Ghosts of Things Dead by Richard Hartz

Sri Aurobindo c. 1920

Ghosts of Things Dead

Richard Hartz

Change is sweeping over the world as never before. Modern man with his technological wizardry is like the sorcerer’s apprentice conjuring up forces beyond his control. One of the most common reactions to runaway change is to cling to the past – but not often to what was best in the past. Meanwhile the higher faculties that once played a role in the guidance of life are marginalized or trivialized. Philosophy has been reduced to an academic specialization. Spirituality is represented by little more than popular travesties of the disciplines bequeathed by the mystics of the ages. Religions have survived and partially reversed the process of secularization, but in a globalized world they divide the human race instead of uniting it. Most of them have split into rapidly growing conservative camps and slowly declining liberal ones.

The rise of fundamentalism, especially, seems to indicate a widespread inability to adapt to the current pace of change. The roots of many of the movements labelled fundamentalist can be traced to the nineteenth century; but it is in the last few decades, and most noticeably since the end of the Cold War, that they have taken the world by surprise as a major factor in religion and politics. This phenomenon has been extensively studied within a rationalistic framework, where fundamentalism is seen as a challenge to secular modernity. Scholars working within this framework have contributed much valuable research and analysis. But it might be worthwhile to consider the problem from a less Eurocentric angle.

An alternative approach to understanding the radical changes occurring in the world today could draw inspiration from the philosophy of Sri Aurobindo, with its uniquely balanced synthesis of Eastern and Western perspectives. I will confine myself to examining a particularly relevant insight that recurred and was developed in his writings in various contexts over at least a forty-year period, indicating its importance in his worldview. It was first formulated even before he ended his brief but eventful career as a leader of the Indian freedom struggle and left British India for the French colony of Pondicherry, where he wrote his major works in relative seclusion. His essay “The Process of Evolution”, published in September 1909 in the weekly magazine Karmayogin, begins with the observation: “The end of a stage of evolution is usually marked by a powerful recrudescence of all that has to go out of the evolution.”[1] This concept of the “recrudescence” of things that have to be left behind in the psychological and spiritual development of humanity could, I suggest, shed light on the recent upsurge of fundamentalism.

Let us first see how Sri Aurobindo explains the general tendency of human evolution to be punctuated by apparent reversals which, far from undoing the results of the forward movement of Time, serve to expose and undermine the counter-evolutionary forces and create conditions favorable for their elimination. We will then be in a position to look at fundamentalism from a new point of view, less as a reaction to and contradiction of modernization and secularization than as a phase in the difficult progress of the human race from our infrarational beginnings toward a destiny that must include the fulfilment not only of our rational tendencies but of our deepest spiritual impulses.

To begin with, we have to note Sri Aurobindo’s use of the word “evolution” itself. Evolution is, of course, a Western term strongly associated with modern science and has no exact pre-modern equivalent in India or elsewhere. In the essay from which I have quoted, “evolution” has little to do with Darwin and much in common with the broad idea of progress – but the idea of progress is also often said to be a modern Western innovation. Sri Aurobindo’s conception of progress, though, differed significantly from that of the European Enlightenment. In his view, the triumph of reason over unreason, however necessary as a stage, cannot be the final goal of human progress since the reasoning intellect is not our highest possible faculty. In support of this view he appealed to the spiritual traditions of India.

Sri Aurobindo begins his essay, “The Process of Evolution”, with a discussion of individual psychological transformation using the Sanskrit terminology of Yoga. It is only two-thirds of the way through the essay that he makes the transition to a consideration of social and political evolution with the statement: “The law is the same for the mass as for the individual.”[2] The application of Yogic principles to the collective process allows him to formulate a theory of social progress and its vicissitudes that is equally indebted to Eastern and Western thought and experience. This original synthesis leads him to some striking perceptions, as when he writes: “A determined movement of reaction is evident in many parts of the world…. The attempt to go back to the old spirit is one of those necessary returns without which it cannot be so utterly exhausted as to be blotted out from the evolution.”[3]

Sri Aurobindo’s practice of an intensive Yogic discipline seems to have repeatedly confirmed this principle on the level of personal experience. Again and again he found that the stubbornness of the difficulties encountered when one tries to transform one’s nature with any thoroughness did not prove that it was impossible, but was due to the complexity and integrality of a process that has to deal not only with the surface of our being, but with forces of which we are not normally aware. In an entry in his diary, the Record of Yoga, on November 17, 1913, he generalized with regard to certain types of defects that when they show themselves “in exaggerated sensations out of all proportion to the reality” behind them, it is always a sign of their “failing power & approaching exhaustion; for the hostile forces, conscious of the failure, gather up & exhaust in an illegitimate endeavour all the forces which, properly used, might last for a longer season than that actually allotted to them.”[4] This observation was made in a limited context, but appears to have been deliberately phrased with a much wider application in mind.

In the next few years, Sri Aurobindo wrote most of his major works and published them serially in the monthly philosophical review, Arya. In some of these writings such as The Ideal of Human Unity and The Psychology of Social Development (later published in a revised form as The Human Cycle), he came back to the subject of collective progress and developed it in much greater depth than in his earlier essays in the Karmayogin. He was optimistic about humankind’s potential, but realistic about the obstacles to its realization. In June 1918, near the end of The Ideal of Human Unity, he wrote:

This material world of ours, besides its fully embodied things of the present, is peopled by… powerful shadows, ghosts of things dead and the spirit of things yet unborn. The ghosts of things dead are very troublesome actualities and they now abound…. Repeating obstinately their sacred formulas of the past, they hypnotise backward-looking minds and daunt even the progressive portion of humanity.[5]

Sri Aurobindo went on to speak not of the “ghosts of things dead” but of the “spirit of things yet unborn”. But thirty years later, in his final revision of The Ideal of Human Unity, he added “A Postscript Chapter” to bring the book up to date after the Second World War. Early in this chapter, which was to be one of his last writings, he returned to much the same point as he had originally made as far back as 1909. Reaffirming, in effect, the principle that “[t]he law is the same for the mass as for the individual”, he observed:

As in the practice of the spiritual science and art of Yoga one has to raise up the psychological possibilities which are there in the nature and stand in the way of its spiritual perfection and fulfilment so as to eliminate them, even, it may be, the sleeping possibilities which might arise in future to break the work that has been done, so too Nature acts with the world-forces that meet her on her way, not only calling up those which will assist her but raising too, so as to finish with them, those that she knows to be the normal or even the unavoidable obstacles which cannot but start up to impede her secret will. This one has often seen in the history of mankind; one sees it exampled today with an enormous force commensurable with the magnitude of the thing that has to be done. But always these resistances turn out to have assisted by the resistance much more than they have impeded the intention of the great Creatrix and her Mover.[6]

One of the most significant developments in the sixty years since this was written has been the outbreak of so-called fundamentalist movements all over the world. While Sri Aurobindo did not exactly predict that this would occur, he recognized the danger of “the repetition in old or new forms of a past mistake” with regard to religion, including the possibility of what he called graphically “some revival of blind fanatical obscurantist sectarian religionism”.[7] If this was one of “the sleeping possibilities which might arise in future to break the work that has been done”, perhaps Nature was wise to call it up “so as to finish with” it.

Today the revival of religious intolerance and obscurantism that seemed no more than a possibility when Sri Aurobindo mentioned it is an all too familiar reality commonly designated by the convenient, though problematic, label “fundamentalism”. The word itself has been the subject of much inconclusive debate. This is partly because it was coined in the context of early twentieth-century Protestant Christianity, but is now generally extended far beyond its original scope. According to some scholars who question the value and appropriateness of the term, fundamentalism is “just a dirty 14-letter word… levelled by liberals and Enlightenment rationalists against any group, religious or otherwise, that dares to challenge the absolutism of the post-Enlightenment outlook.”[8] But Malise Ruthven points out:

Words have a life and energy of their own that will usually defy the exacting demands of scholars…. Whatever technical objections there may be to using the F-word outside its original sphere, the phenomenon (or rather, the phenomena) it describes exists, although no single definition will ever be uncontested. Put at its broadest, it may be described as a religious way of being that manifests itself in a strategy by which beleaguered believers attempt to preserve their distinctive identities as individuals or groups in the face of modernity and secularization.[9]

Whatever problems there may be with defining the word and deciding where to apply it, fundamentalism is very much with us. Moreover, it is part of an even more widespread resurgence of religious conservatism of which fundamentalism is an extreme case. The former secularization theorist Peter Berger notes this in The Desecularization of the World, published in 1999 after he realized that the data contradicted his previous views about the inevitable decline of religion under the impact of modernization. As he observes: “On the international religious scene, it is conservative or orthodox or traditionalist movements that are on the rise almost everywhere.” Among sociologists of religion this startling development has given rise to what Berger calls ironically “the last-ditch thesis” of secularization theory. As he paraphrases it, what this thesis maintains is: “Modernization does secularize, and movements like the Islamic and the Evangelical ones represent last-ditch defenses by religion that cannot last: eventually, secularity will triumph….” Berger himself finds this thesis “singularly unpersuasive”.[10]

Now, this version of secularization theory has something in common with Sri Aurobindo’s assertion that there “is no place for rigid orthodoxy, whether Hindu, Mahomedan or Christian in the future. Those who cling to it, lose hold on life and go under….”[11] Sri Aurobindo would agree with the secularization theorists that the orthodox religiosity that has been making a comeback – perhaps because it provides a sense of security in a time of uncertainty – is a reversion to unsustainable traditionalism and its show of strength is a bluff. The main difference between his view and the secularization thesis is that according to Sri Aurobindo, what will prevail in the end is not secularity but spirituality. At first sight this may seem more far-fetched than secularization theory itself. Yet it is actually less vulnerable to the principal criticism that Berger directs at his own former colleagues.

Berger explains the reasons that led him and other scholars to change their minds about secularization theory:

The religious impulse, the quest for meaning that transcends the restricted space of empirical existence in this world, has been a perennial feature of humanity. (This is not a theological statement but an anthropological one – an agnostic or even an atheist philosopher may well agree with it.) It would require something close to a mutation of the species to extinguish this impulse for good. The more radical thinkers of the Enlightenment and their more recent intellectual descendants hoped for something like this, of course. So far it has not happened, and as I have argued, it is unlikely to happen in the foreseeable future. The critique of secularity common to all the resurgent movements is that human existence bereft of transcendence is an impoverished and finally untenable condition.[12]

Sri Aurobindo would have approved of most of this statement, though for reasons that are neither theological nor anthropological and might not be acceptable to an atheist. But according to him, it is not the revival of past orthodoxies or the invention of new ones that will lead humanity to the transcendence for which it yearns. He keenly appreciated the role of the European Enlightenment and went so far as to write: “A temporary reign of the critical reason largely destructive in its action is an imperative need for human progress.”[13] But he saw this as only a stage, and one that we are now preparing to leave behind – though it might be unwise to try to do so prematurely, before its work is complete. A theme that pervades Sri Aurobindo’s writings is the irresistible forward march of Time towards a goal that is beyond anything we can now conceive or imagine and perhaps will always recede into infinity. In one of his earliest published essays he wrote:

In all movements, in every great mass of human action it is the Spirit of the Time, that which Europe calls the Zeitgeist and India Kala, who expresses himself…. When the Zeitgeist, God in Time, moves in a settled direction, then all the forces of the world are called in to swell the established current towards the purpose decreed. That which consciously helps, swells it, but that which hinders swells it still more, and like a wave on the windswept Ocean, now rising, now falling, now high on the crest of victory and increase, now down in the troughs of discouragement and defeat, the impulse from the hidden Source sweeps onward to its preordained fulfilment. Man may help or man may resist, but the Zeitgeist works, shapes, overbears, insists.[14]


Notes


[1]  Sri Aurobindo, Essays in Philosophy and Yoga, vol. 13 of The Complete Works of Sri Aurobindo(Pondicherry: Sri Aurobindo Ashram, 1998), p. 33.

[2]  Ibid., p. 35.

[3]  Ibid., p. 36.

[4]  Sri Aurobindo, Record of Yoga (Pondicherry: Sri Aurobindo Ashram, 2001), p. 316.

[5]  Sri Aurobindo, The Ideal of Human Unity (Pondicherry: Sri Aurobindo Ashram, 1998), p. 294.

[6]  Ibid., pp. 310–11.

[7]  Sri Aurobindo, Letters on Yoga: Part One (Pondicherry: Sri Aurobindo Ashram, 1971), p. 198.

[8]  Malise Ruthven, Fundamentalism: A Very Short Introduction (New York: Oxford University Press, 2007), p. 5.

[9]  Ibid., pp. 5–6.

[10] Peter Berger, ed., The Desecularization of the World: Resurgent Religion and World Politics (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans, 1999), pp. 6, 12.

[11] Letter of 23 February 1932, published in Bulletin of Sri Aurobindo International Centre of Education, vol. 52, no. 1 (February 2000), p. 80.

[12] Ibid., p. 13.

[13] Sri Aurobindo, The Human Cycle (Pondicherry: Sri Aurobindo Ashram, 1998), pp. 26–27.

[14] Sri Aurobindo, Essays in Philosophy and Yoga, p. 29.

From Sage to Simulacrum: Sri Aurobindo a Photographic Essay ….rc

From Sage to Simulacrum: Sri Aurobindo a Photographic Essay

R. Carlson

 

The photograph is literally an emanation of the referent. From a real body, which was there, proceed rations, which ultimately touch me, who is here, the duration of the transmission is insignificant; the photograph of the missing being will touch me like the delayed beams of a star. …. Roland Barthes Camera Lucidia

From time to time images of others, portraits, are indeed able to usurp reality because a photograph while an interpretation of the real; it is also a trace, something directly stenciled off the real, like a footprint or a death mask. While a painting, even one that meets photographic standards of resemblance, never does more than state an interpretation, a photograph never does less than register an emanation’ (light waves reflected by objects)—a material vestige of its subject in a way that no painting can be. ….“Susan Sontag”, On Photography

To take a photograph is to align the head, the eye and the heart. It’s a way of life”
…. Henri Cartier-Bresson

“I have never seen a man like this he was absolutely immobile.”..
…Henri Cartier-Bresson after photographing Sri Aurobindo

Emanation

Every photograph is both an absence and a presence, temporally displaced yet spatial immediate, false on the level of perception, but true on the level of time, an image trace whose absent referent is indexed in a coming to presence of something that once was there. Roland Barthes called it a temporal hallucination whose “noeme” is the transmissible thought-image whose “eidos” is death, or perhaps our being toward death.

In meditating on a photograph of his deceased mother Barthes reflected “we can be certain that the image will outlive the subject, whose photograph lingers long after her death”.  But more than this the photograph represents a certain kind of death as a subject undergoes transformation into an object.

The process of reification that transforms a specific instance into a permanent image is a process in which the subject becomes a specter. Other than as a photographic image, the only other time that one can be viewed solely as an object is when one achieves the status of a corpse.  “Ultimately, what I am seeking in the photograph taken of me (the “intention” according to which I look at it) is Death: Death is the eidos of that Photograph.” (Barthes)

For Barthes a photograph involved three different phenomena, a simulacrum, a spectrum, and the return of the dead.

“The person or thing photographed is the target, the referent, a kind of little simulacrum, any eidolon emitted by the object, which I should like to call the Spectrum of the Photograph, because this word retains, through its root, a relation to “spectacle” and adds to it that rather terrible thing which is there in every photograph: the return of the dead. (Barthes)

Before considering the simulacrum and spectrum we will remain with death for now specifically, how it relates to memory. It is interesting that Barthes uses the term “the return of the dead” rather than the memory of the dead because even if it reveals the past with precise detail a photograph is scarcely a memory.  In fact there is a question as to whether images and memory can co-exist at all. Images interrupt memory’s work turning eidetic imagination inside out. .  “Not only is the photograph never, in essence, a memory… but it actually blocks memory, quickly becomes a counter-memory” (Barthes)

Among concerns that this raises critical questions regards to what extent the fabricated idols/eidolon of any technological milieu can replace internal memory. When one relies on photographs for memory, one performs a McLuhanian flip and an outering of the sensorium occurs. In this sensory “outering”, a technological extension necessitates a biological atrophy. When a new technology takes on the task that was previously done manually or mentally that particular biological/brain function falls into disuse and slowly begins to atrophy.

While McLuhan instances the processes of automation and mass media, this is also precisely the phenomena that King Thamus of Egypt warned against when presented with the gift of writing from the god Thoth, as a recipe for memory and wisdom. Thamus responds that writings true effects are likely to be the opposite; it is a remedy for reminding, not remembering, he says, while it gives the appearance it is not really wisdom. “Future generations will hear much without being properly taught, and will appear wise but not be so, making them difficult to get along with”(Plato). In Plato’s retelling of this tale writing is considered to be external to our internal memory.  We could take this same lesson and apply it to photography and memory.

But, while Plato argument seems convincing, Jacques Derrida in interrogating this dialog in Phaedrus demonstrates that Plato also has to admit that writing penetrates to the core of memory, that it infects memory as a supplement.  “Memory always needs signs in order to recall the non-present, with which it is necessarily in relation”. (Derrida) As a supplement a photograph can spark memory in a way that can facilitate recall or realization.

When the spectators consciousness coincides with the instance of the light spectrum that comes to presence in the chemical reactions on a photosensitive negative, memory is augmented by a unique supplement, a true image of the referent. If one brings to the photographic encounter a certain reverie for the objectivity of these supplemental images a new category of space-time opens, one of spatial immediacy and temporal displacement.  While one may question the effect on memory this process can allow one to participate in a mythical presencing of a subject over time.

The space-time of a photograph poses new questions to our understanding of temporality  and presence that boarder on the metaphysical. Barthes even compares photographs to “mediums” who put us in touch with the world of deceased people and things. Barthes study of photographs was not only critical but also phenomenological. He believed that the “noeme” of photography – its essence or thought-image – are its transmissible packets of self-referential thought that reveal what materially “has been”.

The phenomena that began in 1837 with the daguerreotype invented by Louis Daguerre who created an image on silver-plated copper, coated with silver iodide and “developed” with warmed mercury constituted a rupture with the past, “Since that moment of the first photographic image a door opened between worlds and a parallel universe of captured time began to flood across boundaries erected by the language of written symbols.” (Stiegler)

In the early 20th century the Surrealist used photographic images to open portals to the uncanny. Their photographs allow entrance into alternate realities, rendering uncharted regions of the unconscious, assessable through art. In constructing their photographs they favored natural images, objects with real referents rather than, retouched photographs.  The real image was thought to be better vehicles for accessing the chaotic semiotic reality underlying our own.

Man Ray

(Man Ray used the photogram method and solarization photography methods to create his works. A photogram is created without a camera. The subject is laid directly on the paper and then exposed to light and developed. Solarization was used to create a surreal effect in his photographs.)

In his 1920 essay on Max Ernst, André Breton 1920 refers to automatic writing as “a camera of poetry, a blind instrument for recording a landscape to which no human effort can add a single new element”. (Sontag) In the juxtaposition of surrealist imagery one encounters fragments of worlds whose contours thrust images at us violently that puncture our gaze.

“Photography has powers that no other image-system has ever enjoyed because, unlike the earlier ones, it is not dependent on an image-maker. However carefully the photographer intervenes in setting up and guiding the image-making process, the process itself remains an optical-chemical (or electronic) one, the workings of which are automatic. Its machinery will inevitably be improved to provide still more detailed and, therefore, more useful maps of the real. The mechanical genesis of these images, and the literalness of the powers they confer, amounts to a new relationship between image and reality. And if photography could also be said to restore the most primitive relationship—the partial identity of image and object—the potency of the image is now experienced in a very different way. The primitive notion of the efficacy of images presumes that images possess the qualities of real things, but our inclination is to attribute to real things the qualities of an image.” (Sontag)

If primitives often fear photographs it is because of the encounter with the spectral image, the haunting presence of an absent referent, whose light emanations remain.  Bergson says, ”the conscious present is the condensing of the entire past” if so, then what allows an image to live in the present is the displacement of temporality as a light spectrum from the past settles onto an immobile photographic surface.

“The instant of the snap coincides with the instance of what is snapped and it is this co-incidence of two instances that the basis of the possibility of a conjuncture of past and reality allowing for a transfer of the photographs immobility in which the spectators consciousness coincides with the appearance of the spectrum. “(Stiegler)

It is from the photographs haunting immobility that primitives withdraw, fearful of being photographed and having ones soul imprisoned in the photographic image. Here we will flip the question and rather than consider soul stealing will explore whether the two dimensional photographic surface could serve as a vehicle for soul revealing?

If photography is a technology of objectivity it is also a technology of aesthetics and the question that can be asked is one posed by Thomas Mann in 1928:  “Technologization of the aesthetic—it certainly sounds bad, it resonates with decay and the downfall of the soul. But what if, even as the soulful falls victim to the technical, the technical becomes ensouled?”(Mann/Downing)

Immobility

When asked to pose for a photograph in1940 Sri Aurobidno responded “plenty of people have proposed that before” (Heehs) It would be another decade until Henri Cartier-Bresson arrived in Pondicherry before he finally agreed. The encounter was short and as intense as it was unique as one of India’s greatest yogis met one of the great photographers of the 20th century. As described by Robi Ganguli who accompanied Cartier-Bresson to Sri Aurobndo’s room “after his ten minutes of shooting he was perspiring and visibly agitated, when asked how it went? with elation he replied “I have never seen a man like this he was absolutely immobile.” (Ganguli)

Aurobindo was born in India but raised in England where he had been sent by his Anglophile father to be educated. He graduated from Kings College of Cambridge University where he studied the classics of Western Civilization and won prizes for Greek and Latin poetry. He could read and write in multiple European and Indian languages. Culturally he was a cosmopolitan figure with certain literary and philosophical affinities to Arnold, Nietzsche, Bergson, Tagore.

After graduating from Kings College he returned to India but rather than becoming a privileged member of the British Indian Civil Service (ICS) he embarked on a rediscovery of his Indian heritage.  He immersed himself in India’s indigenous spiritual traditions and the practice of Yoga. His will to cultural and self-discovery transformed him into both a yogi and a revolutionary who fought against the foreign powers occupying India. It did not take long for him to find himself on trail for his life on charges of treason.

As the 20th century began Sri Aurobindo became one of the first leaders of the revolutionary movement in India against British occupation that would eventually result in its independence. In response to the injustices of the Raj he advocated insurrection and led a resistance movement in Bengal whose armed tactics conferred upon him the status of terrorist.

As an author he took on the task of marshaling the heroic spirit of self-determination that had languished on the subcontinent after centuries of occupation and its subjugation to foreign powers. But, he was equally as critical of India’s malaise and its caste system, whose injustices he renounced vehemently. He also wrote and edited one of the key early journals of the independence struggle called “Bande Matram”, whose name invoked the goddess Durga, slayer of demons. The British considered the publication most dangerous and constantly monitored it for seditious activity.

Aurobindo was eventually arrested, placed in solitary confinement and put on trail for his life on the charge of treason, of waging war against the King. While in his cell he claims to have heard the voice of another one of India’s great cultural and spiritual figures Swami Vivekananda. The voice he heard promised him that India would be free and so summoned him to pursue the path of yoga.

His decision to dedicate his life to a process of spiritual transformation had begun while in a solitary cell nine feet by five feet that had no windows. In front stood iron bars and a hole in a wooden door beyond a small stony courtyard. When he finally stood trail he silently looked out from his courtroom cage but his vision had been entirely transformed. The judge, jury, the prosecuting attorney appeared to him as divine forms of the gods Vasudeva, Narayan and Krsna. He lost all fear that they could do him any harm and was eventually acquitted of all charges.

After he was freed he received an inner calling to go to the French territory of Pondicherry in South India. There he could avoid further British harassment although they still pestered the French to keep close watch on him. The French surveillance of him did not last long however, when the Chief of Police suddenly walked in and found there were Latin and Greek books lying about on his desk, he was so taken aback that he could only blurt out, “Il sait du latin, il sait du grec!” — “He knows Latin, he knows Greek!” — and then he left with all his men. How could a man who knew Latin and Greek ever commit any mischief?(Purani)

He was subsequently left in peace. Having been given an inner assurance that India would he now began to seriously embark on the practice of yoga (sadhana). It was a practice that he believed had evolutionary implications, both for himself and for the nation. He was one of the first voices to speak of an evolution of consciousness.

The first step of his yogic practice includes achieving perfect stillness, or the silencing of thought in attaining a nirvanic state. Aurobindo’s yoga is called “purna” or “integral yoga”. The aim of his yoga does not end at nirvana but rather, uses the experience of nirvana as a foundation for a spiritual practice that aims at synthesizing knowledge, devotion, works in a project of immanent transformation, in which the yogi functions as a physical laboratory at the vanguard of species evolution.

In 1926 after having experienced a “siddhi” -a Sanskrit noun that can be translated as “perfection”, “accomplishment”, “attainment”, or “success – in ones yogic practice- he retired completely into his residence in Pondicherry until he died in 1950.

Aurobindo’s main activities during the period of his retreat involved walking meditation and writing, mostly hundreds of letters to those spiritual seekers who sought his counsel. He did however continue to meet with a close circle of followers and would occasionally entertain such notable guests as the Nobel prize winning author Rabindranath Tagore who wrote of him “India will speak through your voice to the world, Hearken to me”

His presence is described by those few who visited him during the period of his retreat in terms of the sheer force of its silent immobility that could be felt throughout his entire room.  One person describes being in his presence in Heideggerian terms of being “geared up” or prepared. In this case, the preparation was for a transition from man to superman.

By first insisting on a silent mind and perfect equanimity integral yoga begins with the deconstruction of thoughts that intruded into consciousness. One comes to spontaneously see how thoughts are generated outside oneself and enter the mind conditioned by culture, history and desire. By detaching oneself from the compunction of desire one gains freedom to perfect action in the world. But perfected action began with the cultivation of a silent mind as a solvent for the world’s disturbances.

His spiritual collaborator Mirra Alfassa once describes racing to his room to close the windows during one of the raging typhoons that often hit southern India. Although the Ashram buildings were being pummeled by gale force winds with torrential rain and the compound was in disarray when she arrived in his room the window was wide open but, everything inside was perfectly still, all she found was the lone figure of Sri Aurobindo immobile in silent meditation.

Although he may have maintained an immobile poise Sri Aurobindo was reluctant to remain still for a posed photograph.  In fact, -and for good reason as we shall see- he does not seem to have been drawn to photographs at all. While many pictures were taken of him when he was a public figure between 1906-1910, only about ten photographs exists that were taken between 1910-1926 when he withdrew to dedicate himself to yogic practice. (Heehs) In 1940 when asked to allow himself to be photographed Sri Aurobindo responded “plenty of people have proposed that before”.

There were no photographs taken of him after that time until 1950 when Henri Cartier-Bresson visited Pondicherry and asked permission to take his picture. The photographs Cartier-Bresson took were the first ones taken in approximately twenty-five years and are the last ones we have of Sri Aurobindo prior to his death in December of that year. The only ones taken of him after that were those taken after he had left his body as he lay in the crystal blue silence of samadhi.

Perhaps Aurobindo intuited something in Cartier-Bresson who viewed photography in much the same integral terms as Sri Aurobindo did his yoga”, he wrote photograph, “is putting one’s head, one’s eye and one’s heart on the same axis.”  When we look at his portraits, that head-eye-heart relationship is especially evident.”

Cartier-Bresson saw the world in terms of light and the reverie of form in which he declared; “in all this chaos, there is order” and through this process we are left to “to revel in the pure pleasure of form”. Although he trafficked in the singularity of the photographic images he also was a cinematic collaborator with famed director Jean Renoir on three films. He was “an artist who sees himself an artisan but who nevertheless established Magnum, the most prestigious of all photo agencies, and who immortalized his major contemporaries: Mauriac in a state of mystical levitation, Giacometti, Sartre, Faulkner or Camus, and as many more all taken at the decisive moment, all portraits for eternity.” (Assouline)

During his lifetime Cartier-Bresson witnessed some of the centuries most tumultuous events. Through his camera he captured some of the great social movements of the era, the tragedy of the Spanish Civil War, the joyous liberation of Paris, Mohandas Gandhi just hours before his assassination, Mao’s liberated China.

In the midst of all these events Cartier-Bresson approached photography by stilling the mind as a yogi or more precisely as a Zen archer would do. During this process the photographer like the archer perfects technical acumen by first emptying consciousness of all thought in surrender of the self to the process of perfecting the shot.

The archer starts with attentive practice by slowly drawing the bowstring backwards. Because if the arrow is properly drawn the archer is no longer conscious of herself, she gazes at the target while emptying consciousness of content and self as attention is enrapt in the “other”, in the target. It is a process that readies the string so once released it sets the arrow on a prefect trajectory.

“The archer ceases to be conscious of himself as the one who is engaged in hitting the bull’s-eye which confronts him. This state of unconscious is realized only when, completely empty and rid of the self, he becomes one with the perfecting of his technical skill, though there is in it something of a quite different order which cannot be attained by any progressive study of the art…” (Herrigel)

To Cartier-Bresson the camera was an “instrument of intuition and spontaneity –the master of the instant which in visual terms questions and decides simultaneously” Like the Zen archer Cartier Bresson’s process involved silencing the mind before engaging the photographic act, when his finger triggered the shutter, all thought was stilled as the Zen photographer targeted his subject with an arrow of light.

When he shot a portrait he looked for an inner silence. He said “I seek to translated the personality not expression”. The force of photography is that it prolongs instants which the normal flow of time immediately closes. This freezing of time—the insolent, poignant stasis of each photograph—is what produces beauty To take a photograph means to recognize – simultaneously and within a fraction of a second– both the fact itself and the rigorous organization of visually perceived forms that give it meaning. As Cartier-Bresson said It is putting one’s head, one’s eye, and one’s heart on the same axis. (Magnum Photos)

If there was any photographer qualified to take photographs of Sri Aurobindo it was Henri Cartier Bresson.

The photographs that Cartier Bresson took of Sri Aurobindo reveal an almost uncanny immobility in its subject. They reveal a perfectly composed Sri Aurobindo with one eye serenely looking into the camera and the other as if gazing inward into the depths of some other hidden world. Many of Sri Aurobindo followers use these pictures to facilitate meditation and as a vehicle of darshan.

 

Sri Aurobindo by Henri Cartier-Bresson 1950 (original images)

Darshan

If the photograph is employed as a darshanic image it is to facilitate a direct transference of the master consciousness into the aspirants own meditative state via a gaze that pierces its subject like an arrow. This form of wisdom transmission has a long history on the subcontinent stretching back to its ancient religious and philosophical traditions.

“In everyday language, darshan means “to see.”  But there are also specialized meanings to the word darshan.  Darshan also means spiritual philosophy.  All the schools of philosophy in India are known as darshans.  And thirdly, darshan is an encounter with an icon or a guru.   Darshan involves a form of non-dual seeing.   To arrive at this point, however, we must first acknowledge the fact that we start from dualistic phenomenal experience. In our experience is one of an ‘I’ and a ‘thou’, there is always that separation. There is a plurality of beings that are encountering one another. In the encounter with the icon or with the guru, the encounter of darshan too, we start with a dualism:  two states of consciousness encountering one another.  But eventually there is an overcoming of that duality, and this is the moment of darshan”. (Banerji)

Darshan is a hierophany, a revelation of the sacred gathered from, a direct seeing of and being seen by the divine in the form of an icon or guru. Traditionally darshan involves a personal audience with the guru or icon but with the evolution of technology a photograph or even a digital image (cyber-darshan) can stand in for the guru or icon. Since a photograph consists of traces of actual photons that reflect off the guru its use is seen as most appropriate.  As Barthes reminds us the photograph is literally an emanation of the referent.

Barthes splits the effect of the photograph into two aspects that he calls the studium and the punctum. The studium is the socially coded value of the photograph. It is its cultural, and political interpretation of the whole photograph that we tacitly interpret whenever we see it. Studium is the element that creates interest in how the photographer has composed the photograph.  By decoding the image we as spectators experience the photographers intention.  Culture is perhaps the most important reference within studium, as Barthes says ‘it is culturally that I participate in the figures, the faces, the gestures, the settings, the actions,’


Studium

In contrast the punctum refers to that particular portion of the photograph that has personal meaning; that “stings us”, that punctures our attention. This may or may not have been part of the photographer’s intention but rather it is that visual attractor that draws our gaze toward on a particular feature, face or form within the image. It is that part of the photograph that reaches out and pricks ones eyes with a form that we invest with personal meaning, The punctum allows us to establishes a direct relationship with the referent within the picture. It is that event horizon on the still photographic surface that reverses the flow of time between image and viewer to facilitate an affective connection.

“The punctum, then, is a kind of subtle beyond – as if the image launched desire beyond what it permits us to see: not only toward “the rest” of the nakedness, not only toward the fantasy of a praxis, but toward the absolute excellence of a being, body and soul together  it is this element which rises from the scene, shoots out of it like an arrow, and pierces me “ (Barthes)

(Punctum)

The posed photograph facilitates a self-encounter within the subject photographed, which opens her up to the camera in such a way that the punctum can emerge from the individual’s psyche itself. The pose in a photograph for however brief an instant punctures time with the intentionality of the subject as she assumes complicity in her transformation into an object fashions duration to crystallize a time-image.

If the interchange of darshan occurs within the immobility of a photograph it would be within its punctum, in the personal space where the delayed star beams of its subject evoke emotional meaning for the viewer. The punctum in the photographs taken by Cartier-Bresson of Aurobindo are usually reported by followers as located in his gaze.

Sri Aurobindo by Henri Cartier-Bresson (original)

Unfortunately, in the case of these photographs Sri Aurobindo suspicion of photographs of himself was bore out when  –without the photographer’s permission- some were juxtaposed with unflattering captions in the British periodical The Illustrated  (Jan 1951) and satirized in the German magazine Heute (Nov 1950).

The Aurobindo Ashram wound up buying the negatives of the photographs. It was unprecedented that Cartier-Bresson agreed to sell, because both he and the artistic corporation that owned the rights to his photographs Magnum Photos had a strict policy prohibiting sale of negatives.

The Aurobindo Ashram paid three thousand dollars in 1951 for the photographs. It was an astronomical fee for the time yet, they would in turn churn out thousands of copies of these photographs over the next sixty years and that would make them a tidy profit,

Although Cartier-Bresson’s original photographs of Sri Aurobindo were successful in conveying his immobile presence, after his death some of Aurobindo’s more “geared up” followers in Pondicherry would retouch some of his negatives before circulating copies for distribution and sale. In these photographs suddenly a white halo or aura emanates from the serenely framed white clad, white haired, white bearded figure of Sri Aurobindo.


Sri Aurobindo by Henri Cartier-Bresson (retouched with aura)

Aura

In the context of one of the major works on photography it is ironic to think that the reproduction of Sri Aurobindo’s photographs would be framed by an aura, because it is precisely the erosion of “aura” in the reproduction of photographs that is Walter Benjamin’s subject in Art in an Age of Mechanical Reproduction.

Painting Sri Aurobindo’s images with an aura was done to suggest a certain excess of presence, a force of physical manifestation. For Benjamin an aura also suggests an excess of presence. Although for him this presence occurs through the historical testimony given by an artwork such as a painting or sculpture that is embedded in a culture or tradition. Benjamin saw in the photograph, an artwork in which presence was diminished, whose aura was eroded through its mechanical reproduction.

During the years before World War II while Sri Aurobindo was still in self-exile practicing his supra-mental yoga, struggling inwardly to free a new nation in the waning days of the Raj and Henri Cartier-Bresson was in Spain documenting the tragedies of the Spanish Civil War, Walter Benjamin was living penniless in France; the specter of the Third Reich looming, contemplating his own future self-exile. In 1936 he wrote Das Kunstwerk im Zeitalter seiner technischen Reproduzierbarkeit, Art in an Age of Mechanical Reproduction. In it he interrogates the mass production of art works, the proliferation of image that through photography and cinema had become the commodity form of what Horkheimer and Adorno in1944 called the Culture Industries that were emerging in America and Western Europe.

In his essay Benjamin compares a painting to a photograph. He argues that a painting or sculpture is obviously reliant on an original object whose materially provides historical  testimony of its existence within a culture and tradition.  In contrast a photograph is not dependent on a fixed object within a specific temporal sequence or spatial coordinate and therefore succeeds through the economics of mass reproduction.

A photograph undermines the authority of an original by replacing it with a copy. A photographic negative -more so the digital image- can produce limitless identical copies and for all practical purpose any copy can stand in for the original. The event of the invention of photography made possible the capture, copying, and circulation of an image of time. In the wake of this event two thousand years of Platonic metaphysics of forms began to flip. Susan Sontag writes:

“Since Plato philosopher’s tried to shed the dependence on images for interpreting reality in authoring an image free way to apprehend the real. “But when, in the mid-nineteenth century, the standard seemed finally attainable, the retreat of the old religious and political illusions before the advance of humanistic and scientific thinking did not—as anticipated—create mass defections to the real. On the contrary, in the new age of unbelief the allegiance to images was strengthened. The credence that could no longer be given to realities understood in the form of images was now being given to realities understood to be images, illusions.

In the preface to the second edition (1844) of The Essence of Christianity, Feuerbach observes that “our era” “prefers the image to the thing, the copy to the original, the representation to the reality, appearance to being”—while being aware of these preferences. And his premonitory complaint has been transformed in the twentieth century into a widely agreed on diagnosis: that a society becomes “modern” when one of its chief activities is producing and consuming images, when images that have extraordinary powers to determine our demands upon reality, and are themselves coveted substitutes for firsthand experience, become indispensable to the health of the economy, the stability of the polity, and the pursuit of private happiness.

Feuerbach’s words—he is writing a few years after the invention of the camera—seem, more specifically, a presentiment of the impact of photography. For the images that have virtually unlimited authority in a modern society are mainly photographic images; and the scope of that authority stems from the properties peculiar to images taken by cameras.”(Sontag)

While photographs may carry more authority in a hyper-modern civilization to Benjamin aura is the cost for of authority. In tracing the erosion of “aura” and the loss of the real to a proliferation of copies, Benjamin understands the rupture that is underway as historical testimony shifts from reality to the strange cultural attractor of simulation. In contrasting paintings to photographs Benjamin finds that while both painting and photograph are representations, a painting is a cultural artifact, whose materiality allows it to be located within a ritualized collective space. Historically this collective space can be traced back from museum and cathedral to the caves that housed our earliest ritual apprehension of paintings.

To experience art is to encounter presence, in which the distance from its creation in time is overcome by the immediacy of the artist’s intentions and that like photograph’s pose, fashions duration to crystallize a time-image. To locate oneself inside a specific cultural space that facilitates a ritual apprehension of the object is to experience an artworks materiality. This phenomenological dimension of art we share with nature and its natural object such as a mountain, whose presence over eons is sustained before us.  Similarly, the aura of an artwork envelops us in its cultural essence and inscribes in us its historicity.

This experience of aura could also be found in early photography or the daguerreotype that produced only singular originals. But, the discovery by Maddox, of an emulsion of gelatin and silver bromide on glass to create the “dry plate” process in 1871 coupled with the Eastman Kodak’s corporation’s pricing and production strategies resulted in the availability of cameras for the masses and easily reproducible images fin de siècle.

In the 20th century photography accelerated its subversion of the dominant cultural logic since Plato, which privileged the singularity of the original or the “true form”” over its copy. With the widespread deployment of affordable cameras mass produced photographic copies would increasingly replace “true form” as ritualized space collapsed under the zero-weight of simulation.

In an age of mass production aura erodes with the public space that surrounds art. As the image draws closer to us the photograph or phonogram circulate for private viewing or listening. As the mass produced artwork draws closer to us it infiltrates (un)consciousness in ways that an object with aura would not, since the very presence of aura envelops the object with a distancing effect, that sustains its singularity. Mass produced artworks however more often are culturally assigned an entertainment value and are absorbed uncritically into our imagination.

This colonization of the imagination by the Culture Industries accelerates with the circulation of globalization’s commodity fetishism. When the copy replaces original and false consciousness replaces true witness the function of art is reversed.  The effect on consciousness is hypnotic as original is replaced by copy, and then copy is replaced by copy as the process re-doubles until what remains is a copy that lacks any original referent.  This makes it easier to employ images as efficient frictionless commodities with increasing propaganda value.

The positive value of photography Benjamin found in two ways, in its phatasmagoric function and in its location within the family tradition. In the former Benjamin believed that photography could bear witness to the ills of economic barbarism in such a way as to awaken us from our everyday stupor. As a phantasmagoric witness to the worst excess of mass culture the camera’s power resides in its very objectivity and its ways of capturing “fleeting and secret images”. The critical eye of the camera allows the inequalities of society to be revealed. He specifically references Eugene Atget’s photographs of crime and vacant Paris streets which “wiped off the mask [off the bourgeois profession of photographer] and then set about removing the makeup from reality too”(Benjamin) .

Eugene Atget – Paris

Ironically, one consequence of aura’s demise in mass culture is in the camera’s very ability to reveal the demise. Benjamin believed the camera has a critical eye for detail that no observer can claim because it portrays society in ways that enable the viewer to deconstruct its façade to wipe its mask off. This is what he calls the phantasmagoric characterized by fantastic imagery and incongruous juxtapositions of realistic images that are also found in surreal art and literature.

These shadows and images reveal what otherwise we would blind to. The photographs prefect objectivity bears witness to the illusionary reality we inhabit as citizens and reveals our collective bad faith. “In the image it produces it reveal that which to us in everyday life as natural, is in reality socially constructed and destructive” (Benjamin)

Aside from photography’s potential for objectively bearing witness to the ills of society, there was one form in which Benjamin believed that photography sustained aura and that was in the tradition of the family photograph or album.  Benjamin believed that aura persisted in family photographs because in viewing a photograph of a family member especially, a deceased relative one interns oneself in a relationship to the person in which ones own gaze preserves ones own historical identity within the narrative of a family.

In this respect the photographs of Sri Aurobindo can be said to be handed down within a family tradition. That is if one considers an Ashram a kind of family, which seems reasonable given one often discards ones worldly identity when entering an Ashram or a Monastery. This is particularly true within the Aurobindo Ashram whose patriarchal figure can be found in Sri Aurobindo and whose Mother is so named in the person of his spiritual collaborator Mira Alfassa. The Ashramites often hail one another as brother and sister, aunt or uncle.  In this way the photographs of Sri Aurobindo, are certainly handed down and cared for within the context of a family.

In this context Benjamin’s critique supports a photograph’s authenticity in sustaining aura within a close intentional community, such as an Ashram. However, it remains to be interrogated how much further we are distanced from the real or original presence when the legacy of patriarch is sustained through the creation of an aura by artificial means. Because it is precisely here when the original referent disappears that a simulacrum begins to orient collective life.

The photos by Cartier-Bresson taken in 1950 were not the first to be retouched, earlier photos from the period between 1910-1926 when Sri Aurobindo allowed photographs to be taken also were retouched by followers.

Copies of photographs taken during this period were later sold to devotees some of whom commented “that the Sri Aurobindo that they saw at darshan looked quite different.” (Heehs) In retrospect it is not surprising they made this observation.

One of the most interesting things about the negative reception among the Sri Aurobindo Ashram community to the recent biography The Lives of Sri Aurobindo by Peter Heehs has to do with the actual photograph with which the author chose to represent Sri Aurobindo on its cover.

In the photograph Sri Aurobindo heroically posed stares unflinchingly into the camera, his dark brown eyes shine with the fire of a revolutionary his face radiates with the tranquil composure of a yogi. It was an image that the author admitted his fondness for while seeming perplexed that others would prefer a retouched version of the photograph.

Sri Aurobindo Circa 1920 (original)

 

Sri Aurobindo (retouched)

About the retouched photograph -whose original no longer exists-  Heehs writes: “There is hardly a trace of shadow between the ears, with the result that the face has no character. The sparkling eyes have been painted in, even the hair has been given a gloss. As a historical document it is false.” (Heehs)

Susan Sontag in her essay Photography: The Beauty Treatment, gives us a brief history of the retouched photograph

“People want the idealized image: a photograph of themselves looking their “best.” They feel rebuked when the camera doesn’t return an image of themselves as more attractive than they really are. But few are lucky enough to be “photogenic”—that is, to look better in photographs (even when not made-up or flattered by special lighting) than in real life. That photographs are often praised for their candor, their honesty, indicates that most photographs, of course, are not candid. A decade after the Englishman Fox Talbot’s negative-positive process had begun replacing the French daguerreotype in the early 1840s, a German photographer invented the first technique for retouching the negative. His two versions of the same portrait—one retouched, the other not—astounded crowds at the World Exposition held in Paris in 1855 (one of the earliest worlds, and the first with a photography exhibit). The news that the camera could lie made getting photographed much more popular.” (Sontag)

That some who pledge allegiance to Sri Aurobindo were offended that Heehs would choose a photograph that is striking in its stark naturalism, while preferring the widely circulated touched up photo is startling given Sri Aurobindo’s unsparing commitment to truth telling. The fact that the book’s detractors would prefer to replace the original representation, that captured the actual photons that emanated from his body, in favor of an image that was retouched, that is in essence an artistic rendition testifies to the power of the floating signifier to unconsciously structure conscious perceptions and to transpose the “mana” of a belief system into “floating chains of signifieds” that becomes the “doxa” of the community. But is the difference between the original and the retouched images simply a matter of preferring an image faithful to the truth to one that is a historical lie?

Retouching a photograph is a way for a photographer or whoever the customer is to regain control over the subject. In the posed portrait photograph “the subject’s psychological experience of self and the physical manifestation of this experience on the face and the body are one of the few elements outside of the photographer’s control.” (Espinosa)

The history of photography is already full of images that have been manipulated in some way or other. In fact now we realize that even the naturalist image is also an intentionally manipulated one that is specifically framed and constructed by the photographer through his cultural and historical orientation as well as through the physical constraints in fixing an artistic gaze through a camera lens. In early photography retouching portrait photographs was a common practice but today in the age of Photoshop it is ubiquitous. The ability for almost anyone to manipulate and reproduce countless images and transmit them globally at light speed is part of the evolution of photography since Benjamin, Aurobindo, Cartier-Bresson.

The effect on consciousness has been hypnotic as the manipulated original is increasingly  replaced by a copy, the copy by another copy, until what remains is a copy that lacks any original referent whatsoever.  This makes it easy to employ images as an efficient frictionless commodity form with an exponentially accelerating propaganda value. When reality disappears into simulation, Plato’s “theory of forms” flips into the post-human dawn rising under the sign of the simulacrum.

Before going further it is important to define two terms:

Simulation: “the action or practice of simulating, with an intent to deceive,” then as “a false assumption or display, a surface resemblance or imitation, of something,” and finally as “the technique of imitating the behavior of some situation or process…by means of a suitably analogous situation or apparatus” (OED online)
Simulacrum: “a material image, made as a representation of some deity, person, or thing,” as “something having merely the form or appearance of a certain thing, without possessing its substance or proper qualities,” and as “a mere image, a specious imitation or likeness, of something” (OED online).

“A simulation is a process whose intent is to deceive. Like the simulation, the simulacrum bears a resemblance to the thing that it imitates only on the surface level but as opposed to the simulation’s mimicry of a process or situation, the simulacrum is defined as a static entity, a “mere image” rather than something that “imitat[es] the behavior” of the real thing on which it is based.” (Sandoz)

In tracing the erosion of aura Walther Benjamin was working in an age in which the mass reproduction of images had just begun. Benjamin began his work on art and mechanical reproduction well before World War II, during the age of radio. He applied both an aesthetic and critical interrogation of the technical and economic apparatus that was employed by the emerging entertainment and cultural industries in “mechanically” proliferating images as commodity forms.

Simulacrum

Jean Baudrillard writing in the age of satellite television and the internet theorizes the “technological” (cybernetic) proliferation of images. What begins in Benjamin’s concern with modernity’s mass reproduction of photographic images becomes in the post-modern concerns of Baudrillard the fact that the “copy” no longer has any “real” referent whatsoever in the world; it is an image without an original. In Baudrillard’s view the current age is one in which the real is replaced by the hyper-real.

Lets extend Bernard Stiegler earlier quote on photography:

“In that moment of the first photographic image a door opened between worlds and a parallel universe of captured time began to flood across boundaries erected by the language of written symbols.

he continues:

With the exponential accumulation of images since the time of silver on metal plates exposed to light and mercurial gases, to today’s unlimited digital replications, the realm of imagination has risen as a flood that threatens everything that civilizations once accepted as true.” (Stiegler)
….

The technological evolution of media reconfigures the sensorium so that it becomes increasingly more difficult to distinguish reality and simulation, authentic from mediated experience, truth from deception.

“When media reach a certain advanced state, they integrate themselves into daily “real” experience to such an extent that the unmediated sensation is indistinguishable from the mediated, and the simulation becomes confused with its source. The simulation differs from the image and the icon (and the simulacrum) in the active nature of its representation. What are forged or represented are not likenesses of static entities, but instead the processes of feeling and experiencing themselves. Beginning as a primarily visual representation, the simulacrum (provisionally: the image of a simulation) has since been extended theoretically, and in the recent theory exemplified by the work of Baudrillard functions as a catch-all term for systems still operating despite the loss of what previous meaning they had held.  Jean Baudrillard writes in Simulations that an effective simulation will not merely deceive one into believing in a false entity, but in fact signifies the destruction of an original reality that it has replaced”(Sandoz).

If Baudrillard believes that simulation is the process through which reality is usurped, then simulacrum is the term for the reification of the process that produces an icon which stands in for a real object.  It is an image embodying a system of empty signs

According to Baudrillard the process by which our attention shifts form nature to its hyper-real replacement follows an evolutionary course:

1.The first stage is a faithful image/copy, where we believe, and it may even be correct that, a sign is a “reflection of a profound reality”, this is a good appearance, in what Baudrillard called “the sacramental order”.

2.The second stage is perversion of reality, this is where we believe the sign to be an unfaithful copy, which “masks and denatures” reality. Here, signs and images do not faithfully show us reality, but can hint at the existence of something real which the sign itself is incapable of encapsulating.

3.The third stage masks the absence of a profound reality, where the simulacrum pretends to be a faithful copy, but it is a copy with no original. Signs and images claim to represent something real, but no representation is taking place and arbitrary images are merely suggested as things which they have no relationship to. Baudrillard calls this the “order of sorcery”.

4.The fourth stage is pure simulation, in which the simulacrum has no relationship to any reality whatsoever. “Here, signs merely reflect other signs and any claim to reality on the part of images or signs is only of the order of other such claims.”  (Baudrillard)

Baudrillard goes on the equate the stages involved in the replacement of the real with three orders of historical process

1.First order, associated with the premodern period, where the image is clearly an artificial placemarker for the real item. The uniqueness of objects and situations marks them as irreproducibly real and signification obviously gropes towards this reality.

2.Second order, associated with modernity and the Industrial Revolution where distinctions between image and reality break down due to the proliferation of mass produced copies of items, turning them into commodities. The commodity’s ability to imitate reality threatens to replace the original version, especially when the individual person is only concerned with consuming for some utility a functional facsimile.

3.Third order, associated with postmodernity, where the simulacrum precedes the original and the distinction between reality and representation vanishes. There is only the simulacrum, and originality becomes a totally meaningless concept. (Hegarty/Wiki)

The retouched photograph of Sri Aurobindo present several unique problems. Foremost, because of his own unsparing commitment to truth but also because of the status assigned to him in India both as a spiritual and cultural figure. As a spiritual leader Sri Aurobindo shunned being labeled a guru, since he believed the guru resided in everyone’s heart. An Ashram did grow up around him because even if he was immobile thousands sought his spiritual guidance and made pilgrimages to Pondicherry, if just for darshan. As a spiritual leader he followers view of him ranges from status of a great teacher (mahaguru) to a god-like (avatar) stature imparted on him by his staunchest devotees.

Although one suspects that an evolutionary tendency in culture would be non-linear and much too complex to put into an ascending series of stages and orders, the curve of technology does follow specific physical laws that allows it to redouble its colonization of human consciousness every few years. In these terms there does seem to be a correspondence between the evolution of technology in advanced societies with the displacement of the real. So one could attempt to evaluate the original and retouched photographs of Sri Aurobindo in terms of the stages and orders of displacement of the real as follows:

The original photographs taken by Cartier–Bresson is an image that is still a faithful copy where we believe, and it may even be correct that, a sign is a “reflection of a profound reality” align with what Baudrillard calls the “sacramental order” This would also be true of the original photograph on the cover the Heehs biography taken of Sri Aurobindo after both standing trail for his life and his spiritual transformation.

These images are stark in the naturalness and correspond to Baudrillard’s first order when  images still stood in for what they replaced “where situations marks them as ir-reproducibly real and signification obviously gropes towards this reality”.

This photograph of Sri Aurobindo was retouched in France in the 1930s (Heehs) around the same time when Walter Benjamin, also living in France, was composing his thesis on aura and photography. Once photographs are retouched to beautify the image such as the one Heehs refers to in The Lives of Sri Aurobindo we begin to spiral from the faithful copy of the real toward the hyper-real. At this stage the copy is no longer faithful to an original but rather “masks and denatures” reality. –it can be retouched-  Here, signs and images do not faithfully show us reality.

This transformation of Sri Aurobindo’s image parallels that of his exploitation by Hindu fundamentalist groups like the RSS and VHP who cleave to him as cultural icon, leader of the early independence struggle and a champion of Vedanta. To these groups Sri Aurobindo is a heroic figure of both the Bengal Renaissance and the Indian struggle for self-determination. While his spiritual followers favor this particular image to bolster their assessment of him as an “avatar” members of the Hindu right exploit the image for its value as heroic representation of Hinduness.

A further evolution of Sri Aurobindo’s image that facilitates his transformation from sage the simulacrum occurs after 1950 when Sri Aurobindo’s Cartier-Bresson portraits have been painted with an aura. But perhaps more demonstrative of this move away from reality occur in some of the pictures after his death that seem to be brushed with a bluish light emanating from his lifeless body. At this point his transformation into simulacrum is complete.  This is Baudrillard’s “order of sorcery” where the simulacrum pretends to be a faithful copy, but it is a copy with no original.

In the case of the Samadhi photographs after he left his body it was displayed to his followers for four days. It is widely reported by many of those who viewed him during this time that his body- depending on accounts – radiated with either a golden or bluish light and showed no sign of decomposition despite the south Indian heat. Even though there are many who claim to have witnessed the phenomena of the bluish glow unfortunately in 1950 there was no color film available at that time in Pondicherry.  The following is an account given by Robi Ganguli, the gentleman who accompanied Cartier-Bresson to Sri Aurobindo’s room to take his photographs:

“What Vidyavrata has said about the glow around Sri Aurobindo’s body is correct. Like him I did not see this ethereal glow at night but only the next morning. At the Mother’s suggestion Chiman tried to procure from Madras a roll of colour film, which had for some time reached the commercial market. Perhaps the Mother thought that the glow around the body, which though visible to our eyes had eluded the black and white negatives, could possibly be captured in the colour shots. But unfortunately even in a big city like Madras, these colour rolls were not available.

I distinctly remember that only four of us took photographs. None other than Vidyavrata, Venkatesh, Chiman and myself were involved.  On the 9th when Sri Aurobindo’s mortal remains were put into the Samadhi, the four of us also took pictures of the ceremony. “

Although some may have indeed witnessed an ethereal glow the technology would simply not have been available at the time to portray any other colors than black and white.  It would have therefore been impossible to photograph the color emanating from his body.  Just like the aura on the Cartier-Bresson photographs these images would have had to be doctored to simulate the effect. Whatever the validity of the reports an image faithful to that event simply could not exists. That is the images of auras of ethereal glows are simply copies without an original.

Sri Aurobindo Samadhi (retouched)

Sri Aurobindo’s body (retouched with bluish glow)

When these images are employed by Hindu Nationalist to depict the god-like stature of their political mascot we are close to transiting to the fourth stage of Baudrillards hyper-real in which signs merely reflect other signs without any reality so that ethereal glow and painted aura only reflect the vacant fundamentalist signs of Hindu Nationalism.

The need to distort Sri Aurobindo’s images although troubling in exercising an ideological agenda is simple unnecessary, even for those whose agendas lie in fashioning idols. The authentic reproductions of the Cartier-Bresson photographs make those augmented by the wizardry of an aura, ghostly and unreal.  The faithful image of Sri Aurobindo’s repose in samadhi is more majestic in death than the bluish simulacrum. In the original Sri Aurobindo assumes a last immobile poise, a final profile of perfected peace and equanimity emanating onto a film base of cellulose acetate. The faithful image a “reflection of a profound reality”

Sri Aurobindo Samadhi (original)

Barthes believed that Photography was the eidos toward death in part because “we can be certain that the image will outlive the subject, whose photograph lingers long after her death”.

Susan Sontag argues that “the iconic properties of the more durable photograph will inevitably replace the myriad details of the experience represented in the image; in the end it is the photograph itself that is remembered” (Sontag)

Ironically, what is remembered of the retouched photographs of Sri Aurobino is the precession of simulacra across the screen of hypermodern consciousness.  This accelerating technomaya disappears the questing subject, who Sri Aurobindo envisioned in the first half of the 20th century as the transitional human form. One who through cultivation of the psychic being’s puissant silence fashion a liminal environment to channel supramental consciousness into human evolution.  In contrast the hyperreal desiring machines of neo-liberal globalization consume the psychic imagination of “real idea” excrete it as simulacra.

For those who fashion Sri Aurobindo into either cultural hero or spiritual avatar their desire follows a similar although more ancient  trajectory in which the real is replaced by simulacrum; the fashioning of idols. Today long after his passing the retouched images of Sri Aurobindo demonstrate just how easily the eidos of photography shape-shifts as the eidolon of photography.

References :

Assouline, Pierre: Henri Cartier-Bresson, l’œil du siècle

http://www.henricartierbresson.org/hcb/HCB_bio00_en.htm

Barthes, Roland: Camera Lucinda Hill and Wang; Second Edition edition (May 1, 1982)

Baudrillard, Jean:  Simulacra and Simulation University of Michigan Press (February 15, 1995)

Benjamin Walther: Art in an Age of Mechanical Reproduction CreateSpace (September 23, 2010)

Bergson, Henri, Creative Evolution Dover Publications; Unabridged edition (February 6, 1998)

Banerji Debashsih: On The Record of Yoga (2011) Forthcoming

Derrida, Jacques: Dissemination, University Of Chicago Press (February 15, 1983)

Downing, Eric: After Images: Photography, Archaeology, and Psychoanalysis and the Tradition of Bildung (Kritik German Literary Theory and Cultural Studies)Wayne State University Press (September 30, 2006)

Espinosa, Julie  The Advent of Myself as Other: Photography, Memory and Identity Creation. Gnovis Journal Spring 2010

http://gnovisjournal.org/journal/advent-myself-other-photography-memory-and-identity-creation

Heehs, Peter: The Lives of Sri Aurobindo Columbia University Press (April 28, 2008)

Hegarty, Paul (2004). Jean Baudrillard: live theory. London: Continuum.

Herrigel Eugene, Zen in the Art of Archery Vintage (January 26, 1999)

Plato: “Phaedrus” Plato’s Dialogue Princeton University Press (September 15, 2005)

Sandoz, Devin http://csmt.uchicago.edu/glossary2004/simulationsimulacrum.htm (2003)

Sontag Susan. On Photography Picador; 1st edition (August 25, 2001)

Stiegler Bernard Stanford University Press (December 15, 2010)

Other References (Web Sites)

http://throughmylense2011.blogspot.com/2011/03/historical-constructed-reality.html

http://www.utata.org/salon/38067.php

http://www.sriaurobindoashram.org/research/show.php?set=doclife&id=31

http://www.sriaurobindoashram.org/research/show.php?set=doclife&id=25

http://www.magnumphotos.com/C.aspx?VP=XSpecific_MAG.Biography_VPage&AID=2K7O3R14T50B

from

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Simulacra_and_Simulation

 

A Letter of Sri Aurobindo to His Brother

A Letter of Sri Aurobindo to His Brother

Pondicherry

Date unfixable [April 1920]

Dear Barin,

I have received your three letters (and another one today), but up till now I have not managed to write a reply. That now I sit to write is itself a miracle, because I write letters once in a blue moon, especially letters in Bengali. This is something I have not done even once in the last five or six years. If I can finish the letter and post it, the miracle will be complete.

First, about your yoga. You want to give me the charge of your yoga, and I am willing to accept it. But this means giving it to Him who, openly or secretly, is moving me and you by His divine power. And you should know that the inevitable result of this will be that you will have to follow the path of yoga which He has given me. the path 1 call the Integral Yoga. This is not exactly what we did in Alipur jail, or what you did during your imprisonment in the Andamans. What I started with, what Lele gave me, what I did in jail — all that was a searching for the path, a circling around looking here and there, touching, taking up, handling, testing this and that of all the old partial yogas, getting a more or less complete experience of one and then going off in pursuit of another. Afterwards, when I came to Pondicherry, this unsteady condition ceased. The indwelling Guru of the world indicated my path to me completely, its full theory, the ten limbs of the body of the yoga. These ten years he has been making me develop it in experience; it is not yet finished. It may take another two years. And so long as it is not finished, I probably will not be able to return to Bengal. Pondicherry is the appointed place for the fulfilment of my yoga — except indeed for one part of it. that is, the work. The centre of my work is Bengal, but I hope its circumference will be the whole of India and the whole world.

Later I will write to you what my path of yoga is. Or, if you come here, I will tell you. In these matters the spoken word is better than the written. For the present I can only say that its fundamental principle is to make a synthesis and unity of integral knowledge, integral works and integral devotion, and, raising this above the mental level to the supramental level of the Vijnana, to give it a complete perfection.

Page-11


The defect of the old yoga was that, knowing the mind and reason and knowing the Spirit, it remained satisfied with spiritual experience in the mind. But the mind can grasp only the fragmentary; it cannot completely seize the infinite, the undivided. The mind’s way to seize it is through the trance of samadhi. the liberation of moksha, the extinction of nirvana, and so forth. It has no other way. Someone here or there may indeed obtain this featureless liberation, but what is the gain? The Spirit, the Self, the Divine is always there. What the Divine wants is for man to embody Him here, in the individual and in the collectivity—to realise God in life. The old system of yoga could not synthesise or unify the Spirit and life; it dismissed the world as an illusion or a transient play of God. The result has been a diminution of the power of life and the decline of India. The Gita says; utsideyur ime loka na kuryam karma ced aham, “These peoples would crumble to pieces if I did not do actions.” Verily “these peoples” of India have gone down to ruin. What kind of spiritual perfection is it if a few ascetics, renunciates, holy-men and realised beings attain liberation, if a few devotees dance in a frenzy of love, god-intoxication and bliss, and an entire race, devoid of life and intelligence, sinks to the depths of darkness and inertia? First one must have all sorts of partial experience on the mental level, flooding the mind with spiritual delight and illuminating it with spiritual light; afterwards one climbs upwards. Unless one makes this upward climb, this climb to the supramental level, it is not possible to know the ultimate secret of world-existence; the riddle of the world is not solved. There, the cosmic Ignorance which consists of the duality of Self and world, Spirit and life, is abolished. Then one need no longer look on the world as an illusion: the world is an eternal play of God, the perpetual manifestation of the Self. Then is it possible fully to know and realise God—samagram mam jnatum pravistum, “to know and enter into Me completely”, as the Gita says. The physical body, life, mind and reason, Supermind. the Bliss-existence—these are the Spirits five levels. The higher we climb, the nearer comes a state of highest perfection of man’s spiritual evolution. When we rise to the Super-mind, it becomes easy to rise to the Bliss. The status of indivisible and infinite Bliss becomes firmly established — not only in the timeless Supreme Reality, but in the body, in the world, in life. Integral existence, integral consciousness, integral bliss blossom out and take form in life. This endeavour is the central clue of my yogic path, its fundamental idea.

Page-12


 

But it is not an easy thing. After fifteen years I am only now rising into the lowest of the three levels of the Supermind and trying to draw up into it all the lower activities. But when the process is complete, there is not the least doubt that God through me will give this supramental perfection to others with less difficulty. Then my real work will begin. I am not impatient for the fulfilment of my work. What is to happen will happen in God’s appointed time. I am not disposed to run like a madman and plunge into the field of action on the strength of my little ego. Even if my work were not fulfilled, I would not be disturbed. This work is not mine, it is Gods. I listen to no one else’s call. When I am moved by God, I will move.

I know that Bengal is not ready. The spiritual flood which has come is for the most part a new form of the old. It is not a real change. But it too was needed. Bengal has been awakening within itself all the old yogas in order to exhaust their ingrained tendencies, extract their essence and with it fertilise the soil. First it was the turn of Vedanta: the doctrine of non-dualism, asceticism, the Illusionism of Shankara, and so forth. Now, according to your description, it is the turn of the Vaishnava religion : the divine Play, love, losing oneself in the delight of spiritual emotion. All this is very old and unsuitable for the new age. It cannot last, for such excitement has no lasting-power. But the Vaishnava way has this merit, that it keeps a certain connection between God and the world and gives a meaning to life. But because it is a partial thing, the connection and the meaning are not complete. The sectarianism you have noticed was inevitable. This is the law of the mind: to take one part and call it the whole, excluding all the other parts. The realised man who comes with an idea keeps, even if he leans on the part, some awareness of the whole — although he may not be able to give it form. But his disciples are not able to do this, because the form is lacking. They are tying up their bundles — let them. When God descends completely on the country, the bundles will open of themselves. All these things are signs of incompleteness and immaturity. I am not disturbed by them. Let the force of spirituality have its play in the country in whatever way and through as many sects as there may be. Afterwards we shall see.

 

Page-13


This is the infancy, the embryonic state, even, of the new age, just a hint, not yet the beginning.

Then about Motilal’s group.1 What Motilal got from me is the first foundation, the base of my yoga—surrender, equality etc. He has been working on these things; the work is not complete. One special feature of this yoga is that until the realisation has been raised to a somewhat elevated level, the base does not become solid. Motilal now wants to rise higher. In the beginning he had a number of old fixed notions. Some have dropped off, some still remain. At first it was the notion of asceticism — he wanted to create an Aurobindo order of monks.2 Now his mind has admitted that asceticism is not needed, but the old impression in his vital being has still not been thoroughly wiped out. This is why he advocates renunciation and asceticism while remaining a part of the life of the world. He has realised the necessity of renouncing desire, but he has not fully been able to grasp how the renunciation of desire can be reconciled with the experience of bliss. Moreover, he took to my yoga—as is natural to the Bengali nature —not so much from the side of knowledge as from the side of devotion and service. Knowledge has blossomed out a little : but much more is yet to come, and the fog of sentimentality has not been dissipated, though it is not so thick as it used to be. He has not been able to get beyond the limitations of the sattwic nature, the temperament of the moral man. The ego is still there. In a word, his development is progressing, it is not complete. But I am in no hurry. I am letting him develop according to his own nature. I do not want to fashion everybody in the same mould. The real thing will be the same in all, but it will take many aspects and many forms. Everyone grows from within; I do not wish to model from outside. Motilal has got the fundamental thing; all the rest will come.

You ask, “Why is Motilal tying up his bundle?” I will explain. First, some people have gathered round him who are in contact with him and with me. What he received from me. they too are receiving. Secondly, I wrote a small article in Prabartak3 called

 

1 The Prabartak Sangha of Chandernagore. West Bengal, founded by Motilal Roy. an early associate of Sri Aurobindo.

        2 Today I have received a letter from Motilal He writes that he never had this idea, he was misunderstood [Sri Aurobindo's note]

        3 A magazine published by Motilal Roy’s Prabartak Sangha

 

Page-14


“About Society”4 in which I spoke about the sangha or community. I do not want a community based on division. I want a community based upon the Spirit and giving form to the unity of the Spirit. This idea Motilal has taken up under the name deva-sangha (divine community). I have spoken in my English writings of the “divine life”. Nolini has translated this as deva-jivana. The community of those who want the deva-jivana is the deva-sangha. Motilal has begun an attempt to establish this kind of community in seed-form in Chander-nagore and to spread it across the country. If the shadow of the fragile ego falls upon this sort of endeavour, the community turns into a sect. The idea may easily creep in that the community which will be there in the end is this very one, that everything will be the circumference of this sole centre, that all who are outside it are not of the fold or, even if they are, that they have gone astray, because they are not in accord with our current line of thinking. If Motilal is making this mistake—he may have some tendency to make it, though I do not know whether he has done so or not —it will not do much harm, the mistake will pass. Much work has been done and continues to be done for us by Motilal and his little group —something nobody else has been able to do up till now. The divine power is working in him, there is no doubt about that.

You will perhaps ask. “What is the need of a sangha? Let me be free and fill every vessel. Let all become one. let all take place within that vast unity.” All this is true, but it is only one side of the truth. Our business is not with the formless Spirit only; we have to direct life as well. Without shape and form, life has no effective movement. It is the formless that has taken form, and that assumption of name and form is not a caprice of Maya. The positive necessity of form has brought about the assumption of form. We do not want to exclude any of the world’s activities. Politics, trade, social organisation, poetry, art, literature — all will remain. But all will be given a new life, a new form. Why did I leave politics? Because our politics is not the genuine Indian thing: it is a European import, an imitation of European ways. But it too was needed. You and 1 also engaged in politics of the European style. If we had not done so. the country would not have risen, and we would not have had the experience or obtained a full development.

 

4 Presently published under the title “The Chariot of Jagannath” (Jagannather Rath).

 

Page-15


Even now there is a need for it, not so much in Bengal as in the other provinces of India. But now the time has come to take hold of the substance instead of extending the shadow. We have to awaken the true soul of India and to do everything in accordance with it. For the last ten years I have been silently pouring my influence into this foreign political vessel, and there has been some result. I can continue to do this wherever necessary. But if I took up that work openly again, associating with the political leaders and working with them, it would be supporting an alien law of being and a false political life. People now want to spiritualise politics — Gandhi, for instance. But he can’t get hold of the right way. What is Gandhi doing? Making a hodge-podge called satyagraha out of “Ahimsa parama dharma”.5 Jainism. hartal, passive resistance, etc. ; bringing a sort of Indianised Tolstoyism into the country. The result—if there is any lasting result—will be a sort of Indianised Bolshevism. I have no objection to his work; let each one act according to his own inspiration. But it is not the real thing. If the spiritual force is poured into these impure forms — the wine of the spirit into these unbaked vessels — the imperfect things will break apart and spill and waste the wine. Or else the spiritual force will evaporate and only the impure form remain. It is the same in every field of activity. I could use my spiritual influence; it would give strength to those who received it and they would work with great energy. But the force would be expended in shaping the image of a monkey and setting it up in the temple of Shiva. If the monkey is brought to life it may grow powerful, and in the guise of the devotee Hanuman do much work for Rama — so long as the life and strength remain. But in the temple of India we want not Hanuman but the Godhead, the Avatar, Rama himself.

I can associate with everyone, but only in order to draw them all onto the true path, while keeping the spirit and form of our ideal intact. If that is not done we will lose our way and the true work will not be accomplished. If we are spread out everywhere as individuals, something no doubt will be done; if we are spread out everywhere in the form of a sangha, a hundred times more will be accomplished. But the time has not yet come for this. If we try to give it form hastily, it will not be the exact thing 1 want. The sangha will at first be in a diffused form.

 

5 “Non-violence is the highest law”

 

Page-16


Those who have accepted the ideal, although bound together, will work in different places. Afterwards, bound into a sangha with a form like a spiritual commune, they will shape all their activities according to the Self and according to the needs of the age. Not a fixed and rigid form like that of the old Aryan society, not a stagnant backwater, but a free form that can spread itself out like the sea with its multitudinous waves—engulfing this, inundating that, absorbing all—and as this continues, a spiritual community will be established. This is my present idea ; it is not yet fully developed. What is being developed is what came to me in my meditations at Alipur. I shall see what shape it finally takes later. The result is in God’s hands — let his will be done. Motilal’s little group is just one experiment. He is looking for the means to engage in trade, industry, agriculture, etc. through his sangha. I am giving force and watching. There may be some materials for the future and some useful suggestions to be found in it. Do not judge it by its current merits and demerits or its present limitations. It is now in a wholly initial and experimental stage.

Next I will discuss some of the specific points raised in your letter. I do not want to say much here about what you write as regards your yoga. It will be more convenient to do so when we meet. But there is one thing you write, that you admit no physical connection with men, that you look upon the body as a corpse. And yet your mind wants to live the worldly life. Does this condition still persist? To look upon the body as a corpse is a sign of asceticism, the path of nirvana. The worldly life does not go along with this idea. There must be delight in everything, in the body as much as in the spirit. The body is made of consciousness, the body is a form of God. I see God in everything in the world. Sarvam idam brahma, vasudevah sarvamiti (“All this here is the Brahman”, “Vasudeva, the Divine, is all”) —this vision brings the universal delight. Concrete waves of this bliss flow even through the body. In this condition, filled with spiritual feeling, one can live the worldly life, get married or do anything else. In every activity one finds a blissful self-expression of the divine. I have for a long time been transforming on the mental level all the objects and experiences of the mind and senses into delight. Now they are all taking the form of supramental delight. In this condition there is the perfect vision and experience of Sachchidananda—the divine Existence. Consciousness and Bliss.

 

Page-17


Next, in reference to the divine community, you write, “I am not a god, only some much-hammered and tempered steel.” I have already spoken about the real meaning of the divine community. No one is a god, but each man has a god within him. To manifest him is the aim of the divine life. That everyone can do. I admit that certain individuals have greater or lesser capacities. I do not, however, accept as accurate your description of yourself. But whatever the capacity, if once God places his finger upon the man and his spirit awakes, greater or lesser and all the rest make little difference. The difficulties may be more, it may take more time, what is manifested may not be the same—but even this is not certain. The god within takes no account of all these difficulties and deficiencies; he forces his way out. Were there few defects in my mind and heart and life and body? Few difficulties? Did it not take time? Did God hammer at me sparingly—day after day, moment after moment? Whether I have become a god or something else I do not know. But I have become or am becoming something—whatever God desired. This is sufficient. And it is the same with everybody; not by our own strength but by God’s strength is this yoga done.

It is good that you have taken charge of Narayan. The magazine began well, but later it drew a narrow sectarian line around itself; fostered feelings of faction and began to rot. At first Nolini wrote for Narayan, but later he was obliged to turn elsewhere, because it gave no scope to free opinion. There must be the free air of an open room, otherwise how can there be any power of life? Free light and free air are the primary nourishment of the life-force. At present it is not possible for me to contribute anything. Later I may be able to give something, but Prabartak also has its claim on me. It may at first be a little difficult to satisfy calls from both directions. We shall see when I begin to write in Bengali again. At the moment I am short of time; it is not possible for me to write for anything except the Arya. Each month I alone have to provide 64 pages; it is no small task. And then there is poetry to write; the practice of yoga takes time; time is also needed for rest. Most of “On Society”, which Saurin has with him, has probably appeared in Prabartak. The rest of what he has must be a draft; the final revision has not been done. Let me have a look at it first. We shall see then whether it can be published in Narayan.

 

Page-18


You write about Prabartak that people cannot understand it, it is misty, a riddle. I have been hearing the same complaint all along. I admit that there is not much clear-cut thinking in Motilal’s writing; he writes too densely. But he has inspiration, force, power. In the beginning Nolini and Moni wrote for Prabartak and even then people called it a riddle. But Nolini’s thinking is clear-cut, Moni’s writing direct and powerful. There is the same complaint about the Arya; people can’t understand it. Who wants to give so much thought and consideration to his reading? But in spite of this, Prabartak was doing a lot of work in Bengal, and at that time people did not have the idea that I was writing for it. If now it does not have the same effect, the reason is that now people are rushing towards activity and excitement. On one side there is the flood of devotion, on the other side the effort to make money. But during the ten-year period that Bengal was lifeless and inert, Prabartak was its only fountain of strength. It has helped a lot in changing the mood of Bengal. I do not think its work is over yet.

In this connection let me tell you briefly one or two things I have been observing for a long time. It is my belief that the main cause of India’s weakness is not subjection, nor poverty, nor a lack of spirituality or religion, but a diminution of the power of thought, the spread of ignorance in the birthplace of knowledge. Everywhere I see an inability or unwillingness to think — incapacity of thought or “thought-phobia”. This may have been all right in the mediaeval period, but now this attitude is the sign of a great decline. The mediaeval period was a night, the day of victory for the man of ignorance; in the modern world it is the time of victory for the man of knowledge. He who can delve into and learn the truth about the world by thinking more, searching more, labouring more, gains more power. Take a look at Europe. You will see two things: a wide limitless sea of thought and the play of a huge and rapid, yet disciplined force. The whole power of Europe is here. It is by virtue of this power that she has been able to swallow the world, like our tapaswis of old, whose might held even the gods of the universe in terror, suspense, subjection. People say that Europe is rushing into the jaws of destruction. I do not think so. All these revolutions, all these upsettings are the first stages of a new creation. Now take a look at India.

Page-19


A few solitary giants aside, everywhere there is your  simple man, that is, your average man, one who will not think, cannot think, has not an ounce of strength, just a momentary excitement. India wants the easy thought, the simple word; Europe wants the deep thought, the deep word. In Europe even ordinary labourers think, want to know everything. They are not satisfied to know things halfway, but want to delve deeply into them. The difference lies here. But there is a fatal limitation to the power and thought of Europe. When she enters the field of spirituality, her thought-power stops working. There Europe sees everything as a riddle, nebulous metaphysics, yogic hallucination — “It rubs its eyes as in smoke and can see nothing clearly.” But now in Europe not a little effort is being made to surmount even this limitation. Thanks to our forefathers, we have the spiritual sense, and whoever has this sense has within his reach such knowledge, such power, as with one breath could blow all the immense strength of Europe away like a blade of grass. But power is needed to get this power. We, however, are not worshippers of power; we are worshippers of the easy way. But one cannot obtain power by the easy way. Our forefathers swam in a vast sea of thought and gained a vast knowledge; they established a vast civilisation. But as they went forward on their path they were overcome by exhaustion and weariness. The force of their thought decreased, and along with it decreased the force of their creative power. Our civilisation has become a stagnant backwater, our religion a bigotry of externals, our spirituality a faint glimmer of light or a momentary wave of intoxication. So long as this state of things lasts, any permanent resurgence of India is impossible.

It is in Bengal that this weakness has gone to the extreme. The Bengali has quickness of intellect, a capacity for feeling, intuition. In all these qualities he is the foremost in India. Each of these qualities is necessary, but they are not in themselves sufficient. If there were added to them depth of thought, manly force, heroic audacity, proficiency and delight in prolonged labour, the Bengali would become the leader not only of India, but of the world. But the Bengali does not want this; he wants to pick up things the easy way — knowledge without thought, results without labour, spiritual perfection after an easy discipline. He relies on emotional excitement, but excessive emotion devoid of knowledge is the very symptom of the disease. What has the Bengali been doing from the time of Chaitanya onwards, from long before that, in fact?

 

Page-20


Catching hold of some easy superficial aspect of spiritual truth and dancing about for a few days on waves of emotion; afterwards there is exhaustion, inertia. And at home, the gradual decline of Bengal, the ebbing away of her life-force. In the end, what has the Bengali come to in his own province? He has nothing to eat and no clothes to wear, there is wailing on every side. His wealth, his business and trade, even his agriculture begin to pass slowly into the hands of outsiders. We have abandoned the yoga of divine power and so the divine power has abandoned us. We practise the yoga of love, but where there is no knowledge or power, love does not stay. Narrowness and littleness come in. In a narrow and small mind, life and heart, love finds no room. Where is there love in Bengal? Nowhere else even in this division-ridden India is there so much quarrelling, strained relations, jealousy, hatred and factionalism as in Bengal.

In the noble heroic age of the Aryan people there was not so much shouting and gesticulation, but the endeavour they set in motion lasted many centuries. The Bengali’s endeavour lasts for a day or two. You say what is needed is emotional excitement, to fill the country with enthusiasm. We did all that in the political field during the Swadeshi period; everything we did has fallen in the dust. Will there be a more auspicious outcome in the spiritual field? I don’t say there has been no result. There has been; every movement produces some result. But it is mostly in an increase of possibilities. This is not the right way to steadily actualise the thing. Therefore I do not wish to make emotional excitement, feeling and mental enthusiasm the base any longer. I want to make a vast and strong equality the foundation of my yoga; in all the activities of the being, which will be based on that equality, I want a complete, firm and unshakable power; over that ocean of power I want the radiation of the sun of Knowledge and in that luminous vastness an established ecstasy of infinite love and bliss and oneness. I do not want tens of thousands of disciples. It will be enough if I can get as instruments of God one hundred complete men free from petty egoism. I have no confidence in guruhood of the usual type. I do not want to be a guru. What I want is for someone, awakened by my touch or by that of another, to manifest from within his sleeping divinity and to realise the divine life. Such men will uplift this country.

 

Page-21


Do not think from reading this lecture that I despair of the future of Bengal. I too hope for what they are saying — that this time a great light will manifest in Bengal. But I have tried to show the other side of the shield, where the defects, failings and deficiencies lie. If these remain, that light will not be great, nor will it endure. The saints and great men you have written about appear to me rather dubious. Somehow I do not find in them what I am looking for. Dayananda6 has all sorts of wonderful powers. Illiterate disciples of his do remarkable automatic writing. All right, but this is only a psychic faculty. What I want to know about is the real thing in them and how far it has progressed. Then there is another — he stirs a person to his depths just by touching him. Very well, but what does that thrill lead to? Does the person become by this touch the kind of man who can stand like a pillar of the new age, the divine Golden Age? This is the question. I see you have your doubts about this. I have mine too.

I laughed when I read the prophecies of those saints and holy-men — but not a laugh of scorn or disbelief. I do not know about the distant future. The light God sometimes gives me falls one step ahead of me; I move forward in that light. But I wonder what these people need me for. Where is my place in their great assembly? I am afraid they would be disappointed to see me. And as for me, would I not be a fish out of the water? I am not an ascetic, not a saint, not a holy-man — not even a religious man. I have no religion, no code of conduct, no morality. Deeply engrossed in the worldly life, I enjoy luxury, eat meat, drink wine, use obscene language, do whatever I please — a Tantrik of the left-hand path. Among all these great men and incarnations of God am I a great man or an incarnation? If they saw me they might think I was the incarnation of the Iron Age, or of the titanic and demoniac form of the goddess Kali — what the Christians call the Antichrist. I see a misconception about me has been spread. If people get disappointed, it is not my fault.

The meaning of this extraordinarily long letter is that I too am tying up my bundle. But I believe this bundle is like the net of Saint Peter, teeming with the catch of the Infinite. I am not going to open the bundle just now. If it is opened too soon, the catch may escape.

 

6 A yogi of eastern Bengal, alive when this letter was written. Not to be confused with Swami Dayananda of the Arya Samaj.

 

Page-22


Nor am I going back to Bengal just now — not because Bengal is not ready, but because I am not ready. If the unripe goes amid the unripe, what can he accomplish?

Your Sejdada7

P.S. Nolini writes that you are coming not at the end of April, but in May. Upen8 also wrote about coming. What about that? Is he staying with you or elsewhere? Mukundilal has sent me a letter to be redirected to Sarojini.9 But I don’t know where Sarojini is, so I am sending it to you. Please forward it.

I have received a letter from Motilal. I gather from it and from some other circumstances that the shadow of a misunderstanding has fallen between him and Saurin.10 This may develop into mutual dislike. It is most improper that such a thing should happen among ourselves. I shall write to Motilal about this. Tell Saurin to be careful not to give the least occasion for the opening of such a breach or rift. Somebody told Motilal that Saurin has been telling people (or giving them the impression) that Aurobindo Ghose has nothing to do with Prabartak. Saurin certainly never said anything like this, for Prabartak is our paper. Whether I write for it in my own hand or not, God through me is giving the force that enables Motilal to write. From the spiritual point of view, the writing is mine; Motilal just adds the colour of his mind. Probably what Saurin said is that Aurobindo Ghose himself does not write Prabartak’s articles. But it is not necessary to say even that. It may create a wrong impression just opposite the truth in people’s minds. I have to some extent kept it a secret who writes or does not write for Prabartak. Prabartak (“The Initiated”) itself writes Prabartak. The Power itself is the writer; it is not the creation of any particular individual. This is the truth of the matter. Devajanma11 and other publications with articles by Nolini and Moni have come out in book form and there too no names have been given. It is the same principle. Let it be like that until further order.

 

7 Elder brother.

        8 Upendranath Bannerjee. Like Barin. he was sentenced to transportation for life for his part in the Alipur Bomb Conspiracy. In 1919 or 1920 both men were granted amnesty.

        9 Sri Aurobindo’s sister.

        10 A cousin of Sri Aurobindo’s wife; he was staying with Sri Aurobindo in Pondicherry. but at the time of this letter was in Bengal.

        11 A collection of essays.

Ineffable or Not: Understanding and Writing about Sri Aurobindo by Hanna H. Kim


Peter Heehs. The Lives of Sri Aurobindo. New York: Columbia University Press, 2008. xiv + 496 pp. $45.00 (cloth), ISBN 978-0-231-14098-0.

Reviewed by Hanna H. Kim (Adelphi University)
Published on H-Asia (June, 2011)
Commissioned by Sumit Guha

Ineffable or Not: Understanding and Writing about Sri Aurobindo

In recent years, authors writing about ancient to more modern traditions, communities, and divine and not necessarily divine persons connected to South Asia have sometimes found themselves to be virtually and, thankfully more rarely, literally assailed for their interpretations. These authors and their critics, one could argue, are part of a shared discursive context, one where technologies, global circulation of ideas, and the ease of joining in on conversations can support a wonderfully diverse audience but where the consequences of a perceived misstep in interpretation may require more than a thick skin. Into this milieu, a new biography of Sri Aurobindo Ghose has arrived. The Lives of Sri Aurobindo (hereafter The Lives), by Peter Heehs, joins his already impressive roster of publications, many concerning Aurobindo and unpublished materials from the Sri Aurobindo Ashram Archives of which Heehs is one of the founders. The new work covers the whole of Aurobindo’s life (1872-1950). It is engagingly written and supported by a bounty of historical materials. Students of India with little familiarity of Aurobindo will discover that Heehs offers a multisided portrait of a brilliant and enigmatic man whose lifetime spanned a momentous period in modern Indian history and whose various accomplishments bear closer examination for their content and for their discursive revelations on a variety of subjects, including revolution, violence, nationalism, poetry, metaphysics, Indian culture, Hindu texts, yoga, religion, and spiritual communities. For those already aware of Aurobindo’s role in early Indian nationalist politics and his subsequent transformation into a revered “spiritual” leader and founder of the Sri Aurobindo Ashram, Heehs’s biography adds many fine details from Aurobindo’s own diaries and retrospective writings alongside accounts from family, friends, associates, and foes. The overall result is a masterful and inspiring biography that provides a solid foundation for further Aurobindo studies and offers plenty of cues for other kinds of historical, textual, and exegetical work that could enhance our understanding of the multiple sites in which Aurobindo lived and worked.

Since its publication, Heehs’s biography has elicited strong criticism from some members of the Aurobindo community. These reactions were anticipated by Heehs who notes, in the preface, that admirers of Aurobindo do not always agree with perspectives that do not match theirs or with interpretations that challenge existing ones (p. xii). The actual points of contention (much of which can be located on the Internet) deserve attention for their contribution to the ongoing and not always consonant discourses that constitute Aurobindo. This review, however, is only focused on Heehs’s efforts to convey a portrait of Aurobindo’s life, one that is intentionally non-hagiographical and draws on a multiplicity of voices to help readers approach a life from numerous perspectives.

The Lives allows readers to come to an understanding of Aurobindo that is not predetermined by Heehs. Rather, the main purpose of this biography is to allow the complex person of Aurobindo to emerge from personal accounts and writings, observations, and other historical records. Heehs maps the course of Aurobindo’s life over five sections, each covering a range of roles that Aurobindo fulfilled, as son, scholar, revolutionary, yogi and philosopher, and guide. Heehs uses these sections well to allow Aurobindo’s multiple “lives” to emerge in the reader’s mind, first by not imposing any broader thesis to explain Aurobindo’s actions and decisions throughout his life, and second, by providing the right amount of context that allows the historical materials to largely speak for themselves. Heehs also seeks to add clarity rather than further confuse certain moments and comments in Aurobindo’s life that have been frequently interpreted to serve their supporters’ or critics’ purposes. These include Aurobindo’s comments on sanatan dharma (traditional ethical practice) and the need for modern India to recognize its cultural legacies and spiritual gifts. Heehs makes clear that Aurobindo’s essentializing of Indian culture when situated in the context of colonialism cannot be construed as synonymous with a program for Hindu supremacy. Aurobindo’s concept of sanatan dharma, Heehs writes, “was not a matter of belief but of spiritual experience and inner communion with the Divine,” the latter concept not being attached to a single religion or community but existing within and for all (p. 187). As for Aurobindo’s tacit acceptance of violence for political aims during his days as a journalist and political figure in Bengal and his subsequent abjuring of violence during his life in Pondicherry, Heehs notes that Aurobindo “never ceased to believe that Indians had the right to use violence to topple a government maintained by violence. But … he felt more than ever that terrorist acts were against India’s long-term interests” (p. 237). Concerning accusations of Aurobindo’s psychological instability based on his accounts of mystical experiences, Heehs incorporates the arguments of William James, Anton Boisen, and Sudhir Kakar, and notes that Aurobindo was found to be “unusually calm, dispassionate, and loving–and eminently sane” rather than exhibiting anxieties or signs of psychological pain that would suggest a stronger connection between mystical experience and madness (p. 247). As for the serious charges that Aurobindo’s focus on the Bengal boycott of British goods (swadeshi ) and his ignoring of the role of the Hindu elite in furthering their goals over those of the Muslim minorities played a role in the communalization of violence, Heehs points out that Aurobindo’s view of “religious violence as a purely social matter” rather than a potentially volatile political issue did impede a more concerted effort to include Muslim in the Extremists’ agenda (p. 211). Though Aurobindo and his associates did not knowingly endorse actions that would later lead to communal violence, Heehs notes that the “focus on freedom” and national autonomy was given priority over “interreligious and intercaste conflict” (p. 414). Heehs finds “no contemporary evidence that his [Aurobindo’s] actions or words exacerbated these [communal] problems”; nevertheless, Heehs acknowledges that Aurobindo’s overlooking the social dimension was one of the freedom “movement’s principal failings” (p. 212).

Throughout The Lives, the chronological and accumulative quality of the biography lends itself well especially for the final and longest sections on Aurobindo’s life, covering the period from the end of his political engagement to his “active retirement” in Pondicherry as a yogi and eventually leader of the Sri Aurobindo Ashram community. During this time, Aurobindo produced many writings for publication and kept a journal of his daily yoga practice, or sadhana (spiritual inquiry). He also wrote consistently, formulating a metaphysics that would support the aims of his yoga. Aurobindo’s writings on “spiritual” matters are not immediately comprehensible, in part due to their distinctive vocabulary, in English, and the particular intricacies of Aurobindo’s ontological categories. Heehs provides a concise as possible outline for approaching Aurobindo’s neologisms (not his word) and evolutionary framework for the governing relationships between the supermind, supramental, supramental Supernature, overmind, gnostic overmind, Divine, Spirit, and Nature. The fluid ease of Heehs’s writing in these matters of Aurobindo’s sadhana are an additional contribution of The Lives: instead of presenting this essentially devotional knowledge from the exclusive perspectives of the insider devotee or the distanced observer, Heehs articulates Aurobindo’s concepts and situates them within broader social and political contexts, including global events, such as WWI, India’s independence, WWII, and the onset of the Korean War. In particular, these sections show the challenges faced by Aurobindo and his “disciples” in attaining the higher and highest aims of yogic practice; they reveal too the various organizational and human obstacles to creating a smooth functioning devotional community and of finding ways to sustain it, at the levels of spirit and matter. Aurobindo was often short of money both during his short years as political activist, when  resources for projects, journalistic endeavors, and household maintenance were often scarceand later when he headed his growing community in Pondicherry.

As the narrative unfolds in The Lives, Heehs remains a measured interpreter of the historical materials he brings forth. He is a fine weaver of details. Only now and then one may wish for some more analysis of materials and their sources. And it might be helpful to know the identities connected to Heehs’s more frequently cited sources. For example, Aurobindo’s trusted associates Ambalal B. Purani and Nirodbaran are used extensively but introduced late in the biography (p. 315, and pp. 368, 382, respectively). Heehs does occasionally address readers directly and mostly in instances where he appreciates their possible skepticism or confusion, or to offer his awareness that some aspects of a person’s inner life may best remain ineffable. These are welcome intrusions for they signal what readers may already detect, that is, Heehs’s sensitivity to his biographical subject and audience alike. Toward this, perhaps there are two small matters that are certainly not weaknesses in light of the biography’s enormous merits, but that point to a possibly inescapable problem when writing about a revered person’s actions about which others’ offense might too easily arise. On the matter of Aurobindo’s prose and poetic writings, Heehs’s seems both firm in his critical assessment and yet somewhat delicate in his critique. Noting that Aurobindo’s style is reflective of the period of his late nineteenth-century English education and observing too Aurobindo’s admirable command of Western poetic traditions, Heehs appears to avoid a fuller exegesis and critique of these writings. Infrequently, Heehs shares his own affirmative feeling for a few poetic selections, most notably for those poems where Aurobindo expresses his inner spiritual experiences.

Another dimension of Aurobindo’s life that, depending on readers’ perspective, may seem too elliptically introduced or not explicit enough are the mentions of his “yogic force” and its connection to the outcome of certain world events. Heehs writes, “When Sri Aurobindo wrote to disciples about the workings of his force, he was careful to point out that it acted under conditions, as one among many forces at play. Nevertheless, he took his force and its material effects quite seriously.” The subject of yogic force is prematurely shut off by the statement from Heehs, “To talk about the force without the basis of experience would open the way to credulity or incredulity, both of which he [Aurobindo] deplored” (p. 387). Heehs, it seems, prefers not to overly dwell on what may appear to be ineffable experiences or where an experiential foundation seems a condition for understanding. Yet Heehs has taken up the challenge of helping readers to understand a complex person who combined great learning with a personal drive to enter into the realm of the metaphysical, and who spent half of his life to attain an ontological state for which no ready proof existed of its possible attainment. Does this suggest that there are limits to the form of historical biography that Heehs has offered? More optimistically, perhaps in this instance, it would have helped readers to appreciate if not accept Aurobindo’s claims if the feelings of devotees’ concerning yogic force could have been shared. The same might be said for readers having a stronger sense of how Aurobindo’s more well-known poems, such as Savitri, continue to have tremendous resonance for devotees. Including this kind of ethnographic data, one to which it seems Heehs would have ready access, would go some ways to filling the gap between Aurobindo’s yogic teachings and the deeply individual efforts of disciples to attain the desired ontological results.

Heehs’s abilities to balance his admiration for Sri Aurobindo with a historian’s scrupulousness towards source have resulted in what may likely be the definitive biography of Aurobindo. Even then, beyond being a compelling account of Aurobindo’s many lives, Heehs’s text contains unexpected and intriguing details, some more striking by their absence than presence. What accounts for the seemingly steady stream of Gujarati disciples in Pondicherry? Could Aurobindo’s poetry be productively analyzed with Victorian, Georgian, and Modernist poetic works? It is now the task of others to consider the rich veins of information that are exposed in The Lives and to expand these into compelling texts. This invitation, moreover, would include those who have found Heehs’s version of Aurobindo’s life to be less than acceptable.

Sri Aurobindo: Toward a Cinematic Time Vision?

 

If Bergson can provide a method for theorizing time and the cinematic nature of consciousness that advances philosophy and cultural understanding nearly a century afterward, surely there is not only a Supramental Time Vision but also a Cinematic Vision of Sri Aurobindo yet to be revealed…

This article which pulls from a preceding article on the “Meditations on the Second Movement of the Isha Upanishad” by Debashish, one on Bergson, Deleuze, and Cinema called “Thought Images and Acts of Creation” by Herzog as well as a recent translation of the first chapters of the latest volume of Bernard Stiegler’s Technics and Time entitled: “Cinematic Time and the Question of Malaise”, its theorizing begins by riffing on juxtaposed excerpts:

“A total view of the three times as one movement, singly and indivisibly seen, even in their succession of stages, periods, cycles, and that only in the instrumental consciousness, in the step by step evolution of the moments”….. Sri Aurobindo,

“Intuition is not duration itself. Intuition is rather the movement by which we emerge from our own duration, by which we make use of our own duration to affirm and immediately to recognize the existence of other durations, above or below us…..”Deleuze “Bergsonism”

“The Real-Idea as consciousness, that which always already knows the trajectory of past, present and future in a one-flash unit of Time, becomes the source of the memory which intuitive discrimination receives. This may come through the presence of the Lord hidden in the heart, the psychic being or through a “thought” received in the higher ranges of the mind. In either case, one of its distinguishing characteristics is the quality of memory, of something already known which is re-membered.” …. Sri Aurobindo

“As Bergson says, “The conscious present is the contraction of the entire past” “the present” for consciousness is memory and because time , which is primary retention, consists of selection via secondary retention that is the cinema in/of accelerated life, I see, I remember everything that has been repressed/archived: images, sounds, smells, touches, contacts, caresses; ” …. Stiegler Cinematic Time and the Question of Malaise

“When a present, accompanied by a past, has past away it becomes a past event for any future present. All those past events accompany a new present because they constitute what that present passes away into. When the present passes away in relation to any present that went before it because the past that accompanied those former presents also accompanies later ones (He picked up the relic and suddenly felt old..) This means that all of the past coexists with the new presents in relation to which it is now past. We do not pass away with other present moments but with the passing away of all of them because the presents can never accompany us-only their passing away can” … Deleuze “Difference and Repetition”

AL: What Deleuze is getting at with his theorizing of cinematic experience is an “image of thought”, (That from an Aurobindian perspective may perhaps be seen as a bridge from higher to illuminated mind and beyond)

“The provocation, then, for both the filmmaker and the film theorist, is one posed by philosophy. The challenge is to see film not as a means of representation, but as an assemblage of images in flux with the world of images, to see the history of film and the history of philosophy as convergent. The art of living remains the becoming of true creation, but the image of thought introduces the stutters and hesitations that give us access to this movement. “It’s the image of thought that guides the creation of concepts. It cries out, so to speak, whereas concepts are like songs….” Deleuze in Herzog “Images of Thought and Acts of Creation:

AL: It is through an “image of thought” Deleuze’s Bergson articulates duration as both “time-image” and “movement -image” streaming through the flux of cinematic consciousness, and lest we forget that along with an experience of the three times is a corresponding movement of eternal return:

“It is because in Time the Many seem not to be eternal but to manifest out of the One and return into it as their essence that their reality is denied; but it might equally be reasoned that the eternal persistence or, if you will, the eternal recurrence of the manifestation in Time is a proof that the divine multiplicity is an eternal fact of the Supreme beyond Time no less than the divine unity; otherwise it could not have this characteristic of inevitable eternal recurrence in Time.”…. Sri Aurobindo, The Life Divine

“D.N. Rodowick notes that the “image of thought” is not a representational image (i.e. the concept is not contained within a concrete, physical image). Rather, the image of thought is a movement, a process of continual differentiation. While this movement, in terms of film, takes its roots in what Deleuze calls the movement-image, Rodowick notes that an image of thought, for Deleuze, only becomes an active force when it takes a step further: “But in order to claim for philosophy what is its activity by right, the philosopher must invoke the more fundamental ‘movement’ of the impersonal form of time and eternal recurrence.” This is what leads to the distinction between the movement-image and the time-image: a qualitative difference, where what is seen, what is conveyed becomes less significant than what is not revealed, what is unknown.”… Deleuze in Herzog “Images of Thought and Acts of Creation”

AL: If you have ever seen the film Intervista you would be touched by the image of thought, by times affective dimension unfolding in the following scene. After being immersed in Fellinesque imagery for most of the film one finally finds oneself in an aging Anita Ekberg’s living room:

“In the film Fellini appears in a scene with Marcello Mastroianni, with whom he pays a visit to Anita Ekberg. In the course of the evening the three of them watch the Trevi Fountain scene of Mastroianni and Ekberg from La Dolce Vita. Thus is Intervista we see an actress watching herself playing a character, and the scenes extreme tension results from the undecidibility ; Anita is appearing in a film by Fellini, but she is playing watching herself portraying a different character thirty years earlier, and no viewer of the second film, Intervista could escape being certain that as she watches the film –watches her past life, her past youth- Anita cannot simply play herself watching herself without knowing that this is a Quintessential performance, the most serious one of all, the first and last engagement, the play of all plays; no one looking at herself again, from thirty years later, having aged those thirty years, and could not feel the terrible reality of time passing the photographic “that has been” through the conjunction of reality of the past, the silvery co-incidence re-animated by cinema’s temporal flux. We see an actress playing an actress watching an actress play a real character in a fictional film, but we know she is playing herself having been, that what she is doing is no longer a simple portrayal, a pure performance any actor might be required to give, but the absolutely tragic staging of her own existence, in so far as that existence is passing by irremediably and forever- forever except for what concerns this silvery image she has left on film; an image in which she has been preserved”… Stiegler Cinematic Time and the Question of Malaise,

AL: But before we can engage with any questions of the coincidence of intuitive mind and/or a supramental time vision with a cinematics of consciousness a critical question must be posed regards the yogic sadhana and the Vedantic genealogy of its epistemology and method..

“These three poises of Purusha will be given names in the Bhagavad Gita as the Kshara Purusha, the Akshara Purusha and the Purushottama. The Kshara Purusha is the Person at the heart of things, the divine spark in the secret cave of all beings which mutates, changes, evolves. It changes because it is immersed in Nature, Prakriti, and through that immersion it gathers the properties of Prakriti to itself from life to life, forming a soul personality.

That soul personality, to the extent that it manages to identify with Prakriti and at the same time know itself to be free of Prakriti, because as was discussed earlier, this receives no stain of action, is entirely free within us, — to that extent it evolves in its power over Prakriti. It becomes master and lord of Prakriti in us”… D. Banerji

AL: From the perspective of the phenomenological experience of Kshara Purusha, identified with the movements of nature/culture, as a subject constructing a world, how does it begin a practice which brings it back to the unmediated realities of Akshara Purusha or Purushottama under the following conditions of our evolving cultural understanding:

“Unmediated experience signals a danger that is worse , if anything can be, than naïve realism; its polar opposite, naïve subjectivism. Earlier phenomenological investigations into the sensing body were left behind because they were difficult to reconcile with the new understanding of structuring capacities of culture and the inseparability both from the exercise of power and the glimmers of counterpower that mediate living. It was all about a subject without subjectivism. A subject constructed by external mechanism.”… Brain Massumi “Virtual Parables”

AL: Under the conditions described above the Kshara’s first task would seem to be one of deconstruction, no?