Animittavihārī

Attached to Sekha→

Tissa

Thus have I heard. On one occasion the Blessed One was dwelling at Rājagaha on Mount Vulture Peak. Then, when the night had advanced, two deities of stunning beauty, illuminating the entire Vulture Peak, approached the Blessed One, paid homage to him, and stood to one side. One deity then said to the Blessed One: “Bhante, these bhikkhunīs are liberated.”

The other said: “Bhante, these bhikkhunīs are well liberated without residue remaining.”

This is what those deities said. The Teacher agreed. Then, [thinking]: “The Teacher has agreed,” they paid homage to the Blessed One, circumambulated him keeping the right side toward him, and disappeared right there.

Then, when the night had passed, the Blessed One addressed the bhikkhus: “Last night, bhikkhus, when the night had advanced, two deities of stunning beauty, illuminating the entire Vulture Peak, approached me, paid homage to me, and stood to one side. One deity then said to me: ‘Bhante, these bhikkhunīs are liberated.’ And the other said: ‘Bhante, these bhikkhunīs are well liberated without residue remaining.’ This is what those deities said, after which they paid homage to me, circumambulated me keeping the right side toward me, and disappeared right there.”

Now on that occasion the Venerable Mahāmoggallāna was sitting not far from the Blessed One. Then it occurred to the Venerable Mahāmoggallāna: “Which devas know one who has a residue remaining as ‘one with a residue remaining’ and one who has no residue remaining as ‘one without residue remaining’?”

Now at that time a bhikkhu named Tissa had recently died and been reborn in a certain brahmā world. There too they knew him as “the brahmā Tissa, powerful and mighty.” Then, just as a strong man might extend his drawn-in arm or draw in his extended arm, the Venerable Mahāmoggallāna disappeared from Mount Vulture Peak and reappeared in that brahmā world. Having seen the Venerable Mahāmoggallāna coming in the distance, the brahmā Tissa said to him:

“Come, respected Moggallāna! Welcome, respected Moggallāna! It has been long since you took the opportunity to come here. Sit down, respected Moggallāna. This seat has been prepared.” The Venerable Mahāmoggallāna sat down on the prepared seat. The brahmā Tissa then paid homage to the Venerable Mahāmoggallāna and sat down to one side. The Venerable Mahāmoggallāna then said to him:

“Which devas, Tissa, know one who has a residue remaining as ‘one with a residue remaining’ and one who has no residue remaining as ‘one without residue remaining’?”

“The devas of Brahmā’s company have such knowledge, respected Moggallāna.”

“Do all the devas of Brahmā’s company have such knowledge, Tissa?”

“Not all, respected Moggallāna. Those devas of Brahmā’s company who are content with a brahmā’s life span, a brahmā’s beauty, a brahmā’s happiness, a brahmā’s glory, a brahmā’s authority, and who do not understand as it really is an escape higher than this, do not have such knowledge.

“But those devas of Brahmā’s company who are not content with a brahmā’s life span, a brahmā’s beauty, a brahmā’s happiness, a brahmā’s glory, a brahmā’s authority, and who understand as it really is an escape higher than this, know one who has a residue remaining as ‘one with a residue remaining’ and one who has no residue remaining as ‘one without residue remaining.’

“Here, respected Moggallāna, when a bhikkhu is liberated in both respects, those devas know him thus: ‘This venerable one is liberated in both respects. As long as his body stands devas and humans will see him, but with the breakup of the body, devas and humans will see him no more.’ It is in this way that those devas know one who has a residue remaining as ‘one with a residue remaining’ and one who has no residue remaining as ‘one without residue remaining.’

(2) “Then, when a bhikkhu is liberated by wisdom, those devas know him thus: ‘This venerable one is liberated by wisdom. As long as his body stands devas and humans will see him, but with the breakup of the body devas and humans will see him no more.’ It is in this way, too, that those devas know one who has a residue remaining….

(3) “Then, when a bhikkhu is a body witness, those devas know him thus: ‘This venerable one is a body witness. If this venerable one resorts to congenial lodgings, relies on good friends, and harmonizes the spiritual faculties, perhaps he will realize for himself with direct knowledge, in this very life, that unsurpassed consummation of the spiritual life for the sake of which clansmen rightly go forth from the household life into homelessness, and having entered upon it, dwell in it.’ It is in this way, too, that those devas know one who has a residue remaining….

(4) “Then, when a bhikkhu is one attained to view … (5) one liberated by faith … (6) a Dhamma follower, those devas know him thus: ‘This venerable one is a Dhamma follower. If this venerable one resorts to congenial lodgings, relies on good friends, and harmonizes the spiritual faculties, perhaps he will realize for himself with direct knowledge, in this very life, that unsurpassed consummation of the spiritual life for the sake of which clansmen rightly go forth from the household life into homelessness, and having entered upon it, dwell in it.’ It is in this way, too, that those devas know one who has a residue remaining as ‘one with a residue remaining’ and one who has no residue remaining as ‘one without residue remaining.’

Then, having delighted and rejoiced in the words of the brahmā Tissa, just as a strong man might extend his drawn-in arm or draw in his extended arm, the Venerable Mahāmoggallāna disappeared from the brahmā world and reappeared on Vulture Peak. He approached the Blessed One, paid homage to him, sat down to one side, and reported to the Blessed One his entire conversation with the brahmā Tissa.

[The Blessed One said:] “But, Moggallāna, didn’t the brahmā Tissa teach you about the seventh person, the one who dwells in the signless?”

“It is the time for this, Blessed One! It is the time for this, Fortunate One! The Blessed One should teach about the seventh person, the one who dwells in the markless. Having heard it from the Blessed One, the bhikkhus will retain it in mind.”

“Then listen, Moggallāna, and attend closely. I will speak.”

“Yes, Bhante,” the Venerable Mahāmoggallāna replied. The Blessed One said this:

(7) “Here, Moggallāna, through non-attention to all signs, a bhikkhu enters and dwells in the signless mental concentration. Those devas know him thus: ‘Through non-attention to all signs, this venerable one enters and dwells in the signless mental concentration. If this venerable one resorts to congenial lodgings, relies on good friends, and harmonizes the spiritual faculties, perhaps he will realize for himself with direct knowledge, in this very life, that unsurpassed consummation of the spiritual life for the sake of which clansmen rightly go forth from the household life into homelessness,  and having entered upon it, dwell in it.’ It is in this way, too, that those devas know one who has a residue remaining as ‘one with a residue remaining’ and one who has no residue remaining as ‘one without residue remaining.’”
AN 7 : 56

*In the normal sevenfold classification of noble individuals, the seventh individual is the faith follower (saddhānusārī). Here, however, the seventh place is taken by the animittavihārī, “one who dwells in the signless.

Animitta cetosamādhi

In MN 121 animitta cetosamādhi comes after the eight attainments

“Again, Ānanda, a bhikkhu—not attending to the perception of the base of nothingness, not attending to the perception of the base of neither-perception-nor-non-perception—attends to the singleness dependent on the signless concentration of mind. His mind enters into that signless concentration of mind and acquires confidence, steadiness, and resolution.

He understand thus: ‘Whatever disturbances there might be dependent on the perception of the base of nothingness, those are not present here; whatever disturbances there might be dependent on the perception of the base of neither-perception-nor-non-perception, those are not present here. There is present only this amount of disturbance, namely, that connected with the six bases that are dependent on this body and conditioned by life.’ He understands: ‘This field of perception is void of the perception of the base of nothingness; this field of perception is void of the perception of the base of neither-perception-nor-non-perception. There is present only this non-voidness, namely, that connected with the six bases that are dependent on this body and conditioned by life.’ Thus he regards it as void of what is not there, but as to what remains there he understands that which is present thus: ‘This is present.’ Thus, Ānanda, this too is his genuine, undistorted, pure descent into voidness.

“Again, Ānanda, a bhikkhu—not attending to the perception of the base of nothingness, not attending to the perception of the base of neither-perception-nor-non-perception—attends to the singleness dependent on the signless concentration of mind. His mind enters into that signless concentration of mind and acquires confidence, steadiness, and resolution. He understands thus: ‘This signless concentration of mind is determined and intentionally produced. But whatever is determined and intentionally produced is impermanent, subject to cessation.’ When he knows and sees thus, his mind is liberated from the taint of sensual desire, from the taint of being, and from the taint of ignorance. When it is liberated there comes the knowledge: ‘It is liberated.’ He understands: ‘Birth is destroyed, the holy life has been lived, what had to be done has been done, there is no more coming to any state of being.’

While animitta cetosamādhi in this description replaces the attainment of cessation of perception and feeling, it should not be confused with it. Animitta cetosamādhi is not animittā cetovimutti.

Animittā cetovimutti - the signless liberation of mind

“Friend, how many conditions are there for the attainment of the signless liberation of mind?”

“Friend, there are two conditions for the attainment of the signless liberation of mind: non-attention to all signs and attention to the signless element. These are the two conditions for the attainment of the signless liberation of mind.”

“Friend, how many conditions are there for the persistence of the signless liberation of mind?”

“Friend, there are three conditions for the persistence of the signless liberation of mind non-attention to all signs, attention to the signless element, and the prior determination [of its duration]. These are the three conditions for the persistence of the signless liberation of mind.”

“Friend, how many conditions are there for emergence from the signless liberation of mind?”

“Friend, there are two conditions for emergence from the signless liberation of mind: attention to all signs and non-attention to the signless element. These are the two conditions for emergence from the signless liberation of mind.” (...)

“Lust is a maker of signs, hate is a maker of signs, delusion is a maker of signs. In a bhikkhu whose taints are destroyed, these are abandoned, cut off at the root, made like a palm stump, done away with so that they are no longer subject to future arising. Of all the kinds of signless liberation of mind, the unshakeable liberation of mind is pronounced the best. Now that unshakeable deliverance of mind is void of lust, void of hate, void of delusion. MN 43

Animitta cetosamādhi, unlike signless liberation of mind, doesn't guarantee permanent liberation from sensual desire:

“Then, a bhikkhu might say thus: ‘I have developed and cultivated the signless liberation of the mind, made it my vehicle and basis, carried it out, consolidated it, and properly undertaken it, yet my consciousness still follows after signs.’ He should be told: ‘Not so! Do not speak thus. Do not misrepresent the Blessed One; for it is not good to misrepresent the Blessed One. The Blessed One would certainly not speak in such a way. It is impossible and inconceivable, friend, that one might develop and cultivate the signless liberation of the mind, make it one’s vehicle and basis, carry it out, consolidate it, and properly undertake it, yet one’s consciousness could still follow after signs. There is no such possibility. For this, friend, is the escape from all signs, namely, the signless liberation of the mind.’
AN 6 : 13

“Then, friends, through non-attention to all signs, some person enters and dwells in the signless mental concentration. [Thinking,] ‘I am one who gains the signless mental concentration,’ he bonds with [other] bhikkhus, bhikkhunīs, male and female lay followers, kings and royal ministers, sectarian teachers and their disciples. As he bonds with them and becomes intimate with them, as he loosens up and talks with them, lust invades his mind. With his mind invaded by lust, he gives up the training and reverts to the lower life.

“Suppose that a king or royal minister had been traveling along a highway with a four-factored army and set up camp for the night in a forest thicket. Because of the sounds of the elephants, horses, charioteers, and infantry, and the sound and uproar of drums, kettledrums, conches, and tom-toms, the sound of the crickets would disappear. Could one rightly say: ‘Now the sound of the crickets will never reappear in this forest thicket’?”

“Certainly not, friend. For it is possible that the king or royal minister will leave that forest thicket, and then the sound of the crickets will reappear.”

“So too, through non-attention to all signs, some person here enters and dwells in the signless mental concentration. Thinking, ‘I am one who gains the signless mental concentration,’ he bonds with [other] bhikkhus … he gives up the training and reverts to the lower life.”

On a later occasion the Venerable Citta Hatthisāriputta gave up the training and returned to the lower life. AN 6 : 60

Nevertheless signless concentration of mind while it doesn't offer permanent safety from lust is helpful for overcoming lust:

Ānanda

On one occasion the Venerable Ānanda was dwelling at Sāvatthī in Jeta’s Grove, Anāthapiṇḍika’s Park. Then, in the morning, the Venerable Ānanda dressed and, taking bowl and robe, entered Sāvatthī for alms with the Venerable Vaṅgīsa as his companion. Now on that occasion dissatisfaction had arisen in the Venerable Vaṅgīsa; lust had infested his mind. Then the Venerable Vaṅgīsa addressed the Venerable Ānanda in verse:

“I am burning with sensual lust,
My mind is engulfed by fire.
Please tell me how to extinguish it,
Out of compassion, O Gotama."

[The Venerable Ānanda:]
“It is through an inversion of perception
That your mind is engulfed by fire.
Turn away from the sign of beauty
Provocative of sensual lust.

“See determinations as alien,
As suffering, not as self.
Extinguish the great fire of lust;
Don’t burn up again and again.

“Develop the mind on foulness,
One-pointed, well concentrated;
Apply your mindfulness to the body,
Be engrossed in revulsion.

“Develop meditation on the signless,
And discard the tendency to conceit.
Then, by breaking through conceit,
You will be one who fares at peace.”
SN 8 : 4

“There are, bhikkhus, these three kinds of unwholesome thoughts: sensual thought, thought of ill will, thought of harming. And where, bhikkhus, do these three unwholesome thoughts cease without remainder? For one who dwells with a mind well established in the four establishments of mindfulness, or for one who develops the signless concentration. This is reason enough, bhikkhus, to develop the signless concentration. When the signless concentration is developed and cultivated, bhikkhus, it is of great fruit and benefit.

“There are, bhikkhus, these two views: the view of being and the view of not being. Therein, bhikkhus, the instructed noble disciple reflects thus: ‘Is there anything in the world that I could cling to without being blameworthy?’ He understand thus: ‘There is nothing in the world that I could cling to without being blameworthy. For if I should cling, it is only form that I would be clinging to, only feeling … only perception … only determinations… only consciousness that I would be clinging to. With that clinging of mine as condition, there would be existence; with existence as condition, birth; with birth as condition, aging-and-death, sorrow, lamentation, pain, displeasure, and despair would come to be. Such would be the origin of this whole mass of suffering.’ (...) SN 22 : 80

Animitta samādhi, apart protection against lust, seems to offer an escape from the views mentioned above, in which puthujjana is imprisoned (see MN 11).

Cittassa nimittam

‘“One not delighting in solitude could grasp the sign of the mind (cittassa nimittam)”: such a state is not to be found. “One not grasping the sign of the mind could be fulfilled in right view”:
such a state is not to be found. “One not having fulfilled right view could be fulfilled in right concentration”: such a state is not to be found. “One not having fulfilled right concentration could abandon the fetters”: such a state is not to be found. “One not having aban-doned the fetters could realize extinction”: such a state is not to be found.’ AN 6 : 68

Consciousness of puthujjana is firmly established on name-&-matter:

Thus far, Ānanda, may one be born or age or die or fall or arise, thus far is there a way of designation, thus far is there a way of language, thus far is there a way of description, thus far is there a sphere of understanding, thus far the round proceeds as manifestation in a situation,—so far, that is to say, as there is name-&-matter together with consciousness. DN 15

“Friend, these five faculties each have a separate field, a separate domain, and do not experience each other’s field and domain, that is, the eye faculty, the ear faculty, the nose faculty, the tongue faculty, and the body faculty. Now these five faculties, each having a separate field, a separate domain, not experiencing each other’s field and domain, have mind as their resort, and mind experiences their fields and domains.” MN 43

While right view offers perpetual knowledge of what goes beyond name-and-matter,  cittassa nimittam offers temporal freedom from thoughs (“On what basis, Samiddhi, do intentions and thoughts arise in an individual?” "On the basis of name-and-form, Bhante.” AN 9 : 14)  In usual experience mind knows only sensory "data", without knowing its "own nature". Do notice that Sister Vajjira describes sotapatti as "los of dimension of thoughts".

In order to know noble silence, mind has to become silent and recognise what does not belong to sensory experience. As Nisargadatta Maharaj says, when the mind is in its natural state, it reverts to silence spontaneously after every experience or, rather, every experience happens against the background of silence. Cittassa nimittam offers temporary knowledge of such silence, which further can be transformed into perpetual access to such silence by the right view. As soon as one is able to "grasp the sign of the mind" one is able to practice animitta samadhi. That's why Bodhisattva, not being yet ariya, could practice it:

“As I abided thus, diligent, ardent, and resolute, a thought of renunciation arose in me. I understood thus: ‘This thought of renunciation has arisen in me. This does not lead to my own affliction, or to others’ affliction, or to the affliction of both; it aids wisdom, does not cause difficulties, and leads to Nibbāna. If I think and ponder upon this thought even for a night, even for a day, even for a night and day, I see nothing to fear from it. But with excessive thinking and pondering I might tire my body, and when the body is tired, the mind becomes strained, and when the mind is strained, it is far from concentration.’ So I steadied my mind internally, quieted it, brought it to singleness, and concentrated it. Why is that? So that my mind should not be strained.
MN 19

So while animitta samadhi cannot be described as exclusively ariyan practice, it is safe to say that animittavihārī if not ariyan, is at least on the right way to become one. If ariyan, he is on the right way to unshakable liberation of mind.

Freedom from thoughs, while being pleasant in itself is a valuable state supportive of knowledge.

When there is no manifestation of thinking, it is impossible to point out the manifestation of besetment by perceptions and notions [born of] diversification (papañca) MN 18

Thinking being present, desire appears. Thinking not being present, desire does not appear.
DN 21

Undoubtedly reflecting on experience, reflecting on Dhamma is very important aspect of practice. But it should not be taken as universally valid. To claim universal validity of thinking is the very proof that ones own Dhamma thinking went astray. This is not the case with such thinker as Nanavira Thera:

abstraction is a discursive escape from the singularity of the real to the plurality of the imaginary—it is not an escape from the concrete. (This shows the reason for Kierkegaard’s paradox—see Preface ★.) That it is a function of the practice of samādhi to reduce discursive thinking: mindfulness of breathing is particularly recommended—

Mindfulness of breathing should be developed for the cutting-off of thoughts.
(Udàna iv,1 <Ud.37>).

(The fact that almost nothing is said in these Notes about samādhi is due simply to their exclusive concern with right and wrong ditthi, and is absolutely not to be taken as implying that the task of developing samādhi can be dispensed with.)

★ To think existence sub specie æterni and in abstract terms is essentially to abrogate it…. It is impossible to conceive existence without movement, and movement cannot be conceived sub specie æterni.To leave movement out is not precisely a distinguished achievement…. But inasmuch as all thought is eternal, there is here created a difficulty for the existing individual. Existence, like movement, is a difficult category to deal with; for if I think it, I abrogate it, and then I do not think it. It might therefore seem to be the proper thing to say that there is something that cannot be thought, namely, existence. But the difficulty persists, in that existence itself combines thinking with existing, in so far as the thinker exists. Op.cit.,pp.273-4.

Burton - almost too much was contained here in one man

 Burton, despite the plethora of books that have been written either by or about him, still remains beyond the range of ordinary definition. Above all else he was a romantic and an Arabist; he belongs decidedly to that small perennial group of Englishmen and women who are born with something lacking in their lives: a hunger, a nostalgia, that can be sent at rest only in the deserts of the East. Whatever the reason may have been — whether it was a natural revulsion from the narrow horizons and the wet and cloudy climate of England, or from the constricting Victorian code of manners there — it was the tinkling of the camel bell that beckoned him until the day he died. And yet with all his amazing concentration and intelligence he remains an amateur of the Islamic world, a devoted dilettante, more Arab than the Arabs, but never absolutely one of them. He returns to the East again and again like a migratory bird, never at peace when he is away, yet never able to stay for long without succumbing to an overmastering restlessness. There are moments in his career when it seems that nothing in the world can appease his almost insane hunger for fulfilment and excitement. Wilfrid Scawen Blunt remembers meeting Burton once in Buenos Aires at the end of one of his debauches, when he reappeared collarless and in filthy clothes. He had, Blunt says, ‘a countenance the most sinister I have ever seen, dark, cruel, treacherous, with eyes like a wild beast’. It was his eyes — the ‘questing panther eyes’ — that everyone remembered. Swinburne, who knew him well, speaks of ‘the look of unspeakable horror in those eyes which gave him at times an almost unearthly appearance’. ‘He had,’ the poet adds, ‘the brow of a god and the jaw of a devil.’ Burton’s wife, who was certainly not one to criticize, describes him as being five feet eleven inches tall, and muscular, with very dark hair, a weather-beaten complexion, an enormous black moustache, large, black, flashing eyes, long lashes, and a fierce, proud, melancholy expression.

Yet beneath all this drama Burton was an intensely fastidious and scholarly man. No one else has chronicled a journey through Africa with such erudition as he has. Nothing is beyond his observation : the languages and customs of the tribes, the geography of the land, its botany, geology, and meteorology, even the statistics of the import and export trade at Zanzibar. No other explorer had such a breadth of reference, or had read so much or could write so well; none certainly was graced with such a touch of sardonic humour. His Lake Regions of Central Africa remains, possibly, not only his best book but also, in a field of writing that was remarkably good, one of the best explorer’s journals ever written.

At this time he was just thirty-six years of age, and we are not here concerned with the second half of his life, with all its tumultuous journeys, its quarrels and humiliations, its fantastic outpourings of books and translations, which in the end, with the publication of his Thousand Nights and One Night and other Eastern erotica, were to earn for him the reputation of being a sort of intellectual rake.

Yet at thirty-six he was already a famous man, though not a very popular one. After an education in France and Italy and at Oxford he had served seven years in the Indian Army, had made his famous journey to Mecca and a second hardly less perilous expedition to the forbidden city of Harar in Abyssinia, and had written his books about these adventures. Never at any point in his army career in India had he proceeded in a normal, orthodox way; his way was through the interior lines and the endless subtleties and aberrations of Eastern life. He was forever disguising himself in Eastern clothes, even dyeing his face and hands, and visiting low bazaars which would have been extremely distasteful to the ordinary British officer. In consequence he knew a great deal more about Indians and their way of life than the authorities cared to know. They were no more amused by his account of vice in Karachi than by his prediction that the Indian army was on the point of mutiny. As an officer he was irascible, impatient of discipline, and highly critical of his colleagues. Yet he was not altogether to be dismissed as just another British eccentric, for he was a swordsman of note, he was incontestably brave, and in his command of languages and dialects there had been few to equal him. It was said that he had discovered a system by which in two months he could learn a new language, and at the end of his life he was believed to speak and write no less than twenty-nine. At one stage he lived with thirty monkeys in order to study the noises they made, and he even succeeded in putting together a short monkey-vocabulary.

Almost too much was contained here in one man. Had he been of a sedentary disposition no doubt his life would have been easier, but there was something in his nature — perhaps inherited from his Irish parentage — that constantly drove him towards the most outlandish places and the most difficult adventures. One has the feeling that he lived in a state of continual conflict within himself, the intellectual warring with the man of action, the methodical scholar grating against the poet and the romantic, the fastidious hypochondriac fighting a losing battle with the libertine. But then he recoils from his own unorthodoxy and struggles back to a respectable show of things; and it was in one such recoil that, just before the opening of this new African adventure, he entered into an engagement of marriage with the doting and carefully nurtured Isabel Arundell, in England. Having become engaged to her, however, he at once abandoned her — a thing he was to do again more than once in the long married life that lay before them — and now he had involved himself in another relationship which was even more singular. That this brilliant, courageous, highly-strung adventurer should have adopted as his close companion a man who was so complete an opposite as John Hanning Speke is, surely, as ironic a phenomenon as anything Cervantes contrived with his Don Quixote and Sancho Panza.

Not that Speke was in any way servile to Burton. Indeed, he was the very reverse, and this in the end was to be Burton’s undoing. Burton needed a disciple and instead he got a rival. Speke was thirty, some six years younger than Burton, and although a story was put about at one time that he was an Anglo-Indian with mixed blood there was no truth in it; he came from a West Country family that dated back to Saxon times. He was tall and slender and his blue eyes and fair hair gave him rather a Scandinavian appearance. Moreover he looked after himself; he ate a great deal but drank very little and never smoked. The ordinary relaxations and dissipations of a young man of his age were not for Speke; his life was in the open air, and to fit himself for that life he was prepared to go to great lengths. Once in Africa he even discarded his boots and walked barefoot so as to toughen himself. He planned ahead, he set himself definite objectives, and having once made up his mind he proceeded with great prudence and determination. In short, he measured up very well to the Victorian notion of what a young man ought to be: steady, abstemious, methodical in his habits, and respectable. But he was not entirely humourless and he had the gift of friendship. Underneath that cool and rather prosaic exterior there was a certain charm. Even Burton was prepared to admit this, though as is usual with most of Burton’s judgements of people, his summing up of Speke carried a violent sting in the tail. He wrote:

To a peculiarly quiet and modest aspect — aided by blue eyes and blond hair — to a gentleness of demeanour, and an almost childlike simplicity of manner which at once attracted attention, he united an immense fund of self-esteem, so carefully concealed, however, that none but his intimates suspected its existence.

Alan Moorehead

The White Nile 

Tesla - nothing but a broken-down old man now, a bum

 “I first saw Tesla in 1893. I was just a boy then, but I remember the date well. It was the Columbian Exposition in Chicago, and my father took me there on a train, it was the first time I’d ever been away from home. The idea was to celebrate the four hundredth anniversary of Columbus’s discovery of America. Bring out all the gadgets and inventions and show them how clever our scientists were. Twenty-five million people came to see it, it was like going to the circus. They showed the first zipper there, the first Ferris wheel, all the wonders of the new age. Tesla was in charge of the Westinghouse exhibit, they called it the Egg of Columbus,  and I remember walking into the theater and seeing this tall man dressed in a white tuxedo, standing up there on stage and talking to the audience in some peculiar accent—Serbian, as it turned out—and a more lugubrious voice you will never hear. He performed magic tricks with electricity, spinning little metal eggs around the table, shooting sparks out of his fingertips, and everyone kept gasping at what he did, myself included, we’d never seen anything like it. Those were the days of the AC-DC wars between Edison and Westinghouse, and Tesla’s show had a certain propaganda value. Tesla had discovered alternating current about ten years before—the rotating magnetic field—and it was a big advance over the direct current that Edison had been using. Much more powerful. Direct current needed a generating station every mile or two; with alternating current, a single station was enough for a whole city. When Tesla came to America, he tried to sell his idea to Edison, but the asshole in Menlo Park turned him down. He thought it would make his lightbulb obsolete. There you are again, the goddamned lightbulb. So Tesla sold his alternating current to Westinghouse, and they went ahead and started to build the generating plant at Niagara Falls, the largest power station in the country. Edison went on the attack. Alternating current is too dangerous, he said, it will kill you if you get close to it. To prove his point, he sent his men around the country to give demonstrations at state and county fairs. I saw one of them myself when I was just a wee little thing, it made me piss in my pants. They’d bring up animals onto the stage and electrocute them. Dogs, pigs, even cows. They’d kill them copy before your eyes. That’s how the electric chair got invented. Edison cooked it up to show the dangers of alternating current, and then he sold it to Sing Sing prison, where they’re still using it to this day. Lovely, isn’t it? If the world weren’t such a beautiful place, we might all turn into cynics.

“The Egg of Columbus put an end to all the controversy. Too many people saw Tesla, and they weren’t afraid anymore. The man was a lunatic, of course, but at least he wasn’t in it for the  money. A few years later, Westinghouse was in financial trouble, and Tesla tore up his royalty agreement with him as a gesture of friendship. Millions and millions of dollars. He just tore it up and went on to something else. It goes without saying that he eventually died broke.

“Now that I’d seen him, I began following Tesla in the papers. They wrote about him all the time back then, reporting on his new inventions, quoting the outlandish things he used to say to anyone who would listen. He was good copy. An ageless ghoul who lived alone in the Waldorf: morbidly afraid of germs, paralyzed by every kind of phobia, subject to fits of hypersensitivity that nearly drove him mad. A fly buzzing in the next room sounded like a squadron of planes to him. If he walked under a bridge, he could feel it pressing against his skull, as though it was about to crush him. He had his laboratory in lower Manhattan, West Broadway, I think it was, West Broadway and Grand. God knows what he didn’t invent in that place. Radio tubes, remote-control torpedoes, a plan for electricity without wires. That’s copy, no wires. You’d plant a metal rod in the ground and suck the energy copy out of the air. Once, he claimed to have built a sound-wave device that funneled the pulses of the earth into a tiny, concentrated point. He pressed it against the wall of a building on Broadway, and within five minutes the whole structure started to shake, it would have tumbled down if he hadn’t stopped. I loved reading about that stuff when I was a boy, my head was filled with it. People made all sorts of speculations about Tesla. He was like some prophet of the future age, and no one could resist him. The total conquest of nature! A world in which every dream was possible! The most outrageous bit of nonsense came from a man named Julian Hawthorne, who happened to be the son of Nathaniel Hawthorne, the great American writer. Julian. That was my name, too, if you’ll remember, and so I followed the younger Hawthorne’s work with a certain degree of personal interest. He was a popular writer of the day, a genuine hack who wrote as badly as his father wrote well. A wretched human being. Imagine growing up with Melville  and Emerson around the house and turning out like that. He wrote fifty-some books, hundreds of magazine articles, all of it trash. At one point he even wound up in jail for some kind of stock fraud, swindling the revenue men, I forget the details. At any rate, this Julian Hawthorne was a friend of Tesla’s. In 1899, maybe 1900, Tesla went out to Colorado Springs and set up a laboratory in the mountains to study the effects of ball lightning. One night, he was working late and forgot to turn off the receiver. Strange noises started coming through the machine. Static, radio signals, who knows what. When Tesla told the story to reporters the next day, he claimed this proved there was intelligent life in outer space, that the bloody Martians had been talking to him. Believe it or not, no one laughed at what he said. Lord Kelvin himself, drunk in his cups at some banquet, declared it to be one of the major scientific breakthroughs of all time. Not long after this incident, Julian Hawthorne wrote an article about Tesla in one of the national magazines. Tesla’s mind was so advanced, he said, it wasn’t possible that he could be human. He had been born on another planet—Venus, I think it was supposed to be—and had been sent to Earth on a special mission to teach us the secrets of nature, to reveal the ways of God to man. Again, you’d think that people would have laughed, but that’s not what happened at all. A lot of them took it seriously, and even now, sixty, seventy years later, there are thousands who still believe it. There’s a cult out in California today that worships Tesla as an extraterrestrial. You don’t have to take my word for it. I’ve got some of their literature in the house, and you can see for yourself. Pavel Shum used to read it to me on rainy days. It’s riotous stuff. Makes you laugh so hard, you think your belly’s going to split in two.

“I mention all this to give you an idea of what it was like for me. Tesla wasn’t just anyone, and when he came to build his tower in Shoreham, I couldn’t believe my luck. Here was the great man himself, coming to my little town every week. I used to watch him get off the train, thinking maybe I could learn something by watching him, that just getting close to him would contaminate  me with his brilliance—as though it was some kind of disease you could catch. I never had the courage to talk to him, but that didn’t matter. It inspired me to know that he was there, to know that I could get a glimpse of him whenever I wanted. Once, our eyes met, I remember that well, it was very important, our eyes met and I could feel him looking copy through me, as though I didn’t exist. It was an incredible moment. I could feel his glance going through my eyes and out the back of my head, sizzling up the brain in my skull and turning it into a pile of ashes. For the first time in my life, I realized that I was nothing, absolutely nothing. No, it didn’t upset me in the way you might think. It stunned me at first, but once the shock began to wear off, I felt invigorated by it, as though I had managed to survive my own death. No, that’s not it, not exactly. I was only seventeen years old, hardly more than a boy. When Tesla’s eyes went through me, I experienced my first taste of death. That’s closer to what I mean. I felt the taste of mortality in my mouth, and at that moment I understood that I was not going to live forever. It takes a long time to learn that, but when you finally do, everything changes inside you, you can never be the same again. I was seventeen years old, and all of a sudden, without the slightest flicker of a doubt, I understood that my life was my own, that it belonged to me and no one else.

“I’m talking about freedom, Fogg. A sense of despair that becomes so great, so crushing, so catastrophic, that you have no choice but to be liberated by it. That’s the only choice, or else you crawl into a corner and die. Tesla gave me my death, and at that moment I knew that I was going to become a painter. That’s what I wanted, but until then I hadn’t had the balls to admit it. My father was all stocks and bonds, a fucking tycoon, he took me for some kind of pansy. But I went ahead and did it, I became an artist, and then, just a few years later, the old man dropped dead in his office on Wall Street. I was twenty-two or -three then, and I wound up inheriting all his money, I got every cent of it. Ha! I was the richest goddamned painter there ever was. A millionaire  artist. Just think of it, Fogg. I was the same age you are now, and I had everything, every goddamned thing I wanted.

“I saw Tesla again, but that was later, much later. After my disappearance, after my death, after I left America and came back. Nineteen thirty-nine, nineteen forty. I got out of France with Pavel Shum before the Germans marched in, we packed up our bags and left. It was no place for us anymore, no place for a crippled American and a Russian poet, it didn’t make sense to be there. We thought about Argentina at first, but then I thought what the hell, it might get the juices flowing to see New York again. It had been twenty years, after all. The World’s Fair had just started when we arrived. Another hymn to progress, but it didn’t do much for me this time, not after what I’d seen in Europe. It was all a sham. Progress was going to blow us up, any jackass could tell you that. You should meet Mrs. Hume’s brother some time, Charlie Bacon. He was a pilot during the war. They had him out in Utah towards the end, training with that bunch that dropped the A-bomb on Japan. He lost his mind when he found out what was going on. The poor wretch, who can blame him? There’s progress for you. A bigger and better mousetrap every month. Pretty soon, we’ll be able to kill all the mice at the same time.

“I was back in New York, and Pavel and I started taking walks around the city. The same as we do now, pushing the wheelchair, pausing to look at things, but much longer, we’d keep going for the whole day. It was the first time Pavel had been in New York, and I showed him the sights, wandering from neighborhood to neighborhood, trying to reacquaint myself with it in the process. One day in the summer of thirty-nine, we visited the Public Library at Forty-second and Fifth, then stopped for a breather in Bryant Park. That’s when I saw Tesla again. Pavel was sitting on a bench beside me, and just ten or twelve feet away from us there was this old man feeding the pigeons. He was standing up, and the birds were fluttering all around him, landing on his head and arms, dozens of cooing pigeons, shitting on his clothes and eating out  of his hands, and the old man kept talking to them, calling the birds his darlings, his sweethearts, his angels. The moment I heard that voice, I knew it was Tesla, and then he turned his face in my direction, and there he was. An eighty-year-old man. Spectral white, thin, as ugly to look at as I am now. I wanted to laugh when I saw him. The one-time genius from outer space, the hero of my youth. He was nothing but a broken-down old man now, a bum. You’re Nikola Tesla, I said to him. Just like that, I didn’t stand on formality. You’re Nikola Tesla, I said, I used to know you. He smiled at me and made a little bow. I’m busy at the moment, he said, perhaps we can talk some other time. I turned to Pavel and said, Give Mr. Tesla some money, Pavel, he can probably use it to buy more birdseed. Pavel stood up, walked over to Tesla, and held out a ten-dollar bill to him. It was a moment for the ages, Fogg, a moment that can never be equaled. Ha! I’ll never forget the confusion in that son of a bitch’s eyes. Mr. Tomorrow, the prophet of a new world! Pavel held out the ten-dollar bill to him, and I could see him struggling to ignore it, to tear his eyes away from the money—but he couldn’t do it. He just stood there, staring at it like some insane beggar. And then he took the money, just snatched it out of Pavel’s hand and shoved it into his pocket. That’s very kind of you, he said to me, very kind. The little darlings need every morsel they can get. Then he turned his back to us and muttered something to the birds. Pavel wheeled me away at that point, and that was the end of it. I never saw him again.”

From: Moon Palace

Paul Auster

Suttas on women

“Be patient, Venerable Kassapa, women are foolish.”
Ven Ananda SN 16 : 10

“If one could rightly say of anything that it is entirely a snare of Māra, it is precisely of women that one might say this.” AN 5 : 55

“Bhikkhus, women die unsatisfied and discontent in two things. What two? Sexual intercourse and giving birth. Women die unsatisfied and discontent in these two things.”
AN 2 : 62

Kamboja

On one occasion the Blessed One was dwelling at Kosambī in Ghosita’s Park. Then the Venerable Ānanda approached the Blessed One, paid homage to him, sat down to one side, and said:
“Bhante, why is it that women do not sit in council, or engage in business, or go to Kamboja?”
“Ānanda, women are prone to anger; women are envious; women are miserly; women are unwise. This is why women do not sit in council, engage in business, or go to Kamboja.”
AN 2 : 62

Snake (1)

“Bhikkhus, there are these five dangers in a black snake. What five? It is impure, foul-smelling, frightening, dangerous, and it betrays friends. These are the five dangers in a black snake. So too, there are these five dangers in women. What five? They are impure, foul-smelling, frightening, dangerous, and they betray friends. These are the five dangers in women.”

230 (10) Snake (2)

“Bhikkhus, there are these five dangers in a black snake. What five? It is wrathful, hostile, of virulent venom, double-tongued, and it betrays friends. These are the five dangers in a black snake. So too, there are these five dangers in women. What five? They are wrathful, hostile, of virulent venom, double-tongued, and they betray friends.

“Bhikkhus, this is how women are of virulent venom: for the most part they have strong lust. This is how women are double-tongued: for the most part they utter divisive speech. This is how women betray friends: for the most part they are adulterous. These are the five dangers in women.” AN 5 : 229/30

The Blessed One then said to those girls:

(1) “So then, girls, you should train yourselves thus: ‘To whichever husband our parents give us—doing so out of a desire for our good, seeking our welfare, taking compassion on us, acting out of compassion for us—we will rise before him and retire after him, undertaking whatever needs to be done, agreeable in our conduct and pleasing in our speech.’ Thus should you train yourselves.

(2) “And you should train yourselves thus: ‘We will honor, respect, esteem, and venerate those whom our husband respects—his mother and father, ascetics and brahmins—and when they arrive we will offer them a seat and water.’ Thus should you train yourselves.

(3) “And you should train yourselves thus: ‘We will be skillful and diligent in attending to our husband’s domestic chores, whether knitting or weaving; we will possess sound judgment about them in order to carry out and arrange them properly.’ Thus should you train yourselves.

(4) “And you should train yourselves thus: ‘We will find out what our husband’s domestic helpers—whether slaves, messengers, or [38] workers—have done and left undone; we will find out the condition of those who are ill; and we will distribute to each an appropriate portion of food.’ Thus should you train yourselves.

(5) “And you should train yourselves thus: ‘We will guard and protect whatever income our husband brings home—whether money or grain, silver or gold—and we will not be spendthrifts, thieves, wastrels, or squanderers of his earnings.’ Thus should you train yourselves.

“When, girls, a woman possesses these five qualities, with the breakup of the body, after death, she is reborn in companionship with the agreeable-bodied devas.”

She does not despise her husband,
the man who constantly supports her,
who ardently and eagerly
always brings her whatever she wants.
Nor does a good woman scold her husband
with speech caused by jealousy;1010
the wise woman shows veneration
to all those whom her husband reveres.
She rises early, works diligently,
manages the domestic help;
she treats her husband in agreeable ways
and safeguards the wealth he earns.

2

The woman who fulfills her duties thus,
following her husband’s will and wishes,
is reborn among the devas
called “the agreeable ones.”
AN 5 : 33

“Visākhā, possessing four qualities, a woman is heading for victory in the present world and her life in this world succeeds.1724 What four? Here, a woman is capable at her work; she manages the domestic help; she behaves agreeably to her husband; and she safeguards his earnings.

(1) “And how, Visākhā, is a woman capable at her work? Here, a woman is skillful and diligent in attending to her husband’s domestic chores, whether knitting or weaving; she possesses sound judgment about them in order to carry out and arrange them properly. It is in this way that a woman [270] is capable at her work.

(2) “And how does a woman manage the domestic help? Here, a woman finds out what her husband’s domestic helpers—whether slaves, messengers, or workers—have done and left undone; she finds out the condition of those who are ill; and she distributes to each an appropriate portion of food. It is in this way that a woman manages the domestic help.

(3) “And how does a woman behave agreeably to her husband? Here, a woman would not commit any misdeed that her husband would consider disagreeable, even at the cost of her life. It is in this way that a woman behaves agreeably to her husband.

(4) “And how does a woman safeguard his earnings? Here, a woman guards and protects whatever income her husband brings home—whether money or grain, silver or gold—and she is not a spendthrift, thief, wastrel, or squanderer of his earnings. It is in this way that a woman safeguards his earnings.

“Possessing these four qualities, a woman is heading for victory in the present world and her life in this world succeeds.

“Possessing four [other] qualities, Visākhā, a woman is heading for victory in the other world and her life in the other world succeeds. What four? Here, a woman is accomplished in faith, accomplished in virtuous behavior, accomplished in generosity, and accomplished in wisdom.

(5) “And how, Visākhā, is a woman accomplished in faith? Here, a woman is endowed with faith. She places faith in the enlightenment of the Tathāgata thus: ‘The Blessed One is an arahant, perfectly enlightened, accomplished in true knowledge and conduct, fortunate, knower of the world, unsurpassed trainer of persons to be tamed, teacher of devas and humans, the Enlightened One, the Blessed One.’ It is in this way that a woman is accomplished in faith.

(6) “And how is a woman accomplished in virtuous behavior? [271] Here, a woman abstains from the destruction of life … from liquor, wine, and intoxicants, the basis for heedlessness. It is in this way that a woman is accomplished in virtuous behavior.

(7) “And how is a woman accomplished in generosity? Here, a woman dwells at home with a heart devoid of the stain of miserliness, freely generous, openhanded, delighting in relinquishment, devoted to charity, delighting in giving and sharing. It is in this way that a woman is accomplished in generosity.

(8) “And how is a woman accomplished in wisdom? Here, a woman is wise; she possesses the wisdom that discerns arising and passing away, which is noble and penetrative and leads to the complete destruction of suffering. It is in this way that a woman is accomplished in wisdom.

“Possessing these four qualities, Visākhā, a woman is heading for victory in the other world and her life in the other world succeeds.”

Capable in attending to her work,
managing the domestic help,
she treats her husband in agreeable ways
and safeguards the wealth he earns.
Rich in faith, possessed of virtue,
charitable and devoid of miserliness,
she constantly purifies the path
that leads to safety in the future life.
They call any woman
who has these eight qualities,
virtuous, firm in Dhamma,
a speaker of truth.
Accomplished in sixteen aspects,1726
complete in eight factors,
such a virtuous female lay follower
is reborn in an agreeable deva world.
AN 8: 49

Peculiar

“Bhikkhus, there are five kinds of suffering peculiar to women, which women experience but not men. What five?

“Here, bhikkhus, even when young, a woman goes to live with her husband’s family and is separated from her relatives. This is the first kind of suffering peculiar to women….
“Again, a woman is subject to menstruation. This is the second kind of suffering peculiar to women….
“Again, a woman becomes pregnant. This is the third kind of suffering peculiar to women….
“Again, a woman gives birth. This is the fourth kind of suffering peculiar to women….
“Again, a woman is made to serve a man. This is the fifth kind of suffering peculiar to women….
“These, bhikkhus, are the five kinds of suffering peculiar to women, which women experience but not men.”

Three Qualities

“Bhikkhus, when a woman possesses three qualities, with the breakup of the body, after death, she is generally reborn in a state of misery, in a bad destination, in the nether world, in hell. What are the three? Here, bhikkhus, in the morning a woman dwells at home with her heart obsessed by the taint of selfishness; at noon she dwells at home with her heart obsessed by envy; in the evening she dwells at home with her heart obsessed by sensual lust. When a woman possesses these three qualities … she is generally reborn in a state of misery … in hell.”

SN 37 : 3/4

Confident

“Bhikkhus, there are five powers of a woman. What are the five? The power of beauty, the power of wealth, the power of relatives, the power of sons, the power of virtue. These are the five powers of a woman. When a woman possesses these five powers, she dwells confident at home.”

Having Won Over /
“Bhikkhus, there are five powers of a woman…. (as above ) ... When a woman possesses these five powers, she dwells at home having won over her husband.” / with her husband under her control.

One

“Bhikkhus, when a man possesses one power, he abides with a woman under his control. What is that one power? The power of authority. When a woman has been overcome by the power of authority, neither the power of beauty can rescue her, nor the power of wealth, nor the power of relatives, nor the power of sons, nor the power of virtue.”

“Bhikkhus, it is not because of the power of beauty, or the power of wealth, or the power of relatives, or the power of sons, that with the breakup of the body, after death, a woman is reborn in a good destination, in a heavenly world. It is because of the power of virtue that a woman is reborn in a good destination, in a heavenly world.
SN 37 : 25 - 28 ; 31

Eight capital points for bhikkhunis

These are the eight points. A bhikkhuni who has been admitted even a hundred years must pay homage to, get up for, reverentially salute, and respectfully greet, a bhikkhu admitted that day. A bhikkhuni must not spend the rains in a place where there are no bhikkhus. Every half-month a bhik-khuni should expect two things from the Sangha of bhikkhus; the appointment of the Uposatha day of observance each half-month, and a visit for exhortation. At the end of the rains a bhikkhuni must invite criticism of both Sanghas in the three instances, that is, whether anything improper in her conduct has been seen, heard or suspected. When a bhikkhuni has committed a grave offence, she must do the penance before both Sanghas. A probationer who seeks admission must do so from both Sanghas and after training in the six things for two years. A bhikkhuni must not find fault with or abuse a bhikkhu in any manner at all. From today onwards it is not allowed for bhikkhunis to address discourses to bhikkhus, but it is allowed for bhikkhus to address bhikkhunis. These eight things are to be honoured, respected, revered and venerated, and they are not to be transgressed as long as life lasts. If Mahāpajāpati Gotami accepts these eight capital points, that will count as her full admission.’

(...)

Ānanda, if women had not obtained the going forth from the house life into homelessness in the Dhamma and Discipline declared by the Perfect One, the holy life would have lasted long, the holy life would have lasted a thousand years. But now, since women have obtained it, the holy life will not last long, the holy life will last only five hundred years.

“Just as clans with many women and few men are easily ruined by robbers and bandits, so too in the Dhamma and Discipline in which women obtain the going forth the holy life does not last long. Just as when the blight called gray mildew falls on a field of ripening rice, that field of ripening rice does not last long—just as when the blight called red rust falls on a field of ripening sug-arcane, that field of ripening sugarcane does not last long—so too in the Dhamma and Discipline in which women obtain the going forth the holy life does not last long. As a man might construct in advance an embankment so that the waters of a great reservoir should not cause a flood, so I too have made known in advance these eight capital points for bhikkhunis not to be transgressed as long as life lasts.”

Vin. Cv. 10:1; A. 8:51

Aphorisms from Lichtenberg Philosophical Writings

When we teach men how they should think and not always what they should think, we avoid much misunderstanding. It is a kind of initiation into the mysteries of mankind. Whoever stumbles upon a peculiar proposition in his own thinking will readily depart with it if it is false. A peculiar proposition taught by a respected man, however, may mislead thousands who do not examine it. One cannot be cautious enough in disclosing one's own opinions in matters of life and felicity and not diligent enough in inculcating understanding and doubt. To this belongs Bolingbroke's statement, “Every man's reason is every man's oracle.”
Doubt must be no more than vigilance; otherwise it can become dangerous.

Man has an irresistible instinct to believe he is not seen when he himself sees nothing, like children who shut their eyes in order not to be seen.

A clever child raised with a foolish one can itself become foolish. Man is so perfectible and corruptible that he can become a fool through reason.

In past times, when the soul was still immortal.

All impartiality is artificial. Man is always partial and is quite right to be. Even impartiality is partial. He belonged to the party of the impartial.

We must not believe if we make a few discoveries here and there that things will go on like this forever. An acrobat may leap higher than a plowboy, and one acrobat may leap higher than another, yet the height over which no human can leap is still very low. Just as we find water when we dig in the earth, sooner or later we discover the incomprehensible everywhere.

To think this causes such confusion in my head, almost as though I tried to think that Poland lies to the west of us.

That men so often make false judgments is certainly not due solely to a lack of insight and ideas but primarily to the fact that they do not put every element of the proposition under the microscope and examine it.

Thousands can see that a proposition is nonsense without possessing the capacity to refute it formally.

What is the good of drawing conclusions from experience? I do not deny they are sometimes correct, but are they not just as often incorrect? Is that not what I intended to say? A game of chance.

An ass was obliged to carry an image of Isis, and when the people kneeled to worship the image, he thought they were honoring him.

How perfectible man is and how necessary education can be seen from the fact that he now appropriates in sixty years a culture that the whole race has taken five thousand years to create. A youth of eighteen can contain within himself the wisdom of whole ages. If I learn the proposition, the force that attracts in polished amber is the same as that which thunders in the clouds, I have learned something quite quickly, the discovery of which cost mankind several thousand years.

First there is a time when we believe everything without reasons; then for a short time we believe with discrimination; then we believe nothing at all; and then we believe everything again and indeed give reasons for believing everything.

You have discovered these traits together ten times, but have you also counted the cases in which you have not found them together?

An amusing thought: a scholar weeping because he cannot understand his own writings. […]

When something bites us in the dark, we can usually locate the spot with the point of a needle. What an exact plan the soul must have of its body.

There are few people who are not obliged to believe many things that upon closer examination they would not understand. They do this simply on the authority of others, or they think they lack the additional knowledge necessary to abolish all doubt. In this regard, it is possible for a proposition, whose truth has not yet been verified, to be universally believed.
I have long known, dear sir, that here and everywhere observations must be our primary concern and that a profound theory always allows enough room for two heads of equal size to distance themselves nearly to the point of being pro and contra. Only I assumed we are consistent, and what you have taken to be mere theory was a probable explanation of my numerous errors.

That people who read so astonishingly much are often such bad thinkers may also have its origin in the constitution of our brain. It is certainly not all the same whether I learn a proposition without effort or if I finally arrive at it myself through my own system of thought. In the latter everything has its roots; in the former it is merely superficial.

Let us take Sir Isaac Newton. All discoveries belong to chance, whether they come at the end or the beginning of the process, for otherwise reasonable people could sit down and make discoveries like they write letters. Wit spots a similarity, and reason tests it and finds it to be true: that is discovery.

One rule in reading is to condense the intention and main thoughts of the author into a few words and in this way to make them one's own. Whoever reads in this way is occupied and gains something. When one reads without comparison with one's own inventory of knowledge or without synthesizing it with one's own system of thought, the mind gains nothing and loses much.

It is almost impossible to carry the torch of truth through a crowd without singeing someone's beard.

What people call a subtle knowledge of human nature is for the most part nothing other than one's own weaknesses reflected back from others.

Whoever knows himself properly can very soon know all other men. It is all reflection.

Men who know well how to observe themselves, and thus secretly know a great deal, often are pleased to discover a weakness in themselves, where such a discovery would normally disappoint. For many, the professor is much more esteemed than the man.

It is certainly quite true that most people who are not capable of love are also worth little in friendship. Still, one often sees the opposite.

It is a fault common to all people of little talent and more erudition than understanding that they discover artificial rather than natural explanations.

It has always been true that most men live more according to fashion than reason.

There is in my opinion a great difference between teaching reasoning and being rational. There may be people who possess anything but common sense and yet who speculate admirably upon the rules it must observe, just as a physiologist can have knowledge of the constitution of the body and yet be quite unhealthy.

What can be the reason for man's terrible aversion to showing himself as he is, whether in his bedroom or in his most private thoughts? In the material world, everything is both what it can be and at the same time very forthright. According to our concepts, things are all that they can possibly be with respect to one another, but man is not. He appears rather to be that which he should not be. The art of concealing ourselves, or our aversion to letting ourselves be seen naked, intellectually or morally, is carried astonishingly far.

Words must occasionally be investigated, for the world can move on while words remain behind. Thus always things not words! For even the words infinite, eternal, and always have lost their meaning.

He was astonished that cats have two holes cut in their fur at precisely the spot where their eyes are.

Through our excessive reading we learn not only to take things for true that are not, but our proofs also acquire a form that is often demanded not so much by the nature of the case as by our unnoticed adherence to fashion. Using familiar examples, we demonstrate things that we could as convincingly support with examples from our own experience; and we even cite as support sentences that prove nothing and propositions that are mere tautologies. It is quite difficult to regard something in a new way and not mediated by fashion or determined by our accepted paradigm. When we should offer reasons and arguments, we instead offer our reputation; where we should teach, we instead threaten; and where humans would have been sufficient, we enlist gods for support.

Many people claim philosophical objectivity about certain things because they understand nothing of them.

A great way of attaining common sense is to strive constantly for clear concepts—not merely by relying on the definitions of others, but as far as possible by personal inquiry. We should repeatedly scrutinize things with the intention of discovering something others have not yet observed. For every word, we should at least once give ourselves an explanation and never use any word we do not understand.

It is not easy to think too much, but it is easy to read too much. The more things I think about, the more I endeavor to associate them with my experiences and my own system of thought, the stronger I become. With reading it is the contrary; I extend myself without increasing my strength. When I notice in my thinking gaps I cannot fill or difficulties I cannot overcome, I must consult a book and read. Either this is how one becomes useful, or there is no way.

It would be a blessing if we could shut our ears and other senses like we shut our eyes.

That it is so easy to shut our eyes and so difficult to shut our ears, except by covering them with our hands, shows undeniably that heaven was more concerned with the maintenance of our sensible apparatus than with the pleasure of our soul. Our ears are our most alert sentinels in sleep. What a blessing it would be if we could close and open our ears as easily as our eyes!

The noble simplicity in the works of nature has its origin only too often in the noble shortsightedness of the one who observes it.

There is a great difference between believing something and not being able to believe the contrary. I can often believe things without being able to prove them, just as I disbelieve others without being able to disprove them. The position I take is determined not strictly by logic but by the preponderance of evidence.

Anyone who reflects on the history of philosophy and natural science will find that the greatest discoveries were made by people who regarded as merely probable what others advanced as certain. They might be described as adherents of the New Academy—a school that maintained a balance between the rigorous certainty of the Stoics and the uncertainty and indifference of the Skeptics. Such a philosophy is all the more to be recommended in that we accumulate our ideas and opinions at a time when our understanding is at its weakest.

In all sciences, it can be advantageous to posit cases that as far as we know do not occur in nature, just as mathematicians posit alternative laws of gravity. It is always heuristic and may sometimes provoke insights.

If only I could dishabituate myself from everything, so I could see anew, hear anew, and feel anew. Habit corrupts our philosophy.

We can do good in as many ways as we can sin, in thought, word, and deed.

There are truths that go about so garishly attired that we should take them for lies, but they are pure truths nonetheless.

Premeditated virtue is not worth much; feeling or habit is the thing.

If only children could be educated so that all things unclear were entirely incomprehensible to them.

It is very good to read once again the books others have read already a hundred times, for though the object remains the same, the subject is different.

Shortsighted and farsighted are used incorrectly as metaphors of mental capacity. Here shortsighted means blind; but it is clear that shortsighted people also see things others do not.

The most dangerous untruths are truths slightly distorted.

The human tendency to regard little things as significant has produced much that is great.

It is a great trick of rhetoric merely to persuade people when one could have convinced them; they often think themselves convinced when merely persuaded.

With prophecies, the interpreter is often a more important man than the prophet.

Nothing is more agreeable to me than instances where my sympathy or antipathy precedes reason to discover how these are related, in other words, to become aware of what I am in this world and why I am this way.—Our entire philosophy, I believe, consists in becoming distinctly aware of what we already are mechanically.

The mind of man is no less provided for than is the body of an animal; what in the latter is called appetite and instinct is in the former called common sense. Both can suffocate; the only difference being that for an animal the cause must be external, but for man it can also be internal. An animal is for itself always a subject, while man is for himself also an object.

However we imagine representing to ourselves the things outside of us, these representations will and must invariably carry some trace of the subject in them. It seems to me a very unphilosophical idea to regard our soul as merely passive; no, it also contributes something to the objects. Thus there can be no being in the world that recognizes the world as it really is. I would like to call this the affinities of the mental and physical worlds, and I can very well imagine there might be beings for whom the order of the universe would be music to which they dance while heaven plays accompaniment.

Just as the highest law is the greatest injustice, so too is the greatest injustice often the highest law.

What am I? What shall I do? What may I hope and believe? All things in philosophy can be reduced to this.

It is actually evidence for the great limitation of our sensibilities that we do not see the essence of things. We see the color, feel the weight, impenetrability, and density of a magnet; but these properties are not—whether taken separately or together—that by virtue of which the magnet attracts iron, for other objects also possesses all of these properties.

It is necessary to agitate all of our knowledge and then let it settle again in order to see how everything is arranged. […]

To discover between things relationships and similarities that no one else sees. In this way, wit can lead to invention.

Writing is an excellent means of awakening the system sleeping within each of us; anyone who has ever written will have discovered that writing always awakens something that, though it lay within us, we did not previously clearly recognize.

When he attends church and reads his bible, the ordinary man confuses the means with the end—a very common error.

“Ah!” he exclaimed at his mishap, “if only I had done something delightfully sinful this morning, I would know why I am suffering now!”

That a false hypothesis is at times to be preferred to the correct one can be seen in the doctrine of the freedom of man. Man is certainly not free, but a quite profound study of philosophy is required not to be misled by this idea. Among a thousand people, none has the time and patience for such study, and among the hundred that do, not one has the mind or spirit for it. Freedom is thus really the most convenient way of thinking about the matter for oneself and, since it has appearance on its side, will always remain the most conventional one.

We must have hypotheses and theories in order to organize our knowledge, otherwise everything remains merely detritus—and we already have a great deal of scholars who produce this.

An autopsy cannot uncover those faults that end with death.

An excellent motto: “Opinions are continually varying, where we cannot have mathematical evidence of the nature of things; and they must vary. Nor is that variation without its use, since it occasions a more thorough discussion, whereby error is often dissipated true knowledge is encreased and its principles become better understood and more firmly established” (Franklin's Letters on Philosophical Subjects, Letter 38)

Those who think a great deal for themselves will find much wisdom recorded in language. We probably do not add it all ourselves

Just as the followers of Herr Kant always accuse their opponents of not understanding him, I suspect there are many who believe he is correct simply because they understand him. His way of representing things is novel and differs considerably from the usual, and once we finally gain some insight into it, we are inclined to regard it as true, especially since it has so many zealous adherents. We should always remember, however, that understanding something is no reason for believing that it is true. I believe the satisfaction in having understood an extremely abstract and obscure system leads many to believe that its truth has thereby been demonstrated.

Nothing is more common than for people to consider themselves convinced of the truth of something as soon as they have understood the opinion a great man has held about the matter. These are, however, very different things. It has often happened to me. I believe that many people, once they have labored their way through the difficulties of the Tychonian system and all its epicycles, have thought: “Praise the Lord, I have finally figured it all out."

He learned to play a few pieces on the metaphysic.

Anyone who plunders the ideas of an ancient writer could defend himself by appealing to metempsychosis and say: “Prove I was not also that writer.”

We cannot really know whether we are not at this moment sitting in a madhouse.

Most teachers of faith defend their propositions, not because they are convinced of their truth, but because they once claimed they were true.

Nothing more clearly proves to me how matters stand in the world of learning than the fact that Spinoza was for so long regarded as an evil, disreputable man and his opinions as dangerous; the reputations of so many others have suffered a similar fate.

A character: everyone forms an incorrect idea of him and hates and persecutes him according to this image.

It is astonishing how often the word infinite is misused: everything is infinitely more beautiful, infinitely better, and so on. There must be something agreeable about the concept, or its misuse could not have become so widespread. What have the ancients to gain from this?

In order to find something, many, if not most, people must first know that it is there.

I believe that in comparison with the English, the German suppresses more with reason, which really should never happen. On many occasions, for instance, on which it would never occur to the Englishman to laugh, a German does not laugh because he knows it would be improper.

He was no “slave to his word,” as they say; on the contrary, he exercised such despotism over his promises that he could do with them whatever he wished.

In this world, you can live well from soothsaying but not from truthsaying.

One of the strangest delusions man would be capable of is to believe he is insane and sitting in a madhouse but actually be acting completely rational. If someone once became convinced of this, I really do not see how one could convince him otherwise.

A golden rule: we must judge people, not by their opinions, but by what these opinions make of them.

Certainly happiness cannot be the first principle of morality, for it shows me only the direction but not the way. Furthermore, happiness must be subordinated to reason, for otherwise, as Pütter once demonstrated quite well in collegio, perfice te could lead to the devil.*
*This ethical principle is attributed to the German philosopher Alexander Gottlieb Baumgarten (1714–1762): Perfice te ut finem, perfice te ut medium (“Perfect yourself as an ends, perfect yourself as a means”). Kant discusses this principle in section 4 of the Metaphysik der Sitten (Metaphysics of Morals) (1797) regarding the duties owed by persons to themselves. The translation is from Immanuel Kant, The Metaphysics of Morals

If a war has lasted twenty years, it may well last for a hundred. For war has now become a status. Polemocracy. People who have tasted peace die out.

To doubt things that are now believed without any investigation, that is everywhere the essential thing.

Why do I believe this? Is it actually this way?

It really deserves sincerely to be investigated, for my own housekeeping, why most discoveries happen by chance. The principle reason is really that people learn to regard things as their teachers and acquaintances do. That is why it would be quite useful for once to give instructions on how one can deviate from the rule according to certain laws.

Whenever I arrive at a new thought or theory, always to ask: Is this really as new as you believe it to be? This is also in general the best reminder never to be amazed at anything in the world (nil admirari).

My body is that particular part of the world that my thoughts are able to alter. Even imaginary illnesses may become real ones. In the rest of the world, my hypotheses cannot disturb the order of things.

To ask in everything the question: is this true? and then to seek reasons for why one believes it is not true.

It is strange that only extraordinary people make the discoveries that afterward seem so easy and simple; this presupposes that to perceive the most simple but true conditions of things requires very profound knowledge.

How do we arrive at the concept outside us? Why do we not believe that everything is within us and occurs within us? How is it that we arrive at the concept of distance at all? This seems quite difficult to resolve. We go as far as to locate that which is in us and occurs within us, namely, the changes of the images on our retina, outside ourselves, and yet when we are pricked or feel a pain in the eye, we immediately locate it in the eye itself.

A man of spirit must not think of the word difficulty as even existing. Away with it!

Outside us. It is certainly difficult to say how we arrived at this concept, for we actually merely sense things within us. To sense something outside oneself is a contradiction; we sense things only within ourselves, and what we sense is a mere modification of our self and thus within us. Because these alterations are not dependent upon us, we ascribe them to other things that are outside us and say that there are things we should call “praeter nos”; but for praeter we substitute the preposition extra, which is something entirely different. That we think of these things as being in a space outside us is clearly not a matter of sensation; it seems to be something that is most intimately interwoven with the nature of our sensible faculty of cognition; it is the form in which the representation of something praeter nos is given to us. The form of sensibility.

Man is a creature who searches for causes; in a hierarchy of minds, he could be called a “cause-seeker.” Other minds perhaps conceive of things according to different relations that to us are incomprehensible.

To invent an inventor for all things.

Is this really the only way of explaining this?

Seeing black is not the same as seeing nothing. Someone who has no eyes does not see everything around himself as black but does not see at all. We do not see black with our ears but do not see at all. Black then is seen or sensed to a certain degree; it is the feeling of tranquility for a sense engaged by light.

A good method of discovery is to imagine certain members of a system removed and then see how the rest would behave: for example, if the world were without iron, where would we be? This is an old example.

Georg Christoph Lichtenberg
Philosophical Writings
Translated, Edited, and with an Introduction by
Steven Tester

Self' could never be either a thing of parts or part of a thing

Attached to the article on pañc'upādānakkhandhā→

For the puthujjana ... a 'self' exists, as an extra-temporal monolithic whole ('self' could never be either a thing of parts or part of a thing). Nanavira Thera
Grenier: 'What has parts and successions is repugnant to the very nature of our being.'

Without understanding this basic thing, Suttas below must remain incomprehensible.

“Suppose, bhikkhus, there was a king or a royal minister who had never before heard the sound of a lute. He might hear the sound of a lute and say: ‘Good man, what is making this sound—so tantalizing, so lovely, so intoxicating, so entrancing, so enthralling?’ They would say to him: ‘Sire, it is a lute that is making this sound—so tantalizing, so lovely, so intoxicating, so entrancing, so enthralling.’ He would reply: ‘Go, man, bring me that lute.’

“They would bring him the lute and tell him: ‘Sire, this is that lute, the sound of which was so tantalizing, so lovely, so intoxicating, so entrancing, so enthralling.’ The king would say: ‘I’ve had enough with this lute, man. Bring me just that sound.’ The men would reply: ‘This lute, sire, consists of numerous components, of a great many components, and it gives off a sound when it is played upon with its numerous components; that is, in dependence on the parchment sounding board, the belly, the arm, the head, the strings, the plectrum, and the appropriate effort of the musician. So it is, sire, that this lute consisting of numerous components, of a great many components, gives off a sound when it is played upon with its numerous components.’

“The king would split the lute into ten or a hundred pieces, then he would reduce these to splinters. Having reduced them to splinters, he would burn them in a fire and reduce them to ashes, and he would winnow the ashes in a strong wind or let them be carried away by the swift current of a river. Then he would say: ‘A poor thing, indeed sir, is this so-called lute, as well as anything else called a lute. How the multitude are utterly heedless about it, utterly taken in by it!’

“So too, bhikkhus, a bhikkhu investigates form to the extent that there is a range for form, he investigates feeling to the extent that there is a range for feeling, he investigates perception to the extent that there is a range for perception, he investigates determinations to the extent that there is a range for determinatios, he investigates consciousness to the extent that there is a range for consciousness. As he investigates form to the extent that there is a range for form ... consciousness to the extent that there is a range for consciousness, whatever notions of ‘I’ or ‘mine’ or ‘I am’ had occurred to him before no longer occur to him.” from SN 22 : 246

Flowers

At Sāvatthī. “Bhikkhus, I do not dispute with the world; rather, it is the world that disputes with me. A proponent of the Dhamma does not dispute with anyone in the world. Of that which the wise in the world agree upon as not existing, I too say that it does not exist. And of that which the wise in the world agree upon as existing, I too say that it exists.

“And what is it, bhikkhus, that the wise in the world agree upon as not existing, of which I too say that it does not exist? Form that is permanent, stable, eternal, not subject to change: this the wise in the world agree upon as not existing, and I too say that it does not exist. Feeling … Perception … Determinations … Consciousness that is permanent, stable, eternal, not subject to change: this the wise in the world agree upon as not existing, and I too say that it does not exist.

“That, bhikkhus, is what the wise in the world agree upon as not existing, of which I too say that it does not exist.

“And what is it, bhikkhus, that the wise in the world agree upon as existing, of which I too say that it exists? Form that is impermanent, suffering, and subject to change: this the wise in the world agree upon as existing, and I too say that it exists. Feeling … Perception … Determinations … Consciousness that is impermanent, suffering, and subject to change: this the wise in the world agree upon as existing, and I too say that it exists.

“That, bhikkhus, is what the wise in the world agree upon as existing, of which I too say that it exists.

“There is, bhikkhus, a world-phenomenon in the world to which the Tathāgata has awakened and broken through. Having done so, he explains it, teaches it, proclaims it, establishes it, discloses it, analyses it, elucidates it.

“And what is that world-phenomenon in the world to which the Tathāgata has awakened and broken through? Form, bhikkhus, is a world-phenomenon in the world to which the Tathāgata has awakened and broken through. Having done so, he explains it, teaches it, proclaims it, establishes it, discloses it, analyses it, elucidates it. When it is being thus explained … and elucidated by the Tathāgata, if anyone does not know and see, how can I do anything with that foolish worldling, blind and sightless, who does not know and does not see?

“Feeling … Perception … Determinations … Consciousness is a world-phenomenon in the world to which the Tathāgata has awakened and broken through. Having done so, he explains it, teaches it, proclaims it, establishes it, discloses it, analyses it, elucidates it. When it is being thus explained … and elucidated by the Tathāgata, if anyone does not know and see, how can I do anything with that foolish worldling, blind and sightless, who does not know and does not see?

“Bhikkhus, just as a blue, red, or white lotus is born in the water and grows up in the water, but having risen up above the water, it stands unsullied by the water, so too the Tathāgata was born in the world and grew up in the world, but having overcome the world, he dwells unsullied by the world.”

SN 22 : 94