A deva asks the Nikāya Buddha, “One who loves the good, what should she not give away, not surrender?” The Buddha answered, “A person should not give herself away. She should not relinquish herself.” (From the Devasamyutta section, of the Samyutta Nikāya.)
I’ve travelled a lot today. For a part of my travel, I was alone, and I had some lovely periods of inner quiet; just being in presence. And, it might have been this quite time which incubated tonight’s reflection. In moments of presence it is clear that I am not my content – not my five sentient processes. Then the mind is clear, and still, in presence. Like the pool, in which Narcissus saw only his reflection. Anyhow, whatever brought it, it’s this: I’ve been asking, “What if love is not content, not a constituent of experience?”
Since I shared the story of Narcissus, I have been thinking more of the plight of Echo than I have of Narcissus. Of course, I could easily talk about how Echo was organised in her heart-mind – how her five sentient processes were functioning – such that her infatuation with Narcissus would bring about her fading away into air. But, instead, I find myself thinking of a quote from Hubert Benoit:
“When I observe myself, I see that I incessantly tend to modify my ordinary situation with all that I am. It is perfectly legitimate that I tend to modify my situation; that is the incessant and normal play of all my natural impulses.”
In other words, if Echo is attached to Narcissus, the difficulty is not in the attachment, per se. That, after all, is the natural play of her impulses.
“But what is not normal is the tendency in me, being man and not animal, to modify my temporal situation with all that I am. In effect, I have in me, beside the tendency to be temporally, the tendency just “to be,” without limits, in an absolute way. The first tendency is limited, the second extends the first to infinity.”
In other words, if Echo is attached to Narcissus, the difficulty for her, more than anything, is her lack of attention to the bigger context – to the ‘beingness’ of what is going on here. What she needed was a zig-zag between the beingness and her impulses. She, just like Narcissus, was unable to see that to place all of one’s attention at the disposal of the modifying tendencies (saṅkhāras) is to give oneself away utterly. In that condition, one not only makes oneself a slave to others, but to one’s own impulses. One then only sees the surfaces of things, just as Narcissus only saw the surface of the pool.
Likewise, Narcissus’ lack of attention to being meant that he had a distorted (heartless) relationship to Echo (and to the others who desired him). Being is without limits – it doesn’t have signs, features, anything to grasp – and so is not any kind of ‘content.’ It can’t be conceived of. When I am giving attention to the instant, then I, too, am not content. I become immeasurable. Conversely, if I am not paying attention to the instant, then I am lost in appearances. I have given myself away to appearances. I become lost in the form, the sounds, the smell, the taste, the touch of the other. “A tenth of an inch’s difference, and heaven and earth are set apart,” says Seng-ts’an.
I imagine that people would agree that love is not content, yet… how often do we mistake sensation for love? The sensation of pleasure, coming from the excitement of seeing, hearing, sensing, and thinking of another, may be a kind of love; but it is mixed. Just as gold ore is mixed with impurities.
This makes me appreciate the image of the Narcissus flowers, which flowered out of the heartless hunter’s death, by that still forest pool.