It
would be better to be infected with typhus ... than to be infected with
this blindness which prevents you from understanding HOW you are
undermined...
— Ezra Pound
March 15, 1942
We
won’t ever overcome the reason for our being here. Meaning is not
something we define; it is something we realize and embody — unless we
don’t. Most people do not and cannot: It is not their fate to not
undermine themselves. All are born for a specific reason — even if that
reason has nothing to do with one’s individual existence: We are part
of a transcendent unfolding that surpasses us in every way and demands
that most never rise to its level of knowing. This is our dharma, and our approach turns the world to slums.
Fate
is fate and will is will — each happens of its own accord. Who will be
the first to overcome his existence as a vessel for fated will’s
unfolding? Whoever he be and if you discover him, ask him about God, for
he will be the first to find him. He is the “big medicine” inoculated
against typhus and blindness; he will have understood what it means to
not undermine himself.
Meantime,
we’re adrift and wandering, if not wondering. We wonder at the tall
tales arising from the unembellished, primordial core. What does it mean
to walk on water or see the infinite cosmos in the mouth of Krishna if
not the overcoming of fate?
The
Vedas/Vedānta, which present the core Indo-Āryan tenets, predate the
popular stories by centuries, if not millennia. That is, the popular,
more accessible stories arose out of an ancient, likely prehistoric
philosophy — a cypher. For instance, there is no Krishna-Avatāra in the
Vedas¹ — his incredible stories came much later. Likewise, there was no embodiment of the Word (logos)
at the beginning; this came later. In the beginning was the Word — but
few can relate to this, so time reifies the inaccessible.
For many people, ancient — core
— philosophy can be quite difficult to understand. Its abstract
metaphysics, having been developed by esoteric gatekeepers, is not meant
for all. The top of a mountain is not meant for those unable to climb,
and sick limbs fall from trees. Not all are equal, despite the
bastardized tales woven for lesser ears. The Indo-Āryan gatekeepers were
the Brāhmaṇas (“priests,” philosophers) and Kṣatriyas (kings/queens/warriors). What they divined through intense effort was not intended for laypeople (Vaiśyas [skilled
workers] and Śūdras [unskilled workers]) — i.e., it was not intended
for those without the means of exercising such effort. But — the word
spread of its own accord; not only did some in the lower castes take
very naturally to the abstract philosophy, its diffusion was also
fostered for social cohesion; that is, the philosophy became a religion.
Creative (and sometimes manipulative) people transformed abstruse
philosophy into accessible tales to nurture its growth (i.e., to mold
society). Since most people don’t naturally take to abstract philosophy,
the stories became the culture. This is exotericism predominating over esotericism, which always and inevitably happens.
The
core philosophy still exists, as it has for millennia; but primordial
philosophy is not outward facing (exoteric), and so it does not become cultural
in the same way that incredible stories and images do. People often
relate to what is most accessible. This corresponds to the Indo-Āryan
idea of “caste,” wherein the vast majority of people are not the
intended targets of the esoteric message (knowledge/gnosis, jñāna).² This is why Vivekananda (d. 1902), for instance, says that love (devotion, bhakti) is different from union (knowledge/gnosis, jñāna).
Love is wonderful, but it does not lead to liberation, which comes only
from union. This idea is Vedāntic, which is to say, it is a very
ancient idea; but this is something that is unrelatable
for most people. Thus, if people cannot reach liberation, at least they
can be decent (via love). Exotericism (story, culture) is meant to
engender love and decency (devotion). Esotericism (the core philosophy),
on the other hand, is meant to reveal the union (liberation).
Core
philosophy, not matter its character, is exclusivist, which is to say,
it is not meant for all people. Not everyone can be liberated (or
“enlightened”) since this goes against Nature and the essence of
metaphysics. The masses understand meta-physics through quaint stories: Man doesn’t defy fate — he walks on water. This is part of what makes religion so charming. For Indo-Āryanism (Hinduism), its plurality makes it meaningful for all — if you don’t reach liberation in “this life,” don’t worry — you’ll get another chance! It’s a nice message.
A
nice message, but the Word becomes dogma and man misses the point; he
undermines himself. No matter what he does, man undermines himself, for
this is his fate.³ Esotericism all but dissolves and we are left with uninspired (i.e., devoid of primal meaning) exotericism — dogma — wherein truth and its imposition become obligatory. Man misses his humility,
which was ever the inspiration for sacred knowledge. Instead, in or out
of religious contexts, we end up with a profane, divinely mandated will-to-dominate. The rest is history and its end, which is to say, the Kali Yuga.
∞ • ∞
All
these people — they all got white-tiled toilets and take big dirty
craps like bears in the mountains, but it’s all washed away to
convenient supervised sewers and nobody thinks of crap anymore or
realizes that their origin is shit and civet and scum of the sea. They
spend all day washing their hands with creamy soaps they secretly wanta
eat in the bathroom.⁴
Japhy Ryder, the hero of Kerouac’s The Dharma Bums, said this. Ryder, of course, is Gary Snyder, the great poet and environmentalist. Snyder was concerned, above all, with humility, which is to say, with esotericism.
It is inconceivable that, collectively, we could ravage the Earth if we
had even a shred of humility. But our lack of humility is our
profanity. Ancient philosophy was born out of the ancient heart, which,
in turn, was born out of ancient land. And now man wants nothing more
than to destroy his creator — for profit. This is secularism, in or out
of religious contexts — the ritual destruction of self.
Man’s fate is to technicize himself into oblivion, that he might better
stomach his existence with indoor plumbing, hair plugs, cosmetic
surgery, camera filters, air fresheners, “strong men,” and Western
suits.
We hear more of Snyder (Ryder):
[Kerouac:] Ah, Japhy — you taught me the final lesson of them all: You can’t fall off a mountain.
[Snyder:] And that’s what they mean by the saying, When you get to the top of a mountain keep climbing...
[Kerouac:] Dammit
that yodel of triumph of yours was the most beautiful thing I ever
heard in my life. I wish I’d a had a tape recorder to take it down.
[Snyder:] Those things aren’t made to be heard by the people below, says Japhy dead serious.⁵
When you get to the top of a mountain, keep climbing. When you think you have mastered anything, look again — have humility — know thyself. Know that, in fact, your mastery is mere rationalization or technicization. You are not the backward God in Dogma. Nevertheless, we think, God is on Our Side; so we relentlessly pursue dominion. We must forget self at any cost (imposition). We live it up with so much winning:
“Look at the party the other night,” Snyder tells Kerouac, “Everybody
wanted to have a good time and tried real hard but we all woke up the
next day feeling sorta sad and separate.”⁶ But a little alienation never stopped anyone in his pursuit of an accessible mastery of the imponderable.
Kerouac nonetheless imagines Snyder, later in life, separate, alienated
— not through blind adherence to a gigantic misapprehension of self,
but through his determination to live with a humility that can only
arise out of defiant connectedness to sacred principles.
But
there was a wisdom in it all, as you’ll see if you take a walk some
night on a suburban street and pass house after house on both sides of
the street each with the lamplight of the living room, shining golden,
and inside the little blue square of the television, each living family
riveting its attention on probably one show; nobody talking; silence in
the yards; dogs barking at you because you pass on human feet instead of
on wheels. You’ll see what I mean, when it begins to appear like
everybody in the world is soon going to be thinking the same way... Only
one thing I’ll say for the people watching television, the millions and
millions of the One Eye: they’re not hurting anyone while they’re
sitting in front of that Eye. But neither was Japhy. I see him in future
years stalking along with full rucksack, in suburban streets, passing
the blue television windows of homes, alone, his thoughts the only
thoughts not electrified to the Master Switch.⁷
Snyder
did (and does) remain separate — at least as much as anyone can in this
Kali Yuga. But Kerouac was wrong about this: the millions glued to the
One Eye do indeed hurt ... everyone. This is the cosmic miscalculation that fate demands. Why monoculture through mass media? Why the will-to-dominate
in a profane windfall of modernity? Why the mass covering of sight and
scent with meaningless appurtenances? Because exotericism arose out of
esotericism — Because laymen were given sledgehammers instead of keys —
Because Sherpas and horses carry lame feet high:
If ye would go up high, then use your own legs! Do not get yourselves carried aloft; do not seat yourselves on other people’s backs and heads!
Thou
hast mounted, however, on horseback? Thou now ridest briskly up to thy
goal? Well, my friend! But thy lame foot is also with thee on horseback!
When thou reachest thy goal, when thou alightest from thy horse: precisely on thy height, thou higher man, — then wilt thou stumble!⁸
And so we stumble; and so we undermine ourselves.
During the events of The Dharma Bums, Snyder was in his mid twenties (those “beat and evil days”⁹).
Yet, as Kerouac foretold, Snyder stayed separate from the vain and
veiled masses throughout his life, carrying rucksacks of a different
kind past the dull, blue-tinted multitude: he carries the burden of
humility.
In
their practice of killing and eating with gentleness and thanks, the
primary peoples are our teachers: the attitude toward animals, and their
treatment, in twentieth-century American industrial meat production is
literally sickening, unethical, and a source of boundless bad luck for
this society.
An
ethical life is one that is mindful, mannerly, and has style. Of all
moral failings and flaws of character, the worst is stinginess of
thought, which includes meanness in all its forms. Rudeness in thought
or deed toward others, toward nature, reduces the chances of
conviviality and interspecies communication, which are essential to
physical and spiritual survival.¹⁰
It
takes humility to give a damn about another. The hubristic wide world —
emboldened by their possession of “the word” they couldn’t possibly
begin to apply — could care less, of course. Instead, many feel glee at
the misfortune of others and pride if they can inflict it.¹¹
It is notable that Snyder highlights ill attitudes and behaviors as
sources “of boundless bad luck” for us. Indeed, they are! What could be
more inauspicious than man’s inevitable drive to undermine himself,
through imposition, through hubris? Moreover, Snyder marks thought — this simple, yet largely ungraspable act — as the forerunner to freedom (liberation, union). Freedom, of course, is survival in this Kali Yuga; but this cannot happen, lest one commune with the hidden God.¹²
Elsewhere, Snyder laments the (again inevitable) corporate-state¹³ predating its people and unwittingly cannibalizing
itself: “When [deprived of their means of subsistence] ... the
villagers must buy energy, lumber, and medicine at the company store,
they are pauperized.”¹⁴
When governments enslave (pauperize) their people, how can they hope to
be free? Corporate states are devoted only to expanding profit margins —
a bhakti [or a devilish kama] toward material prosperity. This amounts to a loving-toward-death, a cosmic disunion that is unencumbered by a modicum of thought or — humility.
“Eventually,” Snyder rightly predicts, “our complicated industrial
capitalist/socialist mixes will bring down much of the living system
that supports us.”¹⁵ Political machinations (driven by economic rapacity and profound spiritual ignorance) leave man-as-being in the lurch.¹⁶ Mass application of sacredness [so visible in churchs and sects in USA ]has rendered sacredness meaningless and stripped us of any guiding principles. Whim directs us now, not thought; though this whim is of another and not born of what we imagine to be our
will. “That older human experience of a fluid, indistinct, but genuine
home region was gradually replaced — across Eurasia — by the arbitrary
and often violently imposed boundaries of emerging national states,”
Snyder tells us.
These
imposed borders sometimes cut across biotic areas and ethnic zones
alike. Inhabitants lost ecological knowledge and community solidarity.
In the old ways, the flora and fauna and landforms are part of the
culture. The world of culture and nature, which is actual, is almost a
shadow world now, and the insubstantial world of political jurisdictions
and rarefied economies is what passes for reality. We live in a
backwards time.¹⁷
On the contrary, we live in a radically forward
time — a time of relentless undermining — a time of the dharma slums,
the inescapable Kali Yuga [Dark or Iron Age]. We march toward a future that already
confines us. Slums and Lords of the future will undoubtedly throw away
the key for subsequent Gary Snyders and Ezra Pounds, and all will embody
fantastical stories of the stifled self. “We’ve lost the knowledge of
how to use the power that’s in us by an overreliance on powers outside
of us”¹⁸ — It takes
humility and thought to find the primordial knowledge of the earliest
bums in the slums. Alas, our devotion to the eternal other will win out
in the end.»
1 Viṣṇu, however, is mentioned in the Rig Veda — as a solar deity who crosses the heavens in three steps. Compare this imagery with the ancient triskelion — three “steps” (e.g., Isle of Man flag) or suns (Neolithic symbol) reminiscent of the most ancient of sun signs, the svastika.
2 Sommer, “Knowledge, Gnosis, and Jñāna: The Path to God,” Arktos Journal (January 2026).
3 This fate is something I exhaustively detail in my Arktos trilogy: (1) The New Colossus (2025), (2) The Electric Will (2026), and (3) Supreme Being (2026, forthcoming).
4 Jack Kerouac, The Dharma Bums (1958), Ch. 6.
5 Ibid., Ch. 12.
6 Ibid., Ch. 29.
7 Ibid., Ch. 13.
8 Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Part IV, “The Higher Man.”
9 Kerouac, On the Road (1957), Ch. 11.
10 Gary Snyder, The Practice of the Wild (1990), “The Etiquette of Freedom.”
11Sommer, The New Colossus, Part I, §11.
12 This notion, alluded to above, will be developed in Supreme Being (2026, forthcoming).
13 Sommer, The New Colossus, Part II, §1.
14 Snyder, The Practice of the Wild, “The Place, the Region, and the Commons”
15 Ibid.
16“Being” as a metaphysical concept is developed over my Arktos trilogy.
17 Snyder, The Practice of the Wild, “The Place, the Region, and the Commons.”
18 Snyder, SUNY Writers Forum, November 8, 1972.
