In Search of Excalibur

To share forward what we have received, humbly, to the best of our ability, as an example of someone who can grow, being less influenced by external expectations and more driven by an inner aspiration to know who we really are and what our purpose is, in life. Knowing that in this vast fabric of time and space, what I choose to do today, can have an impact on future generations – and is therefore, a great responsibility that I bear, to choose correctly for the beehive that sustains all of us.

As I began to reflect on how our way of living had changed literally overnight when the lockdown was announced in Mumbai, I realised that like most people, I went through various stages of emotions, doubts, and concerns. There were moments of uncertainty, and confusion about the future, the health of loved ones, the suffering around the planet, and concern about the outlook of our family business, our employees… However, early on I was able to distance myself from this constant noise; the diverse opinions and criticism about how the situation should be handled, the influx of information, the endless WhatsApp forwards, and the general sense of panic that I noticed around me.

As philosophers born in an age where Science is leading the pursuit of answering questions to do with life, creation and the nature of reality, it becomes incumbent upon us to keep alive the sense of wonder at the underlying order and harmony in the workings of the universe. The search for ‘truth’ and ‘meaning’ has driven philosophers, scientists and religious thinkers alike…so would it really be presumptuous to qualify this search as one to do with the ultimate mystery, the enigma of God? This article looks at this enigma by reproducing interesting conversations on the interplay between scientific pursuits and spiritually based ideas from renowned scientists and writers. It sets out to show how rationalists and scientists do concur albeit in different ways, that there is an invisible force that animates all of us and determines the laws of nature and the universe at large.

There is a relative uncertainty as to when our earliest human ancestors evolved on earth. But it is certain that by that time, a myriad variety of plants and trees had already been thriving on the planet. The very structure of a tree, with its trunk segmenting into branches, twigs and leaves, is a physical manifestation of the philosophical concept characterizing the relationship between the universe and the One; multiplicity from Unity. The tree’s concealed roots further extend the metaphor, of unity springing from a hidden origin or source. Even those of us who do not share this perception cannot help but experience a sense of awe, perhaps even an intuitive reverence, in the presence of a forest of these majestic giants clothed in their silent, steadfast, resilient beauty. Older than man himself, trees have been integral to myths and folklore in almost all cultures as symbols of solace, strength, abundance, and immortality.

I confess: I love seeking knowledge. I read a lot, and also hoard many more books than I can actually read…I am a bibliomaniac. Thomas Frognall Dobson spoke of this fictional “neurosis” that prompts an obsessive desire to collect books. (1) But there is a more fascinating Japanese word for it: Tsundoku, which essentially is to do with the hoarding of books, many of which shall never be read. We simply allow these books to pile up on our book shelves.

The word Samurai originally meant ‘those who serve’, although individuals of this elite warrior class in medieval Japan were also referred to as Bushi, or warrior. And Bushido was the code of morality which the Samurai were meant to follow, not just in battle, but also in day-to-day activity. Speaking of this code in his book Bushido: The Soul of Japan, which is widely considered to be an authority on the subject, Nitobe says that it was not written down anywhere, but had organically formed over centuries.

What is it about a musician or a doctor that makes him more than a simple technician, one that has developed an expert ability to discharge a particular skill? Beyond the mechanics of these professions, we may find a sincere pursuit of something higher; values such as Beauty, Harmony and Goodness. This came to light for me when I started looking for schools for my children; it was clear for me that practical experience and confidence in these values superseded everything else. I realized also, that education is a key component in every aspect of a child’s life.

A Zen master asks his student, “Without thinking good or evil, in this very moment, What is your original Face?
…. Show me your Original Face, the face you had before your parents were born.”

“Quickly, quickly, without thinking right and wrong…”
(Before the engines of thought and feeling start revving, before you’re making judgements or starting to act out of some motivation like trying to win or to please)

“…before your parents were born” (before the whole mad story of You heaves into the picture, complete with family legacies handed down through the generations)

…what is your original face?” (Before all that, who are you truly?)

The following piece is my humble investigation into my fear of death; the fear of my own (impending) death and also the fear of the eventual death of a loved one. This journey began 8 years ago with my mother’s sudden death. It has been insightful that while processing my grief some years down the line, a psychotherapist helped me conclude, that the trauma resulting from a loved one’s death, can actually embed itself in hypochondriac behaviour.

Life is a mystery and in mysterious ways, invites us to unravel it. The Truth it guards so protectively is expressed in myriad symbolic forms, some of which have survived over centuries, civilizations, and cultures. For one who is on a philosophical adventure of seeking wisdom, these symbolic forms are a bridge to the hidden Truth, or at least to some aspect of it. One such intriguing form that literally and figuratively conceals the mystery that is man, is a mask.

There is an old Eastern saying which states: “The Past Time is the Present Time, as also the Future, which, though it has not come into existence, still is.” In the Eastern view of time, reality exists beyond the temporal realm and what we experience as separate stages are actually part of a simultaneous reality. This is an interesting concept, implying that the past still exists, the present is but a fleeting moment and the future already exists in the blueprint of nature. It would be one way of explaining the many instances of prophecy that have been recorded in history.

Few amongst us can deny a ubiquitous yearning for change – socially, politically, ecologically, spiritually and a myriad other dimensions. Unfortunately, this longing seldom manifests beyond vehemently voicing the already well-recognised need for change or deluging the social media space with our postulates of it. Real change, nevertheless, continues to elude us. Intimidated by the apparently enormous effort essential to effect change, we succumb to our instinctive resistance to change resigning to an endless array of excuses – resorting to blaming destiny, external circumstances, or political situations, among others.

Tagore always criticized power and materialism for its own sake. The more one accumulates treasures, and the more one amasses all the power in the world, one is actually chained.

Often we find ourselves at the crossroads of various opportunities in life. We celebrate the privilege of having options, and experience a sense of freedom in the ability to choose from among so many possibilities. We feel we are in control of our lives, and decide to retain this freedom as far as possible, without having to commit to any one of the options. Before long, however, we are torn between the many options, each one more alluring than the next. And an inner battle looms, to retain as many options as possible, until the last possible minute.

It is said that the founder of Buddhism in Japan, the monk Mahakashyapa, received his illumination directly from Shakyamuni (Gautama Buddha), during what is known as the Silent Sermon or the Flower Sermon. Buddha held up a white flower to a crowd of assembled monks.