10.SING WITH SHAKESPEARE-4
Body and Soul: traditional views
Life and Death- these are the ultimate questions. Like sunlight and shadow, they are two sides of the same phenomenon. Yet western civilization considers the subject of death taboo. In India we have no such fear or prejudice. In the Upanishads, we have the story of the boy Nachiketas who encountered Death and extracted from Yama, the Lord of Death, the secret of Life! We have the story of Savitri who argued with Yama and restored her dead husband to life, which is still celebrated as an annual festival by married Hindu women! In historical times, we have the story of the Prince Siddhartha who witnessed disease, decay, old age and death and meditating on them for a solution, became the Buddha, the Enlightened. Recently, we have the instance of the boy Venkataraman , who as a robust lad of 17 was seized by sudden fear of death. Not avoiding the subject , he boldly inquired into it according to his native light, and emerged as Ramana Maharshi! [Ramana-the conqueror of marana!] This tradition shows that the secret of life is embedded in the mystery of death .
The pre-modern world held definite 'knowledge' on the subject. It was more or less the same , with variations, across cultures all over the world. Very simply, it can be stated as under:
- Man is an infinite being - Spirit; he continues beyond bodily death.
- What comes after physical death is even higher or more important than life in the world, here and now.
- The quality of that afterlife will depend on our actions in this life, and we would be judged accordingly. Life in this world is therefore a preparation for a higher life. [Hindus have the theory of karma accounting for rebirth.]
- People may live in heaven or be consigned to hell depending on their life here. [ Hindus do not believe in permanent heaven or hell. Man's ultimate destiny is Liberation- freedom from the cycle of birth and death.]
Modern uncertainty and confusion
Since the 17th century, with the rise of science, focus has shifted almost exclusively to life in the world, and the age-old higher truths are denied. But modern science or philosophy has no definite view or consolation to offer! All our attention is turned to the physical body and its comforts,in the name of humanism, though no method yet known to science can take away its perishability.
Psychosynthesis. Charles Smith.Bastyr University
Measure for Measure
We have several passages in Shakespeare's works reflecting on the question.
In 'Measure for Measure', Shakespeare questions life and demolishes the general belief that it is unmixed good! Here, Claudio is condemned to death, and the Duke of Vienna, disguised as a friar, consoles him that death may not be as unreliable as life!
CLAUDIO.
The miserable have no other medicine
But only hope:
I have hope to live, and am prepar'd to die
The miserable have no other medicine
But only hope:
I have hope to live, and am prepar'd to die
DUKE VINCENTIO
Be absolute for death; either death or life
Shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus with life, —
If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing
That none but fools would keep: a breath thou art,
Servile to all the skiey influences,
That dost this habitation, where thou keep'st
Hourly afflict; mere'y, thou art death's fool;
For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun,
And yet runn'st toward him still.
Shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus with life, —
If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing
That none but fools would keep: a breath thou art,
Servile to all the skiey influences,
That dost this habitation, where thou keep'st
Hourly afflict; mere'y, thou art death's fool;
For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun,
And yet runn'st toward him still.
Thou art not noble;
For all the accommodations that thou bear'st
Are nurs'd by baseness.
For all the accommodations that thou bear'st
Are nurs'd by baseness.
Thou art by no means valiant;
For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork
Of a poor worm. Thy best of rest is sleep,
And that thou oft provok'st; yet grossly fear'st
Thy death, which is no more.
For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork
Of a poor worm. Thy best of rest is sleep,
And that thou oft provok'st; yet grossly fear'st
Thy death, which is no more.
Thou art not thyself:
For thou exist'st on many a thousand grains
That issue out of dust.
Happy thou art not;
For what thou hast not, still thou striv'st to get;
And what thou hast, forgett'st.
For thou exist'st on many a thousand grains
That issue out of dust.
Happy thou art not;
For what thou hast not, still thou striv'st to get;
And what thou hast, forgett'st.
Thou art not certain;
For thy complexion shifts to strange effects,
For thy complexion shifts to strange effects,
After the moon. If thou art rich, thou'rt poor;
For, like as ass whose back with ingots bows,
Thou bear's thy heavy riches but a journey,
And death unloads thee.
Friend hast thou none;
For thine own bowels, which do call thee sire,
The mere effusion of thy proper loins,
Do curse the gout,serpigo, and the rheum,
For ending thee no sooner.
Thou has nor youth nor age,
But, as it were, an after-dinner's sleep,
Dreaming on both, for all thy blessed youth,
Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms
Of palsied eld; and when thou art old and rich,
Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty,
To make thy riches pleasant.
What's yet in this
That bears the name of life? Yet in this life
Lie hid moe thousand deaths: yet death we fear,
That makes these odds all even.
For, like as ass whose back with ingots bows,
Thou bear's thy heavy riches but a journey,
And death unloads thee.
Friend hast thou none;
For thine own bowels, which do call thee sire,
The mere effusion of thy proper loins,
Do curse the gout,serpigo, and the rheum,
For ending thee no sooner.
Thou has nor youth nor age,
But, as it were, an after-dinner's sleep,
Dreaming on both, for all thy blessed youth,
Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms
Of palsied eld; and when thou art old and rich,
Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty,
To make thy riches pleasant.
What's yet in this
That bears the name of life? Yet in this life
Lie hid moe thousand deaths: yet death we fear,
That makes these odds all even.
CLAUDIO.
I humbly thank you.
To sue to live, I find I seek to die;
And, seeking death, find life. Let it come on.
To sue to live, I find I seek to die;
And, seeking death, find life. Let it come on.
Here, the Duke is trying to argue that life is more threatening than death! Life ebbs out one day, only fools get attached to it! One may run away from death, but cannot avoid it! One is attached to life not out of nobility but base considerations. One is not brave, as one fears even the smallest thing in life! The best rest in life is sleep, but even that is disturbed. Yet, is not death itself like sleep? What are we but the food we have eaten? One is not happy, striving for all that one does not have! One cannot be certain of anything in life. Even if one is rich, it is like a donkey carrying a load, for one will have to leave everything when one goes! One has no true friends here, even one's children will consider one a burden, when one becomes old and ill! The body gets infirm, one cannot enjoy the riches. What is there in this that you call life? Life hides death, yet we fear death. Better to resolve once for all!
These arguments may not be taken as the absolute truth, valid beyond the immediate context. They make a kind of sophistry, as the Greeks would call it, but they do make some sense, to balance things!
Death and sleep
Shakespeare says that "the best of rest is sleep". Sleep is indeed like each day's death! Thus in Macbeth:
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprise of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry
And lose the name of action.
These arguments may not be taken as the absolute truth, valid beyond the immediate context. They make a kind of sophistry, as the Greeks would call it, but they do make some sense, to balance things!
Death and sleep
Shakespeare says that "the best of rest is sleep". Sleep is indeed like each day's death! Thus in Macbeth:
the innocent sleep,
Sleep that knits up the raveled sleave of care,
The death of each day’s life, sore labor’s bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course,
Chief nourisher in life’s feast.
In the Indian tradition too, death is regarded as a kind of sleep. Tiruvalluvar says:
Death is like unto sleep; and life, that is waking after that sleep. Kural,339
Our scriptures go even a step further and say that sleep is daily pralaya- that is dissolution of the universe, for in sleep we are not aware of the world!
Hamlet : To be or not to be !
The subject of death as sleep gets further consideration in Hamlet, in this famous passage:
HAMLET: To be, or not to be--that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
And by opposing end them. To die, to sleep--
No more--and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished.
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
And by opposing end them. To die, to sleep--
No more--and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished.
To die, to sleep--
To sleep--perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub,
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th' unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin?
To sleep--perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub,
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th' unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin?
Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovered country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovered country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprise of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry
And lose the name of action.
This is one of the most significant passages in the whole of English literature. Here, Hamlet is contemplating suicide. Life is so full of troubles; it looks better to die , which looks like no more than sleep. But then, we may get bad dreams and find greater misery there! " It is an undiscovered country." May be, compared to these unknown ills, the troubles we face in life are bearable! So, when we think deeply we become a bit of cowards, "conscience does make cowards of us all", and cannot be certain of the action. Here, Hamlet is thinking or talking for all of us.
Edwin Booth, Hamlet 1870. By Andrew Smith
CC BY-SA 2.0
To be, or not to be- life or death! The ultimate unresolved question of modern philosophy! Modern philosophy is no more than verbal jugglery and senseless speculation. Modern systems like existentialism are in the end plain nihilistic jumble. They make of man a finite being, without connections, alienated even from himself. What can such a system offer to man by way of advice or guidance to face life or death?
The old philosophies were all better. They considered man as a greater being than his body, grandly connected. He was not alone, though he was not aware of his connections! It was the duty of the philosopher, and function of religion, to remind him of his connections in the cosmos and show him a path to realise this fact in his life. This was the one practical end of all religions and old philosophies, whatever may have been their verbal formulation and ceremonial and other details. Shakespeare is such a universal spirit that he cannot miss this point or mince his words. He reiterates the old view that the soul is greater than the body and does not die. This realisation alone makes us conquer death!
From You Tube.
Poor soul, the center of my sinful earth,
[Thrall to]these rebel pow'rs that thee array,
THRALL TO
Due to a printer’s error in the earliest edition of the Sonnets, no one knows what Shakespeare intended for the first two syllables of line 2. The guesses editors have made over the centuries include “Thrall to,” “Hemm’d by,” “Fool’d by, “Foil’d by,” and “Feeding.”[Thrall to] these rebel pow'rs that thee array,
Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth,
Painting thy outward walls so costly gay?
Why so large cost, having so short a lease,
Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend?
Shall worms, inheritors of this excess,
Eat up thy charge? Is this thy body’s end?
Then, soul, live thou upon thy servant’s loss,
And let that pine to aggravate thy store;
Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross;
Within be fed, without be rich no more.
So shalt thou feed on death, that feeds on men,
And death once dead, there’s no more dying then.
We spend so much time and bestow so much care on the body even though it lasts only a short time. The body is pampered in all possible ways, while the soul starves! Yet the body is eaten by worms in the end! Is this supposed to be the destiny of the body? Rather, pay attention to the soul. This way, we may eat up death, which eats up the body! Once the immortality of the soul is realised, where is the question of death then?
Conquest of death
Sri Ramana Maharshi
This matter is entirely sidetracked by modern authorities in any field. The established religions are unable to assert themselves. In modern times, it is Ramana Maharshi who stated this clearly: that realising one's true identity as not the body, is the way to conquer the fear of death. This can be done theologically, by believing in God, and also by realising the formless Self or Absolute.[Care: this is not mere intellectual conviction but spiritual practice.] In the second invocatory verse to The Forty Verses on Reality, he wrote:
மரணபய மிக்குள அம்மக்கள் அரணாக
மரணபவ மில்லா மகேசன் - சரணமே
சார்வர்தஞ் சார்வொடு தாஞ் சாவுற்றார் சாவெண்ணம்
சார்வரோ சாவாதவர்.
We do not generally think of Shakespeare as a religious or moral philosopher. But here he states clearly the traditional wisdom that the soul is eternal, and identification with the soul is embracing immortality!
Is this not a happy and hopeful thought, as against the mournful sophistry of modern philosophers and scientists?
May their tribe decline!
Conquest of death
This matter is entirely sidetracked by modern authorities in any field. The established religions are unable to assert themselves. In modern times, it is Ramana Maharshi who stated this clearly: that realising one's true identity as not the body, is the way to conquer the fear of death. This can be done theologically, by believing in God, and also by realising the formless Self or Absolute.[Care: this is not mere intellectual conviction but spiritual practice.] In the second invocatory verse to The Forty Verses on Reality, he wrote:
மரணபய மிக்குள அம்மக்கள் அரணாக
மரணபவ மில்லா மகேசன் - சரணமே
சார்வர்தஞ் சார்வொடு தாஞ் சாவுற்றார் சாவெண்ணம்
சார்வரோ சாவாதவர்.
Those who are in fear of death seek refuge at the feet of the deathless, birthless Lord Supreme. Then their egos and attachments die.[ The "I am the body" idea dies: They no more confuse the body with their real Self.] Attaining deathlessness thus, they are no more afraid of death. [ In the earlier Invocatory verse, Ramana spoke of the formless Absolute.]
We do not generally think of Shakespeare as a religious or moral philosopher. But here he states clearly the traditional wisdom that the soul is eternal, and identification with the soul is embracing immortality!
Is this not a happy and hopeful thought, as against the mournful sophistry of modern philosophers and scientists?
May their tribe decline!
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