August 11, 2021 • 34 mins
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(00:00):
Chapter nine, the ferryman by thisriver, I want to stay, thought
said Arthur. It is the samewhich I have crossed a long time ago
on my way to the childlike people. A friendly ferryman had guided me.
Then he is the one I wantto go to. Starting out from his
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heart, my path had led meat that time into a new life,
which had now grown old and isdead. My present path, my present
new life, shall also take itsstart there. Tenderly, he looked into
the rushing water, into the transparentgreen, into the crystal lines of its
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drawing, so rich in secrets,bright pearls he saw rising from the deep,
quiet bubbles of air floating on thereflecting surface, the blue of the
sky being depicted in it with athousand eyes. The river looked at him
with green ones, with white ones, with crystal ones, with sky blue
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ones. How did he love thiswater? How did it delight him?
How grateful was he to it?In his heart? He heard the water
talking, which was newly awakening,and it told him, love this water,
stay near it, learn from it. Oh, yes, he wanted
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to learn from it. He wantedto listen to it. He who would
understand this water and its secrets,so it seemed to him, would also
understand many other things, many secrets, all secrets. But out of all
secrets of the river he today onlysaw one. This one touched his soul.
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He saw this water ran and ranincessantly, It ran and was nevertheless
always there was, always, atall times, the same and yet new
in every moment. Great be hewho would grasp this, understand this he
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understood and grasped it, not onlyfelt some idea of its stirring a distant
memory, divine voices, said ArthurRose. The workings of hunger in his
body became unbearable. In a daze, he walked on up the path by
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the river, up river, listenedto the current, listened to the rumbling
hunger in his body. When hereached the ferry, the boat was just
ready, and the same ferryman whohad once transported the young Samana across the
river stood in the boat. Siddartharecognized him. He had also aged very
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much. Would you like to ferryme over? He asked. The ferryman,
being astonished to see such an elegantman walking along and on foot,
took him into his boat and pushedit off the bank. It is a
beautiful life you have chosen for yourself. The passenger spoke, it must be
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beautiful to live by this water everyday, and a cruise on it with
a smile. The man at theoar moved from side to side. It
is beautiful, sir. It isas you say. But isn't every life?
Isn't every work beautiful? This maybe true, but I envy you
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yours. Ah, you would soonstop enjoying it. This is nothing for
people where her fine clothes, saidArthur laughed. Once before, I have
been looked upon today because of myclothes. I have been looked upon with
distrust. Wouldn't you, ferryman,like to accept these clothes, which are
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a nuisance to me from me?For you must know I have no money
to pay your fare. You arejoking, sir, the ferryman laughed.
I'm not joking. Friend. Behold, once before you have ferried me across
this water in your boat for theimmaterial reward of a good deed. Thus
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do it today as well, andaccept my clothes for it. And do
you, sir, intend to continuetraveling without clothes? Ah? Most of
all, I wouldn't want to continuetraveling at all. Most of all,
I would like you, ferryman,to give me an old loincloth and keep
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me as your assistant, or ratheras your trainee, for I'll have to
learn first how to handle the boat. For a long time, the ferryman
looked at the stranger, searching.Now I recognize you, he finally said.
At one time you've slept in myhut. This was a long time
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ago, possibly more than twenty yearsago, and you've been ferried across the
river by me and we parted likegood friends. Haven't you been a samana?
I can't think of your name anymore. My name is said d'Arthur,
and I was a samana when youlast saw me. So be welcome,
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said Arthur. My name is VasuDiva. You will, so,
I hope, be my guest today as well, and sleep in my
heart and tell me where you're comingfrom and why these beautiful clothes those are
such a nuisance to you. Theyhad reached the middle of the river,
and Vasudeva pushed the oar with morestrength in order to overcome the current.
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He worked calmly, his eyes fixedon the front of the boat. With
brawny arms. Siddhartha sat and watchedhim and remembered how once before, on
that last day of his time asa samana, love for this man had
stirred in his heart. Gratefully,he accepted Vasudeva's invitation. When they had
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reached the bank, he helped himto tie the boat to the stakes.
After this, the ferryman asked himto enter the hut, offered him bread
and water, and Sir Dartha atewith eager pleasure, and also ate with
eager pleasure of the mango fruits VasuDiva offered him. Afterwards, it was
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almost the time of the sunset.They sat on a log by the bank,
and sid Arthur told the fairyman aboutwhere he originally had come from and
about his life as he had seenit before his eyes to day, in
that hour of despair, until lateat night lasted his tale. Vasudeva listened
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with great attention, listened carefully.He let everything enter his mind, birthplace
and childhood, all that learning,all that searching, all joy, all
distress. This was among the Fairyman'svirtues, one of the greatest. Like
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only a few he knew how tolisten without him having spoken a word,
The speaker sensed how Vasudeva let hiswords enter his mind, quiet open waiting.
How he did not lose a singleword, awaited, not a single
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one with impatience, did not addhis phrase or rebuke, was just listening.
Sid Arthur felt, what a happyfortune it is to confess to such
a listener, to bury in hisheart his own life, his own search,
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his own suffering. But in theend of Siddartha's tale, when he
spoke of the tree by the river, and of his deep fall of the
holy om, and how he hadfelt such a love for the river after
his slumber, the ferryman listened withtwice the attention, entirely and completely absorbed
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by it, with his eyes closed. And when sid Arthur felt silent,
and a long silence had occurred,then Vasudeva said, it is as I
thought. The river has spoken toyou. It is your friend as well.
It speaks to you as well.That is good, That is very
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good. Stay with me, saidArthur, my friend. I used to
have a wife. Her bed wasnext to mine, but she has died
a long time ago. For along time I have lived alone. Now
you shall live with me. Thereis space and food for both. I
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thank you, said said Arthur,I thank you and accept and I also
thank you for this Vasudeva for listeningto me so well. These people are
rare who know how to listen.And I did not meet a single one
who knew it as well as youdid. I will also learn in this
respect from you. You will learnit, spoke Vasu Diva, but not
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from me. The river has taughtme to listen. From it, you
will learn it as well. Itknows everything, the river. Everything can
be learned from it. See you'vealready learned this from the river, to
that it is good to strive downwards, to sink, to seek depth.
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The rich and elegant, Saidhartha.Is becoming an osman servant the learned Brahman,
said Arthur, becomes a fairy man. This has also been told to
you by the river. You'll learnthat other thing from it as well,
quoth said Arthur, after a longpause. What other thing, Vasudva Vasu
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Diva rose, It is late,he said, let's go to sleep.
I can't tell you that other thing, O friend. You'll learn it,
or perhaps you already know it.See I'm no learned man. I have
no special skill in speaking. Ialso have no special skill in thinking.
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All I'm able to do is tolisten and to be godly. I have
learned nothing else. If I wasable to say and to teach it,
I might be a wise man.But like this, I am only a
ferryman, and it is my taskto ferry people across the river. I
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have transported many thousands, and toall of them, my river has been
nothing but an obstacle on their travels. They traveled to seek money and business,
and for weddings and on pilgrimages,and the river was obstructing their path,
and the ferryman's job was to getthem quickly across that obstacle. But
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for some among the thousand, afew, four or five, the river
has stopped being an obstacle. Theyhave heard its voice, they have listened
to it, and the river hasbecome sacred to them, as it has
become sacred to me. Let's restnow, said Arthur. Said. Arthur
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stayed with the ferryman and learned tooperate the boat, And when there was
nothing to do at the ferry,he worked with Vasudeva in the rice field,
gathered wood, plucked the fruit offthe banana trees. He learned to
build an oar and learn to mendthe boat and to weave baskets, and
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was joyful because of everything he learned, And the days and months passed quickly,
but more than Vasadeva could teach him. He was taught by the river
incessantly. He learned from it.Most of all, he learned from it
to listen, to pay close attention, with a quiet heart, with awaiting,
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opened soul, without passion, withouta wish, without judgment, without
an opinion, in a friendly manner. He lived side by side with Vasudeva,
and occasionally they exchanged some words fewand at length thought about words.
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Vasudeva was no friend to words.Rarely said Arthur, succeeded in persuading him
to speak. Did you so,He asked him, what one time did
you too learn that secret from theriver, that there is no time?
Vasudeva's face was filled with a brightsmile. Yes, said Arthur. He
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spoke, It is this what youmean, isn't it? That the river
is everywhere at once, at thesource and at the mouth, at the
waterfall, at the fairy, atthe rapids, in the sea, in
the mountains, everywhere at once,And that there is only the present for
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it not the shadow of the past, not the shadow of the future.
This it is, said sid Arthur. And when I had learned it,
I looked at my life, andit was also a river. And the
boy, said Arthur, was onlyseparated from the man, said Arthur,
and from the old man, saidArthur, by a shadow, not something
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real. Also said Arthur's previous birthswere no past, and his death and
his return to Brahma was no future. Nothing was, nothing will be.
Everything is, everything has existence andis present, said Arthur, spoke with
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ecstasy deeply. This enlightenment had delightedhim. Oh, was not all suffering.
Time were not all forms of tormentingoneself and being afraid. Time was
not everything hard, everything hostile inthe world gone and overcome as soon as
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one had overcome time, as soonas time would have been put out of
existence by one's thoughts. In ecstaticdelight, he had spoken, but Vasudeva
smiled at him brightly and nodded inconfirmation. Silently, he nodded, brushed
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his hand over Sir Arthur's shoulder,turned back to his work, and once
again, when the river had justincreased its flow in the rainy season and
made a powerful noise, then,said said Arthur, isn't it so,
oh, friend? The river hasmany voices, many many voices. Hasn't
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it the voice of a king,and of a warrior, and of a
bull, and of a bird ofthe night, and a woman giving birth,
and of a sighing man, anda thousand other voices? More so
it is, Vasudeva nodded, allvoices of the creature are in its voice.
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And do you know, said Arthur, continued, what word it speaks
when you succeed in hearing all ofits ten thousand voices at once? Happily,
Vasudeva's face was smiling. He bentover to sad Arthur and spoke the
holy om in his ear. Andthis had been the very thing which Siddhartha
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had also been hearing. And timeafter time his smile became more similar to
the ferryman's, became almost just asbright, almost just as thoughtfully glowing with
bliss, just as shining out ofthousand small wrinkles, just as alike to
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a child's, just as alike toan old man's. Many travelers seeing the
two ferrymen, thought they were brothers. Often they sat in the evening together
by the bank on the log saidnothing, and both listened to the water,
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which was no water to them,but the voice of life, the
voice of what exists, of whatis eternally taking shape. And it happened
from time to time that both,when listening to the water, thought of
the same things, of a conversationfrom the day before, yesterday, of
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one of their travelers, the faceand fate of whom had occupied their thoughts,
of death, of their childhood,And that they both, in the
same moment, when the wiver hadbeen saying something good to them, looked
at each other, both thinking preciselythe same thing, both delighted about the
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same answer to the same question.There was something about this fairy and the
two ferrymen which was transmitted to others, which many of the travelers felt.
It happened occasionally that a traveler,after having looked at the face of one
of the ferrymen, started to tellthe story of his life, told about
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pains, confessed evil things, askedfor comfort and advice. It happened occasionally
that someone asked for permission to stayfor a night with them to listen to
the river. It also happened thatcurious people came who had been told that
there were two wise men, orsorcerers or holy men living by that fairy.
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The curious people asked many questions,but they got no answers, and
they found neither sorcerers nor wise men. They only found two friendly, little
old men who seemed to be muteand to have become a bit strange and
Gaga, and the curious people laughedand were discussing how foolishly and gullibly the
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common people were spreading such empty rumors. The years passed by and nobody counted
them. Then at one time monkscame by on a pilgrimage followers of Gautama
the Buddha, who were asking tobe ferried across the river, and by
then the ferrymen were told that theywere most hurriedly walking back to their great
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teacher, for the news had spreadthe Exalted One was deadly sick and would
soon die his last human death inorder to become one with the salvation.
It was not long until a newflock of monks came along on their pilgrimage,
and another one, and the monks, as well as most of the
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other travelers and people walking through theland, spoke of nothing else than of
Gautama and his impending death. Andas people are flocking from everywhere and from
all sides, when they are goingto war or to the coronation of a
king, and are gathering like antsin droves. Thus they flocked, like
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being drawn on by a magic spell, to where the great Buddha was awaiting
his death, where the huge eventwas to take place, and the great
perfected one of an era was tobecome one with the glory. Often said
Arthur thought in those days of thedying wise man, the great teacher,
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whose voice had admonished nations and hadawoken hundreds of thousands, whose voice he
had also once heard, whose holyface he had also once seen with respect.
Kindly he thought of him, sawhis path to perfection before his eyes,
and remembered with a smile those wordswhich he had once as a young
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man said to him the exalted one. They had been so it seemed to
him, proud and precocious words.With a smile, he remembered them for
a long time. He knew thatthere was nothing standing between Gautama and him
anymore, though he was still unableto accept his teachings. No, there
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was no teaching a truly searching person, someone who truly wanted to find could
accept. But he who had found, he could approve of any teachings,
every path, every goal. Therewas nothing standing between him, meant all
the other thousand any more, wholived in that what is eternal, who
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breathed what is divine? On oneof these days when so many went on
a pilgrimage to the dying Buddha,Kamala also went to him, who used
to be one of the most beautifulof the courtesans. A long time ago,
she had retired from her previous life, had given her garden to the
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monks of Tarma as a gift,had taken her refuge in the teachings,
was among the friends and benefactors ofthe pilgrims. Together with Saddartha, the
boy, her son. She hadgone on her way due to the news
of the near death of Gautama.In simple clothes on foot with her little
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son, she was traveling by theriver. But the boy had soon grown
tired, desired to go back home, desired to rest, desired to eat,
became disobedient and started whining. Kamalaoften had to take a rest with
him. He was accustomed to havinghis way against her. She had to
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feed him, had to comfort him, had to scold him. He did
not comprehend why he had to goon this exhausting and sad pilgrimage with his
mother to an unknown place, toa stranger who was holly and about to
die. So what if he died? How did this concern the boy?
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The pilgrims were getting close to Vasudeva'sferry when little Sadhartha once again forced his
mother to rest. She Kamala herselfhad also become tired, and while the
boy was chewing a banana, shecrouched down on the ground, closed her
eyes a bit, and rested,But suddenly she uttered a wailing scream.
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The boy looked at her in fearand saw her face having grown pale from
horror, and from under her dressa small black snake fled by which Kamala
had been bitten. Hurriedly, theynow both ran along the path in order
to reach people, and got nearthe ferry. There, Kamala collapsed and
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was not able to go any further, but the boy started crying miserably,
only interrupting it to kiss and hughis mother, and she also joined his
loud screams for help, until thesound reached Vasudeva's ears, who stood at
the ferry. Quickly he came walking, took the woman on his arms,
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carried her into the boat. Theboy ran along, and soon they all
reached the hut, where Siddhartha stoodby the stove and was just lighting the
fire. He looked up and firstsaw the boy's face, which wondrously reminded
him of something like a warning toremember something he had forgotten. Then he
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saw Kamala, whom he instantly recognized, though she lay unconscious in the ferryman's
arms. And now he knew thatit was his own son whose face had
been such a warning reminder to him, and the heart stirred in his chest.
Kamala's wound was washed, but hadalready turned black, and her body
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was swollen. She was made todrink a healing potion. Her consciousness returned.
She lay on Sir d'arthur's bed inthe hut and bent over her stood,
said Arthur, who used to loveher so much it seemed like a
dream to her, with a smile. She looked at her friend's face.
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Just slowly she realized her situation rememberedthe bite, called timidly for the boy.
He's with you. Don't worry,said Sir Arthur. Kamala looked into
his eyes. She spoke with aheavy tongue, paralyzed by the poison.
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You've become old, my dear,she said, You've become gray. But
you are like the young Samana whoat one time came without clothes with dusty
feet to me into the garden.You are much more like him than you
were like him at the time whenyou had left me and come a swami
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in the eyes. You'll like him, said Arthur. Alas I have also
grown old. Old, could youstill recognize me, said Arthur, smiled
instantly, I recognized you, Kamala, my dear. Kamala pointed to her
boy and said, did you recognizehim as well? He is your son.
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Her eyes became confused and fell shut. The boy wept, said Arthur.
Took him on his knees, lethim weep, petted his hair,
and at the sight of the child'sface, a Brahman prayer came to his
mind, which he had learned along time ago when he had been a
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little boy himself. Slowly, witha singing voice, he started to speak
from his past and childhood. Thewords came flowing to him, and with
that sing song, the boy becamecalm, was only now and then uttering
a sob and fell asleep. Sadarthaplaced him on Vasadeva's bed. Vasudeva stood
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by the stove and cooked rice.Sidartha gave him a look, which he
returned with a smile. She'll die, Sadartha said quietly. Thasudiva nodded over
his friendly face ran the light ofthe stove's fire. Once again, Kamala
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returned to consciousness. Pain distorted herface. Siddartha's eyes read the suffering on
her mouth, on her pale cheeks. Quietly, he read it attentively,
waiting, his mind, becoming onewith her suffering. Kamala felt it.
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Her gaze sought his eyes, lookingat him, She said, now I
see that your eyes have changed aswell. They've become completely different. But
what do I still recognize that you'reSiddartha. It's you and it's not you.
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Sidartha said nothing. Quietly, hiseyes looked at hers. You have
achieved it, she asked, Youhave found peace. He smiled and placed
his hand on hers I'm seeing it, she said, I'm seeing it.
I too will find peace. Youhave found it, said Arthur, spoke
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in a whisper. Kamala never stoppedlooking into his eyes. She thought about
her pilgrimage to Gautama, which wantedto take in order to see the face
of the perfected One, to breathehis peace. And she thought that she
had now found him in his place, and that it was good, just
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as good as if she had seenthe other one. She wanted to tell
this to him, but the tongueno longer obeyed her will. Without speaking,
she looked at him, and hesaw the life fading from her eyes
when the final pain filled her eyesand made them grow dim, when the
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final shiver ran through her limbs,his finger closed her eyelids. For a
long time, he sat and lookedat her peacefully dead face. For a
long time, he observed her mouth, her old tired mouth, with those
lips which had become thin, andhe remembered that he used to, in
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the spring of his years, comparethis mouth with a freshly cracked fig.
For a long time, he satred in the pale face, in the
tired wrinkles, filled himself with thissight saw his own face lying in the
same manner, just as white,just as quenched out, and saw at
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the same time his face and hersbeing young, with red lips, with
fiery eyes, and the feeling ofthis both being present and at the time
real. The feeling of eternity completelyfilled every aspect of his being deeply.
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He felt, more deeply than everbefore, in this hour, the indestructibility
of every life, the eternity ofevery moment. When he rose, Vasudva
had prepared rice for him, butSiddartha did not eat. In the stable
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where their goats stood, the twoold men prepared beds of straw for themselves,
and Vasudeva lay himself down to sleep. But Sidartha went outside and sat
this night before the hut, listeningto the river, surrounded by the past,
touched and encircled by all times ofhis life at the same time.
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But occasionally he rose, stepped tothe door of the hut and listened whether
the boy was leaping. Early inthe morning, even before the sun could
be seen, Vasudeva came out ofthe stable and walked over to his friend.
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You haven't slept, he said,no, Vasadiva, I sat here
I was listening to the river alot. It has told me deeply.
It has filled me with the healingthought, with the thought of oneness.
You've experienced suffering, said Arthur.But I see no sadness has entered your
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heart. No, my dear,how should I be sad? I who
have been rich and happy, havebecome even richer and happier. Now my
son has been given to me.Your son shall be welcome to me as
well. But now, said Arthur, let's get to work. There is
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much to be done. Kamala hasdied on the same bed on which my
wife had died a long time ago. Let us also build Kamala's funeral pile
on the same hill on which Ihad then built my wife's funeral pile.
While the boy was still asleep,they built the funeral pile. End of
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Chapter nine.
Chapter nine, the ferryman by thisriver, I want to stay, thought
said Arthur. It is the samewhich I have crossed a long time ago
on my way to the childlike people. A friendly ferryman had guided me.
Then he is the one I wantto go to. Starting out from his
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heart, my path had led meat that time into a new life,
which had now grown old and isdead. My present path, my present
new life, shall also take itsstart there. Tenderly, he looked into
the rushing water, into the transparentgreen, into the crystal lines of its
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drawing, so rich in secrets,bright pearls he saw rising from the deep,
quiet bubbles of air floating on thereflecting surface, the blue of the
sky being depicted in it with athousand eyes. The river looked at him
with green ones, with white ones, with crystal ones, with sky blue
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ones. How did he love thiswater? How did it delight him?
How grateful was he to it?In his heart? He heard the water
talking, which was newly awakening,and it told him, love this water,
stay near it, learn from it. Oh, yes, he wanted
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to learn from it. He wantedto listen to it. He who would
understand this water and its secrets,so it seemed to him, would also
understand many other things, many secrets, all secrets. But out of all
secrets of the river he today onlysaw one. This one touched his soul.
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He saw this water ran and ranincessantly, It ran and was nevertheless
always there was, always, atall times, the same and yet new
in every moment. Great be hewho would grasp this, understand this he
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understood and grasped it, not onlyfelt some idea of its stirring a distant
memory, divine voices, said ArthurRose. The workings of hunger in his
body became unbearable. In a daze, he walked on up the path by
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the river, up river, listenedto the current, listened to the rumbling
hunger in his body. When hereached the ferry, the boat was just
ready, and the same ferryman whohad once transported the young Samana across the
river stood in the boat. Siddartharecognized him. He had also aged very
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much. Would you like to ferryme over? He asked. The ferryman,
being astonished to see such an elegantman walking along and on foot,
took him into his boat and pushedit off the bank. It is a
beautiful life you have chosen for yourself. The passenger spoke, it must be
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beautiful to live by this water everyday, and a cruise on it with
a smile. The man at theoar moved from side to side. It
is beautiful, sir. It isas you say. But isn't every life?
Isn't every work beautiful? This maybe true, but I envy you
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yours. Ah, you would soonstop enjoying it. This is nothing for
people where her fine clothes, saidArthur laughed. Once before, I have
been looked upon today because of myclothes. I have been looked upon with
distrust. Wouldn't you, ferryman,like to accept these clothes, which are
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a nuisance to me from me?For you must know I have no money
to pay your fare. You arejoking, sir, the ferryman laughed.
I'm not joking. Friend. Behold, once before you have ferried me across
this water in your boat for theimmaterial reward of a good deed. Thus
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do it today as well, andaccept my clothes for it. And do
you, sir, intend to continuetraveling without clothes? Ah? Most of
all, I wouldn't want to continuetraveling at all. Most of all,
I would like you, ferryman,to give me an old loincloth and keep
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me as your assistant, or ratheras your trainee, for I'll have to
learn first how to handle the boat. For a long time, the ferryman
looked at the stranger, searching.Now I recognize you, he finally said.
At one time you've slept in myhut. This was a long time
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ago, possibly more than twenty yearsago, and you've been ferried across the
river by me and we parted likegood friends. Haven't you been a samana?
I can't think of your name anymore. My name is said d'Arthur,
and I was a samana when youlast saw me. So be welcome,
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said Arthur. My name is VasuDiva. You will, so,
I hope, be my guest today as well, and sleep in my
heart and tell me where you're comingfrom and why these beautiful clothes those are
such a nuisance to you. Theyhad reached the middle of the river,
and Vasudeva pushed the oar with morestrength in order to overcome the current.
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He worked calmly, his eyes fixedon the front of the boat. With
brawny arms. Siddhartha sat and watchedhim and remembered how once before, on
that last day of his time asa samana, love for this man had
stirred in his heart. Gratefully,he accepted Vasudeva's invitation. When they had
(06:35):
reached the bank, he helped himto tie the boat to the stakes.
After this, the ferryman asked himto enter the hut, offered him bread
and water, and Sir Dartha atewith eager pleasure, and also ate with
eager pleasure of the mango fruits VasuDiva offered him. Afterwards, it was
(06:57):
almost the time of the sunset.They sat on a log by the bank,
and sid Arthur told the fairyman aboutwhere he originally had come from and
about his life as he had seenit before his eyes to day, in
that hour of despair, until lateat night lasted his tale. Vasudeva listened
(07:19):
with great attention, listened carefully.He let everything enter his mind, birthplace
and childhood, all that learning,all that searching, all joy, all
distress. This was among the Fairyman'svirtues, one of the greatest. Like
(07:42):
only a few he knew how tolisten without him having spoken a word,
The speaker sensed how Vasudeva let hiswords enter his mind, quiet open waiting.
How he did not lose a singleword, awaited, not a single
(08:03):
one with impatience, did not addhis phrase or rebuke, was just listening.
Sid Arthur felt, what a happyfortune it is to confess to such
a listener, to bury in hisheart his own life, his own search,
(08:24):
his own suffering. But in theend of Siddartha's tale, when he
spoke of the tree by the river, and of his deep fall of the
holy om, and how he hadfelt such a love for the river after
his slumber, the ferryman listened withtwice the attention, entirely and completely absorbed
(08:46):
by it, with his eyes closed. And when sid Arthur felt silent,
and a long silence had occurred,then Vasudeva said, it is as I
thought. The river has spoken toyou. It is your friend as well.
It speaks to you as well.That is good, That is very
(09:11):
good. Stay with me, saidArthur, my friend. I used to
have a wife. Her bed wasnext to mine, but she has died
a long time ago. For along time I have lived alone. Now
you shall live with me. Thereis space and food for both. I
(09:35):
thank you, said said Arthur,I thank you and accept and I also
thank you for this Vasudeva for listeningto me so well. These people are
rare who know how to listen.And I did not meet a single one
who knew it as well as youdid. I will also learn in this
respect from you. You will learnit, spoke Vasu Diva, but not
(10:01):
from me. The river has taughtme to listen. From it, you
will learn it as well. Itknows everything, the river. Everything can
be learned from it. See you'vealready learned this from the river, to
that it is good to strive downwards, to sink, to seek depth.
(10:26):
The rich and elegant, Saidhartha.Is becoming an osman servant the learned Brahman,
said Arthur, becomes a fairy man. This has also been told to
you by the river. You'll learnthat other thing from it as well,
quoth said Arthur, after a longpause. What other thing, Vasudva Vasu
(10:50):
Diva rose, It is late,he said, let's go to sleep.
I can't tell you that other thing, O friend. You'll learn it,
or perhaps you already know it.See I'm no learned man. I have
no special skill in speaking. Ialso have no special skill in thinking.
(11:13):
All I'm able to do is tolisten and to be godly. I have
learned nothing else. If I wasable to say and to teach it,
I might be a wise man.But like this, I am only a
ferryman, and it is my taskto ferry people across the river. I
(11:33):
have transported many thousands, and toall of them, my river has been
nothing but an obstacle on their travels. They traveled to seek money and business,
and for weddings and on pilgrimages,and the river was obstructing their path,
and the ferryman's job was to getthem quickly across that obstacle. But
(11:58):
for some among the thousand, afew, four or five, the river
has stopped being an obstacle. Theyhave heard its voice, they have listened
to it, and the river hasbecome sacred to them, as it has
become sacred to me. Let's restnow, said Arthur. Said. Arthur
(12:22):
stayed with the ferryman and learned tooperate the boat, And when there was
nothing to do at the ferry,he worked with Vasudeva in the rice field,
gathered wood, plucked the fruit offthe banana trees. He learned to
build an oar and learn to mendthe boat and to weave baskets, and
(12:43):
was joyful because of everything he learned, And the days and months passed quickly,
but more than Vasadeva could teach him. He was taught by the river
incessantly. He learned from it.Most of all, he learned from it
to listen, to pay close attention, with a quiet heart, with awaiting,
(13:07):
opened soul, without passion, withouta wish, without judgment, without
an opinion, in a friendly manner. He lived side by side with Vasudeva,
and occasionally they exchanged some words fewand at length thought about words.
(13:30):
Vasudeva was no friend to words.Rarely said Arthur, succeeded in persuading him
to speak. Did you so,He asked him, what one time did
you too learn that secret from theriver, that there is no time?
Vasudeva's face was filled with a brightsmile. Yes, said Arthur. He
(13:54):
spoke, It is this what youmean, isn't it? That the river
is everywhere at once, at thesource and at the mouth, at the
waterfall, at the fairy, atthe rapids, in the sea, in
the mountains, everywhere at once,And that there is only the present for
(14:16):
it not the shadow of the past, not the shadow of the future.
This it is, said sid Arthur. And when I had learned it,
I looked at my life, andit was also a river. And the
boy, said Arthur, was onlyseparated from the man, said Arthur,
and from the old man, saidArthur, by a shadow, not something
(14:41):
real. Also said Arthur's previous birthswere no past, and his death and
his return to Brahma was no future. Nothing was, nothing will be.
Everything is, everything has existence andis present, said Arthur, spoke with
(15:03):
ecstasy deeply. This enlightenment had delightedhim. Oh, was not all suffering.
Time were not all forms of tormentingoneself and being afraid. Time was
not everything hard, everything hostile inthe world gone and overcome as soon as
(15:28):
one had overcome time, as soonas time would have been put out of
existence by one's thoughts. In ecstaticdelight, he had spoken, but Vasudeva
smiled at him brightly and nodded inconfirmation. Silently, he nodded, brushed
(15:48):
his hand over Sir Arthur's shoulder,turned back to his work, and once
again, when the river had justincreased its flow in the rainy season and
made a powerful noise, then,said said Arthur, isn't it so,
oh, friend? The river hasmany voices, many many voices. Hasn't
(16:12):
it the voice of a king,and of a warrior, and of a
bull, and of a bird ofthe night, and a woman giving birth,
and of a sighing man, anda thousand other voices? More so
it is, Vasudeva nodded, allvoices of the creature are in its voice.
(16:38):
And do you know, said Arthur, continued, what word it speaks
when you succeed in hearing all ofits ten thousand voices at once? Happily,
Vasudeva's face was smiling. He bentover to sad Arthur and spoke the
holy om in his ear. Andthis had been the very thing which Siddhartha
(17:04):
had also been hearing. And timeafter time his smile became more similar to
the ferryman's, became almost just asbright, almost just as thoughtfully glowing with
bliss, just as shining out ofthousand small wrinkles, just as alike to
(17:26):
a child's, just as alike toan old man's. Many travelers seeing the
two ferrymen, thought they were brothers. Often they sat in the evening together
by the bank on the log saidnothing, and both listened to the water,
(17:47):
which was no water to them,but the voice of life, the
voice of what exists, of whatis eternally taking shape. And it happened
from time to time that both,when listening to the water, thought of
the same things, of a conversationfrom the day before, yesterday, of
(18:08):
one of their travelers, the faceand fate of whom had occupied their thoughts,
of death, of their childhood,And that they both, in the
same moment, when the wiver hadbeen saying something good to them, looked
at each other, both thinking preciselythe same thing, both delighted about the
(18:32):
same answer to the same question.There was something about this fairy and the
two ferrymen which was transmitted to others, which many of the travelers felt.
It happened occasionally that a traveler,after having looked at the face of one
of the ferrymen, started to tellthe story of his life, told about
(18:55):
pains, confessed evil things, askedfor comfort and advice. It happened occasionally
that someone asked for permission to stayfor a night with them to listen to
the river. It also happened thatcurious people came who had been told that
there were two wise men, orsorcerers or holy men living by that fairy.
(19:19):
The curious people asked many questions,but they got no answers, and
they found neither sorcerers nor wise men. They only found two friendly, little
old men who seemed to be muteand to have become a bit strange and
Gaga, and the curious people laughedand were discussing how foolishly and gullibly the
(19:45):
common people were spreading such empty rumors. The years passed by and nobody counted
them. Then at one time monkscame by on a pilgrimage followers of Gautama
the Buddha, who were asking tobe ferried across the river, and by
then the ferrymen were told that theywere most hurriedly walking back to their great
(20:10):
teacher, for the news had spreadthe Exalted One was deadly sick and would
soon die his last human death inorder to become one with the salvation.
It was not long until a newflock of monks came along on their pilgrimage,
and another one, and the monks, as well as most of the
(20:34):
other travelers and people walking through theland, spoke of nothing else than of
Gautama and his impending death. Andas people are flocking from everywhere and from
all sides, when they are goingto war or to the coronation of a
king, and are gathering like antsin droves. Thus they flocked, like
(20:59):
being drawn on by a magic spell, to where the great Buddha was awaiting
his death, where the huge eventwas to take place, and the great
perfected one of an era was tobecome one with the glory. Often said
Arthur thought in those days of thedying wise man, the great teacher,
(21:22):
whose voice had admonished nations and hadawoken hundreds of thousands, whose voice he
had also once heard, whose holyface he had also once seen with respect.
Kindly he thought of him, sawhis path to perfection before his eyes,
and remembered with a smile those wordswhich he had once as a young
(21:47):
man said to him the exalted one. They had been so it seemed to
him, proud and precocious words.With a smile, he remembered them for
a long time. He knew thatthere was nothing standing between Gautama and him
anymore, though he was still unableto accept his teachings. No, there
(22:11):
was no teaching a truly searching person, someone who truly wanted to find could
accept. But he who had found, he could approve of any teachings,
every path, every goal. Therewas nothing standing between him, meant all
the other thousand any more, wholived in that what is eternal, who
(22:36):
breathed what is divine? On oneof these days when so many went on
a pilgrimage to the dying Buddha,Kamala also went to him, who used
to be one of the most beautifulof the courtesans. A long time ago,
she had retired from her previous life, had given her garden to the
(22:59):
monks of Tarma as a gift,had taken her refuge in the teachings,
was among the friends and benefactors ofthe pilgrims. Together with Saddartha, the
boy, her son. She hadgone on her way due to the news
of the near death of Gautama.In simple clothes on foot with her little
(23:22):
son, she was traveling by theriver. But the boy had soon grown
tired, desired to go back home, desired to rest, desired to eat,
became disobedient and started whining. Kamalaoften had to take a rest with
him. He was accustomed to havinghis way against her. She had to
(23:48):
feed him, had to comfort him, had to scold him. He did
not comprehend why he had to goon this exhausting and sad pilgrimage with his
mother to an unknown place, toa stranger who was holly and about to
die. So what if he died? How did this concern the boy?
(24:11):
The pilgrims were getting close to Vasudeva'sferry when little Sadhartha once again forced his
mother to rest. She Kamala herselfhad also become tired, and while the
boy was chewing a banana, shecrouched down on the ground, closed her
eyes a bit, and rested,But suddenly she uttered a wailing scream.
(24:36):
The boy looked at her in fearand saw her face having grown pale from
horror, and from under her dressa small black snake fled by which Kamala
had been bitten. Hurriedly, theynow both ran along the path in order
to reach people, and got nearthe ferry. There, Kamala collapsed and
(25:00):
was not able to go any further, but the boy started crying miserably,
only interrupting it to kiss and hughis mother, and she also joined his
loud screams for help, until thesound reached Vasudeva's ears, who stood at
the ferry. Quickly he came walking, took the woman on his arms,
(25:26):
carried her into the boat. Theboy ran along, and soon they all
reached the hut, where Siddhartha stoodby the stove and was just lighting the
fire. He looked up and firstsaw the boy's face, which wondrously reminded
him of something like a warning toremember something he had forgotten. Then he
(25:48):
saw Kamala, whom he instantly recognized, though she lay unconscious in the ferryman's
arms. And now he knew thatit was his own son whose face had
been such a warning reminder to him, and the heart stirred in his chest.
Kamala's wound was washed, but hadalready turned black, and her body
(26:12):
was swollen. She was made todrink a healing potion. Her consciousness returned.
She lay on Sir d'arthur's bed inthe hut and bent over her stood,
said Arthur, who used to loveher so much it seemed like a
dream to her, with a smile. She looked at her friend's face.
(26:37):
Just slowly she realized her situation rememberedthe bite, called timidly for the boy.
He's with you. Don't worry,said Sir Arthur. Kamala looked into
his eyes. She spoke with aheavy tongue, paralyzed by the poison.
(27:00):
You've become old, my dear,she said, You've become gray. But
you are like the young Samana whoat one time came without clothes with dusty
feet to me into the garden.You are much more like him than you
were like him at the time whenyou had left me and come a swami
(27:23):
in the eyes. You'll like him, said Arthur. Alas I have also
grown old. Old, could youstill recognize me, said Arthur, smiled
instantly, I recognized you, Kamala, my dear. Kamala pointed to her
boy and said, did you recognizehim as well? He is your son.
(27:49):
Her eyes became confused and fell shut. The boy wept, said Arthur.
Took him on his knees, lethim weep, petted his hair,
and at the sight of the child'sface, a Brahman prayer came to his
mind, which he had learned along time ago when he had been a
(28:11):
little boy himself. Slowly, witha singing voice, he started to speak
from his past and childhood. Thewords came flowing to him, and with
that sing song, the boy becamecalm, was only now and then uttering
a sob and fell asleep. Sadarthaplaced him on Vasadeva's bed. Vasudeva stood
(28:41):
by the stove and cooked rice.Sidartha gave him a look, which he
returned with a smile. She'll die, Sadartha said quietly. Thasudiva nodded over
his friendly face ran the light ofthe stove's fire. Once again, Kamala
(29:03):
returned to consciousness. Pain distorted herface. Siddartha's eyes read the suffering on
her mouth, on her pale cheeks. Quietly, he read it attentively,
waiting, his mind, becoming onewith her suffering. Kamala felt it.
(29:23):
Her gaze sought his eyes, lookingat him, She said, now I
see that your eyes have changed aswell. They've become completely different. But
what do I still recognize that you'reSiddartha. It's you and it's not you.
(29:45):
Sidartha said nothing. Quietly, hiseyes looked at hers. You have
achieved it, she asked, Youhave found peace. He smiled and placed
his hand on hers I'm seeing it, she said, I'm seeing it.
I too will find peace. Youhave found it, said Arthur, spoke
(30:11):
in a whisper. Kamala never stoppedlooking into his eyes. She thought about
her pilgrimage to Gautama, which wantedto take in order to see the face
of the perfected One, to breathehis peace. And she thought that she
had now found him in his place, and that it was good, just
(30:32):
as good as if she had seenthe other one. She wanted to tell
this to him, but the tongueno longer obeyed her will. Without speaking,
she looked at him, and hesaw the life fading from her eyes
when the final pain filled her eyesand made them grow dim, when the
(30:55):
final shiver ran through her limbs,his finger closed her eyelids. For a
long time, he sat and lookedat her peacefully dead face. For a
long time, he observed her mouth, her old tired mouth, with those
lips which had become thin, andhe remembered that he used to, in
(31:19):
the spring of his years, comparethis mouth with a freshly cracked fig.
For a long time, he satred in the pale face, in the
tired wrinkles, filled himself with thissight saw his own face lying in the
same manner, just as white,just as quenched out, and saw at
(31:45):
the same time his face and hersbeing young, with red lips, with
fiery eyes, and the feeling ofthis both being present and at the time
real. The feeling of eternity completelyfilled every aspect of his being deeply.
(32:06):
He felt, more deeply than everbefore, in this hour, the indestructibility
of every life, the eternity ofevery moment. When he rose, Vasudva
had prepared rice for him, butSiddartha did not eat. In the stable
(32:27):
where their goats stood, the twoold men prepared beds of straw for themselves,
and Vasudeva lay himself down to sleep. But Sidartha went outside and sat
this night before the hut, listeningto the river, surrounded by the past,
touched and encircled by all times ofhis life at the same time.
(32:52):
But occasionally he rose, stepped tothe door of the hut and listened whether
the boy was leaping. Early inthe morning, even before the sun could
be seen, Vasudeva came out ofthe stable and walked over to his friend.
(33:12):
You haven't slept, he said,no, Vasadiva, I sat here
I was listening to the river alot. It has told me deeply.
It has filled me with the healingthought, with the thought of oneness.
You've experienced suffering, said Arthur.But I see no sadness has entered your
(33:36):
heart. No, my dear,how should I be sad? I who
have been rich and happy, havebecome even richer and happier. Now my
son has been given to me.Your son shall be welcome to me as
well. But now, said Arthur, let's get to work. There is
(34:00):
much to be done. Kamala hasdied on the same bed on which my
wife had died a long time ago. Let us also build Kamala's funeral pile
on the same hill on which Ihad then built my wife's funeral pile.
While the boy was still asleep,they built the funeral pile. End of
(34:27):
Chapter nine.
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