinking. I need to tell some friends.
So Uni yesterday was interesting and with only 3 of us there was plenty of time to get some clarity on little processes I was not quite understanding.
The human body is an awesome phenomenon. I really am very pleased to have learnt what I have so far. I am not sure how much I am making psychological connections but there are of course links with behaviour and the debate about nature vs nurture. I have no doubts that it is impossible to separate one from the other although at times certain conditions can be apportioned to a greater or lesser extent in one direction or the other. Huntington's and Lessencephaly are with doubt now conditions wholly genetic. If the gene is there it will manifest in the human being. Other conditions can be therein the genes but only triggered by environmental situations. I do wonder though? Even the genetics could be triggered inutero by the outside world. And that knowledge is just not known yet.
So much is unknown. The hard question of consciousness - still completely unknown. We can know the mechanics but not yet how those turn into thought.
I love the fact that the science has been able to say what is occurring but not how that occurs. For example the fact that ions positive and negative are shifting in and out of very cell and as ongoing and automatic process maintaining a state of cell homeostasis. But how did that happen in the first place? How is that ATP developed without which cells cannot function and would therefore die? This is Universal energy at it's micro sized awe.
Yet with all of this I want to kill this cell I am living in!
About this time last year I was meeting with JH for the first time and falling in love with a man I thought I was getting to know. I feel sad of course that it did not turn out how I was believing it was. It was far from what I thought. At least through communication that became apparent but not before I had given my heart and so fell back broke into a million tiny pieces. I hope that it is possible to truly be loved by someone who truly loves me. Or maybe that is not how it is meant to be. I am no good with no drama. And probably therefore I fall in love with people who are also not OK with no drama. I get bored so would of course be meeting people who would get bored and therefore they will be looking elsewhere to keep from boredom. And I love them all the harder. It's so painful a process.
I don't understand. I wonder if this is linked with the condition of bi-polar too? Probably not.
I feel low. Yet I feel worldly.
Help me
Bliss
XX
Dhammapada v.142
Ajahn Munindo says ...
Outer forms are not what really matter. The Buddha always pointed to the heart, the place we need to focus. He emphasized this because we easily forget, becoming too concerned with how things appear. This verse is about an inebriated householder shocked by massive disappointment and despair. The Buddha's teachings, pointing directly at that which really matters, transformed his despair; instead of falling apart, he realised perfect unconditioned peace. When the focus of our practice is merely on forms and appearances, spirit is compromised. Straining too much for the ultimate explanation of the five precepts, for example, may stop us from seeing the intention behind the action. The form of the precepts is there so we become mindful of our motivation. Holding the precepts correctly, there is a chance they will serve their true purpose. Correct living is noble being.
As I was reading this and typing it I truly understand the meaning and would like to work more towards letting go of the need for material things. Although I am less concerned with the outward appearance and by that I don't need to have things to look good in the eyes of other people. I want less belongings right now. Clear space. There are things I enjoy having though, such as my laptop. None of it I need though. I realise that. I want to reduce my material things but haven't had the energy to exert in that direction. Laziness? Yes probably.
Outward appearance though is not just material things and I was thinking about how body image has been such a destroying force in my life. My size can bring on depression. Not wanting to take the Pregabalin has been partially driven by the fact that it increases appetite and weight piles on. I cannot bear the thought of that. I have enough problems with that in recent years with ageing and menopausal or hormonal changes.
Body image and material possessions and two of several outer appearances that can seem to matter so much. To be liked and likable has been so important. Everyone I guess likes to be liked. It is part of survival if we look on an evolutionary perspective. Being a part of is certainly necessary for procreation and within that drives for companionship and looking out for each other have been crucial. I am certain they are life driving forces within us. But that force over years can become distorted. For example I have often thought I am unlikeable. Environmental influences such as my dad favouring clever people has influenced my beliefs. I have in the past been very much in awe of people I consider intelligent but always thought of myself as inferior and unintelligent. I can be disappointed by people though as I discover that they are not perfect in their intelligence. And I have disliked myself too for trying to appear intelligent and in fact not been knowledgeable at all. But too afraid to say I don't know. Again I am better at this and less concerned whether people will see through me. I still nod as if knowing at times and smile at myself inwardly realising I still do it. I know so very little and yet interested in everything. Hence I can never be a knowledge on any particular area. I am spread so thin. At the same time it's wonderful to be inspired by so many things.
These are some examples of out appearance. Yet really I know that what is truly of importance is being able to be loving to all mankind. What I have or know or look like is secondary to what I feel within and the love for others as well as myself. This again is where principles do matter, they come from the soul and to not deceive others, or the be wholesome and so on is all from the heart and soul. This is where I can simply be and be with others how they are being. Love them for who they are. They don't have to have found a way to live by their principles etc for me to be able to love them and I can learn to let go of any dislike in differences. I can love and like though people who are living by purity.
I get it intellectually. Living by it all the time is not as easy. It takes practise and time and mistakes. But more and more I am aware and can adjust back when I realise my mistakes. The thing is I also have emotions which can sometimes cloud the clarity. I keep striving for improvement and awakeness.
:)
The oddest think of all is that despite feeling and understanding as I have been reading and writing, I would today like to not be alive. I cannot see the point. I don't even have a reason to want to be dead. That seems to happen less and less. It's just a matter of wanting to finish now.
I have studying to do which I will attempt to get on with. I would like to attend Art Natters this afternoon or at least have the courage to just get along whether anyone I know is going or not. So I have living plans for today, this week, this month and even this year. Yet I just do not actually want to live beyond today. I do not understand. I feel sad. And a little afraid of myself.
I wonder if this truly is the bi-polar. I want to know more about it. I will attend a group if there is one I can attend.
My cousin is so ill. She is having a scan this week and there is hope from my Auntie that things will have changed for the better. It is purely chemicals they are depending on. My Auntie is not forwarding on any of the things I have discovered for fear of being accused of interfering or upsetting LW.
A nice lazy afternoon and evening with ET. Did swell up at one point and felt very uncomfortable. Today I have a touch of diarrhoea. Odd how I feel quite gleeful. That bulimia thinking is strong. I used to use laxatives to purge my food. Disgusting really. Seems more shameful to me than vomiting. And always used to think I wasn't a proper bulimic because I didn't vomit. So having diarrhoea seems familiar. And having had fish and chips last night after a week of chocolate cake after my birthday, I felt really gleeful. I have been afraid that I have been feeling hormonal and eating more again. Now I am petrified I will not stop. So today is a real effort to stick to a food plan. Breakfast as usual. I think I will take out a soup for this evening. And lunch will be a jacket pot with something from the freezer I think. Not so much veggie today which is not good. I don;t want to go to the supermarket today as I am dodgy around food. I am back to getting in the supermarket and just not knowing what to buy.
It's good to write this as I have not been verbalising it. It's all been in my thinking. I need to tell some friends.
So Uni yesterday was interesting and with only 3 of us there was plenty of time to get some clarity on little processes I was not quite understanding.
The human body is an awesome phenomenon. I really am very pleased to have learnt what I have so far. I am not sure how much I am making psychological connections but there are of course links with behaviour and the debate about nature vs nurture. I have no doubts that it is impossible to separate one from the other although at times certain conditions can be apportioned to a greater or lesser extent in one direction or the other. Huntington's and Lessencephaly are with doubt now conditions wholly genetic. If the gene is there it will manifest in the human being. Other conditions can be therein the genes but only triggered by environmental situations. I do wonder though? Even the genetics could be triggered inutero by the outside world. And that knowledge is just not known yet.
So much is unknown. The hard question of consciousness - still completely unknown. We can know the mechanics but not yet how those turn into thought.
I love the fact that the science has been able to say what is occurring but not how that occurs. For example the fact that ions positive and negative are shifting in and out of very cell and as ongoing and automatic process maintaining a state of cell homeostasis. But how did that happen in the first place? How is that ATP developed without which cells cannot function and would therefore die? This is Universal energy at it's micro sized awe.
Yet with all of this I want to kill this cell I am living in!
About this time last year I was meeting with JH for the first time and falling in love with a man I thought I was getting to know. I feel sad of course that it did not turn out how I was believing it was. It was far from what I thought. At least through communication that became apparent but not before I had given my heart and so fell back broke into a million tiny pieces. I hope that it is possible to truly be loved by someone who truly loves me. Or maybe that is not how it is meant to be. I am no good with no drama. And probably therefore I fall in love with people who are also not OK with no drama. I get bored so would of course be meeting people who would get bored and therefore they will be looking elsewhere to keep from boredom. And I love them all the harder. It's so painful a process.
I don't understand. I wonder if this is linked with the condition of bi-polar too? Probably not.
I feel low. Yet I feel worldly.
Help me
Bliss
XX
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