There are very few places where one finds Heidegger reading
from that Warburg’s ‘old book.’ He did
write a dialogue based on a conversation he had with a visiting Japanese
philosopher. And while I don’t have the
details in front of me, I know that at one point he was working on translation
of Lao Tzu’s Tao Te Ching. Otherwise, he mostly concerned himself with a
hermeneutics of the west, focusing most the ancients, and the preSocratics in
particular. So it is a pleasant surprise
when one reads a sentence, such as the following, which concluded the
meditation from July 11, 2004: “The
words ‘event of appropriation’ thought of in terms of the matter indicated,
should now speak as a key term in the service of thinking. As such a key term, it can no more be
translated than the Greek logos, or
the Chinese tao.”
This quotation prompts today’s commemoration because it
moves along the ongoing engagement with the ‘event of appropriation’ that has
captured my attention for the past week.
I have been thinking this event as ‘gathering’. However, the writing that took it up ten years
ago saw it as an occasion to explore further meditative thinking at the limits
of language, identifying the event with the meditated encounter with those
limits, or what I call the disclosure of ineffability. The just cited quotation returns me to this
aspect of the event. That it, reminds me
that the event of appropriation is a symbol of the boundary where ‘language’
encounters its limits. And this is
precisely why meditative thinking is an experience closer to that moment of
contemplation when the ‘I’ is dissolved and the ego emptied. If we recall Plotinus, who made a brief
cameo appearance, we can borrow his description of being-with the One. There is no description that can be made of
that experience, which only begs the (analytic) question: then how do you know you had an transcendent experience?
A way to sidestep this question is to dismiss it as question
from the discourse that is already predisposed to dismiss any experience that
cannot be verified discursively. While
I’m tempted to take this or a similar approach, I’m inclined to find the
question to be legitimate. I want to
meet the challenge of communicating the experience of contemplation, which I
have consistently identified as a step beyond meditation. Meditation takes us to contemplation, but is
not an experience we will ourselves into.
On the contrary, it happens when we will non-willing, which is precisely
what happens via meditative thinking.
So I can say something about preparing for contemplation by describing a
quietude that takes us toward the aforementioned limits of language. As I’ve repeated many times: meditative
thinking begins with listening, hearing, with silence, and in this case, it is
not the silence of the restraint regarding critique of the past and present
state of affairs, but the silence of saying, the restraint from any speaking, the
focus on breathing, and the calming of the discursive mind. At
this beginning we shift our energy from the mind to the heart, which is the
gateway or threshold beyond language and toward contemplation. The event of appropriation happens through
the heart.
The shift from the mind to the heart is a central focus of
the writing this day ten years ago, and we see this in the predominance of the
word ‘compassion’. “Compassion is the
ek-static leap taken…” The leap of
faith, the leap of hope, the arrival of the perceived future? Not yet.
This is the second leap. The one
taken by the empowered self, the one who returns from the event of appropriation. Compassion is the shift to the heart, a
transcendent moment when the suffering of the present (the passion) gives way
to a kinship with the totality, when we find ourselves in communion with the seemingly
infinite fecundity of life. The
transcendentalists like Thoreau and Emerson wrote of this, and there’s no
question they were also reading from Warburg’s ‘old book,’ specifically the
chapters on the two Indian philosophies:
the ancient Indigenous teachings of the Wabanaki, the Penobscot, et al,
and the ancient Vedic teachings, especially the Gita. Here we discover that
the kinship between ancient traditions is an expression of the ontological
connection between humanity and the totality (Being) meditated by the bridge
that links Nature and Spirit. Can human
consciousness capable of locating this bridge?
Or perhaps the question is: can the human being be located on this bridge? If so, perhaps meditative thinking prepares
us to be relocated there? And perhaps it
is the human heart that guides us when we are placed there?
In light of these questions it is worth quoting again the
citation that concludes OPM 148: “…what the term ‘event of appropriation’
wishes to indicate really speaks to us directly from the very nearness of that
neighborhood in which we already reside.
For what could be closer to us than what brings us nearer to where we
belong, to where we are belongers, to the event of appropriation?”
Here then, is a fragment distilled from the writing from this day, ten years ago:
Meditative thinking happens through various turnings, some that are defined as re-turns. Of these, the turn from the mind to the heart is the one that directs us into meditative thinking.
3.0 - (Friday, Portland, ME) - I have a very brief window of time to write a few sentences in response to the OPM from this day 20 years ago, and the 2.0 commentary. In the limited amount of time I have I want to respond to the question posed above, the (analytic) question, Then how do you know you had an transcendent experience? "Know" is italicized for emphasis. I want to reiterate what I wrote in my 3.0 commentary two days ago: this analytic question can never be answered by phenomenology. It is an epistemological question. At best the phenomenologist can respond. I have described 'X' in this way. 'X' has disclosed itself in this way, and I am doing my best to offer an account of that disclosure. The same can be true of offering an account of an experience. It is never a matter of 'certainty' or of 'knowledge'. One has an experience. One describes that experience as best as one can after the fact. The 'evidence' is the description. On the one hand, the 'problem' is that the phenomenologist can be accused of subjectivism, of only ever being able to offer an account of the way he experiences something, the way the world is disclosed, whether that be objectively (materially) or experientially. But the phenomenological epoché is designed to bracket the ordinary and/or normal way of thinking. It is designed to avoid the charge of subjectivism.
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