OPM 205, September 7th Mediation (2004 & 2014)

I spent a good part of today reading for my Heraclitus lecture.   I was reminded of his withdrawal from Ephesus, and, according to Diogenes, who wrote one of the few biographical accounts we have from antiquity, he lived in the forests and in the mountains, and lived on what he could gather there.   What’s more, the famous anecdote, relayed by Aristotle, of Heraclitus being visited by a group of strangers  -- a story that organizes my chapter on Heraclitus – can be read as indicating his having built some kind of hut in the mountains.   I had always imagined that scene as unfolding on the outskirts of the city, but it seems plausible, and much more interesting, to imagine it happening in a relatively remote hut that Heraclitus had built for himself in the forest outside of Ephesus.  And I wonder if Heidegger, whose seminar on Heraclitus with Eugene Fink is included in the material I am studying, might have had a bit of Heraclitus in him when he took up in his Black Forest hut?   And what of Thoreau at Walden?   Here is a pic of the wilderness outside of Ephesus.

Back to the legend…

“A great cloud of cool misty air rolled down the western side of the mountain range, covering rock, tree and all living beings like a damp blanket.  Zarathustra shivered, but did not awake.  ‘Sing songs, make music, and rise with me brother.  I am the ‘poet of space’ the child of ‘Sky and Earth, these two who are good for everyone, and hold Order.’   You remain silent, like the broken gong that once rang with pride and confidence.  While you sleep, your companions, your shadows, climb.  They will reach the peak while you lay, silent, reposed in this dormant state.  They will greet my arrival as I come rushing over the ridge for my morning play, and chase the mist that shrouds you in its cold grip.  You too will welcome me, but will find yourself abandoned again, alone without companion.  Too late will you rise, brother, if you do not heed my calling.  Listen, as your companions call to my parents and abandon you for the power they have been seeking.  This will to power they have concealed in their hiding by your side.  Listen!’

“A hymnal could be heard, softly.  Somewhere off in the distance of the dreamscape a choir could be heard.

         ‘Sky and earth,

         you mighty pair whose praises we have sung,

         grant us great fame and high sovereignty,

         by which we may extend our rule over the people for ever.

         Give us enormous force.’

“Zarathustra listened as the voices, in unison, rose with crescendo and extended the final word, ‘Force!’, so that it sounded like the clap of a mighty thunder.  A streak of light flashed across the sky, and a roll of thunder bounded in the forest.  Zarathustra slept on the glade, beside the river, and the din of the rapids absorbed the roar from the clouds.  The wind rose from the valley, the hot air from the arid and barren desert streaming upward, an offering to the gathering storm.  Another flash of lightning, another crash of thunder.  ‘Force!’  The Sky and Earth embraced, and the rain fell down upon the range and over the valley.

“Beneath the canopy of vine, limb, and leaf, Zarathustra slept on.  ‘Rest, child, and prepare yourself, for tomorrow you rise to greet your brother.  He is ‘the clever charioteer’ who speaks through the oracle, and lights upon you, the wanderer, the seeker.  It is said ‘With the power to make things clear, he purifies the universe by magic.  From the dappled milk-cow and the bull with good seed, every day he milks the milk that is his seed.  Most artful of the artful gods, he gave birth to the two world-halves, his parents, that are good for everyone.’  His lighting upon all who sing with freedom and make the world anew is the great gift of his parents that he begets to all who welcome his arrival. 

“Sky and Earth, we are, ‘wide and roomy, strong and inexhaustible, are the father and mother who protect the universe.’  Like two mighty limbs we reach out.  He is the warmth of our nurturing embrace, the heart beating between us as we gather the world of mortals.  He will teach you to make music, to gather in the company of friends, and dance upon the ground of peace, within the air, clear, open, expanding.  The hidden harmony will come forth with your songs of gratitude.  Plain-song shall you sing with the many you will find, and together you will be unified, performing the freedom in your peaceful gathering as you are sheltered from the wind and rain of the storm that rages above you.’

“A flash lit up the darkness, and the voices of the choirs cried out, now with desperation, as they had in the forest the morning of Zarathustra’s departure, ‘Give us enormous force!’ (09/07/04 with some editorial changes)

 This is one of the most audacious moments of the entire yearlong experiment.   It is organized around the song “Sky and Earth,’ from The Rig Veda.  The excerpt is ‘Sky and Earth, these two who are good for everyone, and hold Order’ is the first of the fragments that I borrow.   I have no recollection of turning to The Rig Veda, and presume it was a random find that felt right for inclusion.   The writing from this day ten years is truly audacious, but reminds me of the Chorus from Aeschylus’ Oresteia, a work I taught with passion a year ago in Honors College.   While it might appear to be an obvious observation, given the legend one of Zarathustra, it is clear that at this point in the writing there is definitely a connection happening with Nietzsche, one that I can recognize in revisiting the writing as happening via the influence of ancient song, poetry and drama, or what Nietzsche calls the origin of the birth of tragedy.