Flesh and Spirit - living between two universes, where one transitions into the other

केनेषितं पतति प्रेषितं मनः केन प्राणः प्रथमः प्रैति युक्तः
केनेषितां वाचमिमां वदन्ति

"Moved by what flies the sent-out mind?
Yoked by what goes forth the life breath first?
By what is sent out this speech they speak?

(Kena Upanishad 1,1)

Beyond man, there is a 'what,' which although it does not belong to man, nevertheless belongs to him. Man is the medium through which 'what does not have the nature of life' becomes part of life. The immaterial enters the material through these doors: mind, breath, and word.

However, the unresolved question remains: केन, kena, 'by what?' By what do mind, breath, and word originate? These elements transcend man because they originate from beyond him.

But that केन, kena, needs the flesh, the bones, and the word of real humanity to find expression in the world. Already Saint Augustine had made a distinction between two different worlds (civitates): [...] civitates duas secundum Scripturas nostras merito appellare possemus. Una quippe est hominum secundum carnem, altera secundum spiritum vivere in sui cuiusque generis pace volentium [...] two cities, according to the language of our Scriptures. The one consists of those who wish to live after the flesh, the other of those who wish to live after the spirit (De Civitate Dei, XIV, 1).

The flesh in itself, in its nature, is not evil; even Saint Augustine admits it: [...] quid sit secundum carnem vivere (quod profecto malum est, cum ipsa carnis natura non sit malum) [...] what is it to live according to the flesh (which is certainly evil, although the very nature of the flesh is not evil) [...].

(De Civitate Dei, XIV, 2.2).

This is why that केन can adhere to the flesh and be what it is and will be.

Comments

Poetry dwells near the divine light's breath

The comparison between poetry and divine light that we proposed HERE finds its perfect explanation in Saint Paul, Letters to the Romans I,19: τὸ γνωστὸν τοῦ θεοῦ φανερόν ἐστιν ἐν αὐτοῖς, ὁ ⸂θεὸς γὰρ αὐτοῖς ἐφανέρωσεν , what can be known of God was manifested to them (in men), indeed God manifested to them. Poetry unveils in the human being the need to be human, i.e.the need for Beauty, for feeling the Beauty in itself and with itself, and this feeling is supported by the divine light. As we are influenced by the idea of Saint Augustine of saeculum , we maintain that poetry belongs to the saeculum and therefore stops on the threshold of the divine light [ I] without crossing that threshold, but it senses the light beyond that threshold. We are taken to that threshold by the human feeling of Beauty within us that leads us up to there: up to that door that it is not possible to cross in our being human, but nevertheless, the very dwelling on that threshold is illuminated by the ve...

Similarities between Lithuanian, Sanskrit and Ancient Greek: the sigmatic future

by Fabrizio Ulivieri Lithuanian is the most archaic among all the Indo-European languages spoken today, and as a result it is very useful, indeed, indispensable in the study of Indo-European linguistics. The most important fact is that Lithuanian is not only very archaic, but still very much alive, i. e., it is spoken by about three and a half million people. It has a rich tradition in folklore, in literature, and it is used very successfully in all walks of modern life, including the most advanced scientific research. Forced by our interest for this piece of living archaism, we go deeper in our linguistic survey. One of the most noticeable similarities is the future (- sigmatic future -). Lithuanian has preserved a future tense from prehistoric times: it has one single form, e.g. kalbė-siu 'I will speak', etc. kalbė-si kalbė-s kalbė-sime kalbė-site kalbė-s This form kalbėsiu is made from the stem kalbė-(ti) 'to speak', plus the ancient stem-end...

My world before and after the so-called Pandemic

Prior to the so-called pandemic, the world was different. I was different. One of my greatest moments of pleasure was visiting unknown cities, lost in the unknown, following an unknown flux of life surrounded by unknown streets and people. I felt invisible. No one knew me, and I knew no one. That gave me a strong sense of pleasure. The pleasure of doing things you usually avoid in places where everyday life, routine, and the fear of showing yourself in a way people are not accustomed to expecting from you. I am not sure what I was looking for in doing this. I remember I felt pushed to search for the essence of that world, as I could physically taste that essence. I was looking for an aura of mystery which could rescue me from my nothingness (I called it nothingness, but now I should call it stupidity—because now I realize what an idiot I was). I hoped for goodness from the world, I hoped for a magic of life, I hoped for an encounter which would be my Saviour, the Savi...

Fabrizio Ulivieri - Content Creator

Search This Blog