Lets try this one more time.
I have a growing disenchantment from "words" - symbols - all the knowledge expressed as symbols - as arrangements - as configurations - as "this not that"-ness - as classifications - as heirarchies. All the messages screaming from the billboards - all the formulas on the textbook pages - the syntax and indented programs on computer screens - everything is included in this all-embracing immersion of - what I call - "symbolic information".
There is something - not natural - in this. I detect a jarring discontinuity - a sharp edge - an abberation - like something out of tune - when I encounter it. And, its everywhere. On the road, on billboards, in overheard conversations, in "safety instructions" on the plane - everywhere.
The mind - my mind - is now conscious and attuned to detect these. And it feels the unnaturalness of it - the alienness. The part of the brain dealing with it - this symbolic onslaught - is overloaded - is constantly engaged.
I feel at peace without it all. Where there are no (or minimal) symbols. O! Language and words! They will be our undoing. I will try to be without - for longer durations. Trees and wind and clouds. No symbols. Please.
OK. What is left then, you ask. If not words, and symbols and arrangements and messages -
what else is there - you ask.
O! There is everything else.
There is the wind on your face.
The sun in your squinted eyes.
The gentle moistness of your lover's kiss.
The taste of black jamuns.
The insistent sound of a cat's meow.
The fragrance of mogra, of paradise.
And, the music, just the music - flowing - without symbols, without co-ordinates. The notes and their dance.
The dance of the grass undulating on the breeze.
The bubbles rising from the depths of the beer glass.
The texture of your lover's hair.
The exquisite undulation of her voice.
The leaves and branches with their shapes and shadows.
The delicate efforts of the fragile seedling venturing out from the moist soil.
The feeling of warm water on your body after sweaty work.
The smell of freshly sawed wood.
The spirals of the wood shavings from your wood-plane.
The soft seductive touch of the carpet on your feet.
All this. All this.
When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the universe - John Muir
In the pursuit of knowledge towards a "Theory of Everything" - no just in a Physics sense, but all encompassing - from particle physics to cosmology to biology - we seem to face increasing resistance. As if the universe demands more and more effort to reveal more fundamental truths. High energy colliders, electron microscopes, higher energies, etc.
Linear Pursuit
But, it may be that the shape of our pursuit is not linear - but circular. And, the difference between knowing everything and knowing nothing - is not as far as we imagine.
Circular Pursuit
A change in perspective is all that is required. A look - an awakening. This probably is the "spiritual" experience of Buddha, Jesus, and many others through time.
One can reach the sublime in pursuing anything - getting better at anything. Pick anything you see. Chhose a flower, a tool, a piece of the ground or a portion of the night sky - it can be anything. A musical instrument or a love of numbers.
Dedicate more and more time to this choice - and eventually you will find a truth which makes you satisfied.
Is the flower a "part" of the plant?
Is the petal a "part" of the flower?
Where does the plant become the flower?
Where does the stem become the root?
Is a tree, a tree, without leaves? Is a flower, a flower, without bees?
All these names - these categories - into which we divide and arrange and classify the world - are our names. They are just symbols - having no basis is reality. The world is not divided into wind and cloud, into fish and river, into leaf and a spider's web.
It is all continuous and connected. But strong, big connections - which we happen to perceive - like stems and branches - or tiny, delicate filaments like spider webs or small rivulets in the valley - which are just on the borders of perception. It is not inconceivable that this connectedness does not stop there. There are, of course, even finer webs which we cannot see. And even smaller rivulets, which we do not name.
For, where does a river start? In which leaf does the drop fall and bounce and slide onto the ground to become the tiny stream of water which eventually becomes a river which we name and identify and build bridges across.
"In the same manner, you are also connected.", says the Teacher. "You are but another drop, another spider's web filament, another cloud, another leaf. All of us are."
Language has been likened to a net - like a fishing net - cast on reality - trying hard to describe it. But, we forget that its just that - a net. It can never capture reality.
(Once this is realised, ponder the task of any translation exercise. No translation can be perfect.)
What a difference it can make. After some work - physical work - of moving your body - cutting wood, painting the greenhouse. Lots of sweat and fatigue. The T-Shirt clinging to me, my body felt tired and weary. But satisfied. Physical work is good.
Anyway - a bath. Yes - a bath. Water. Cold water. With a mug and a large basin. Cold water poured over yourself. Mug after mug. Again and again. Make everything wet - my hair, my face, my back, my legs. Water - O - cool, clean pure water. Cleanse me. Purify me. Bless me.
Mug after mug. I can't stop because its so cold. But, of course - eventually, I do - an then wipe off and into fresh clothes. The joy of combing the hair and a walk to dry the body and hair.
The bath has given me a new life and now, I can live again.