OEUVRE
Oeuvre is a clear and at the same time almost untranslatable word. One could say "creation," but still that connotation in which oeuvre issued from the French literature remains to be understood.
People are accustomed to judge art in all its manifestations rather light-mindedly. Someone has read two poems and is prepared to judge a poet. Someone saw three or four paintings, or reproductions of the paintings, and is ready to judge the artist. One novel alone suffices to define the author. One book of essays is sufficient for making an irrevocable decision while having a cup of tea.
The proverbial "cup of tea" so often mentioned in works of literature does not entail any obligations. Possibly, also, the opinions uttered at the tea table should not be binding, and yet they often do have profound results. In these conversations, the "cup of tea" people do not stop to think that separate works are only petals of the entire oeuvre. It is not likely that an experienced gardener or a botanist would presume to judge the whole plant from one petal of a flower.
Everyone has had occasion to hear very definite judgments about authors from people who in reality have read but one volume of the works of that author. And how often are judgments pronounced solely on the basis of newspaper reviews without the trouble being taken even to read that which was criticized. Then, truly, for the appreciation of a whole creative work, no matter to what realm it belongs, the concept of oeuvre must be brought out particularly clearly. In order to form a just opinion of any author, not only is an adequate acquaintance with the entire scope of his creativeness needed but one should view the works in the chronological order of their creation.
The full scope of one's creativeness is like a necklace of gems matched in a definite order. Each work expresses some psychological moment in the life of the creator. The life of the artist is molded out of these moments. In order to understand the effect one should know the cause. One should understand why that particular order was followed in the creative process. What outer and inner circumstances accumulated to produce successive pieces of the whole creativeness? This would mean judging the design of the whole necklace from only one or two of its gems.
Decidedly, in all realms of creativeness — literature, music, painting — an attentive and solicitous attitude is needed everywhere. Everyone has had occasion to read and hear about someone's attributing to an author a great deal of something absolutely foreign to him, quoting only fragments from an originally unbroken flow of thoughts. It is not only unqualified laymen who attempt to judge. In every field of endeavor self-appointed judges are to be found.
I remember some fellow law students pondering how they would apply the acquired knowledge. One intended simply to practice law, one wanted to become an administrator, one was planning to become a prosecuting attorney; but one, a rather jolly student, said, "And I, probably, will have to judge all of you." Who knows? Maybe this jest helped to launch him into a judge's career, toward which, in the final analysis, he had no special inclination.
As in many professions, so, also, in judgments about a creative process, a great deal is molded quite casually. But because of this haphazardness almost irreparable results may issue.
It is said that values in general change thrice in a century — according to generations, as it were. To observe this sinuous line of valuations is quite instructive. How many extraneous considerations will influence public opinion! Rivalry of publishers, or greed of art dealers, finally, all varieties of envy and animosity are reflected upon the evaluations with such complexity that for a future research historian it would be almost impossible to discriminate between them. Many examples of this could be cited.
We recall two rival publishers who deliberately slandered an author in whom they were both interested so that they could acquire at a lower price the right of publication of his works. And these specific disparagements were recorded in some reviews. We remember an art dealer who by all possible means tried to reduce temporarily the value of the works of a certain artist, in order to buy up a sufficient quantity of his works and afterward to commission somebody to restore the reputation of the forgotten artist.
There is no need to recall certain episodes from the world of collectors, where rivalry. drives people to most unworthy actions. It is important to remember, however, that the appraisals of creativeness are particularly convoluted and personal. We remember how a certain music lover one day warned a well-known musician not to play on that day because an influential music critic had a toothache.
But when to all these ways of life one adds the desire not to study thoroughly an oeuvre in its entirety, then the situation becomes verily tragic.
Let us think of any prolific writer. Could one form an opinion of him without knowing all his works successively? True, one may judge separate works of an author, but such an opinion should refer to one work and not to the entire creative oeuvre.
It is most important to evaluate a great personality not only from his biography but by surveying the accumulative processes of his creativeness and all the ways in which it was expressed. Hence, one is reminded once again of this word oeuvre, so apt in its true meaning. It impels one to think quite broadly, to encompass an entire manifestation and study broadly its influence and consequences.
Leaving the consideration of personal oeuvre, history also evaluates the oeuvre of an entire nation, an entire epoch. If a historian does not learn to appraise the small accessible facts, by what means could he approach and embrace broad tasks? Prior to thinking about these broad tasks, one should think about the conscientiousness of private and personal judgments. He who chooses to remain always within the boundaries of truth, will learn to discern the quality of all that is incidental, and will cautiously compare causes and effects. It is one thing to simply rejoice at a certain work, but it is quite a different matter to rejoice at a beautifully strung complete necklace in which are to be found many precious stones in unusual combinations. Just now, when there are so many ruptures and confusions, the clear-cut, honest, and heartfelt grasping of each subject is especially urgent and timely. We read that recently Stokowski gave a definite opinion about the harm of mechanized music for true creativeness. Stokowski justly pointed out that even in the very vibrations there is a vast difference between those transmitted directly and those transmitted mechanically. And certain instruments are altogether not perceptible in mechanized transmission.
At this time, when music, the stage arts, and painting are subject to all sorts of machinations, precisely now the evaluations of creativeness should become still more exact, deep, and thorough. Precisely now, when the contemporary way of life strives toward brevity, abruptness, and chance, it is especially essential to aspire to evaluations based upon the entire oeuvre.
Although translatable with difficulty, oeuvre is an expressive word.
Peking
February 25, 1935
THE MOST SIMPLE
People come for the most simple. At times one may think that there is a demand for something more complicated. One may think that much is already known and therefore, naturally, one should avoid repetition. But after reading a lot, people nevertheless come for the most simple. How to work? What thoughts are conducive to work? What time is best for work? What is fatigue? Should one fear diversity of work? How deeply should one immerse one's self in the study of the monuments of antiquity? Are the postulates of antiquity applicable for contemporary life? Is construction possible? Where to find fortitude against all kind's of worries? How to be free of fear? Should one harken to one's inner voice? How to remember what it says?
An endless amount of questions — many times explained, many times touched upon; but everyone wishes to have an answer to the question put in his own way. Indeed, it is presupposed that the answer must be precisely the one that is expected. This is again very old, and, it seems, known to all; but people in their questionings will prove to you that this is absolutely not known to them or, better, they have quite forgotten about it.
When you see numerous volumes of commentaries and repetitions accumulated about scriptures which are most brief, clear, and simple, do you not wonder about how and for what all these explanations are piled up. The very simple stimulant and again, the most simple questions. These questions are seemingly about the very same things but in different connotations, and call for explanations, yet in peculiarly personal expressions. And so the wheel of life becomes more complex, starting from the very simple.
A man comes, asks that which has often been mentioned. He did not read that which was mentioned or had it in mind to do so. He wishes to hear an answer expected by him. If the most thorough answer does not conform with his already inwardly presupposed reply, then all that will be said will be regarded as not convincing. This happens rather often in life, and yet it relates to a certain type of people who put questions. And behind these there is a formidable mass of those who are altogether too lazy to formulate questions even for themselves alone. Sometimes they attempt to excuse this laziness by seeming modesty; but when the heart is aflame, man does not become subject to inert modesty. He seeks, knocks, even bursts in, all for the sake of being admitted.
It is remarkable to recall those flaming hearts who at times in spite of unusual difficulties conquered them and found the key to the most cunning locks. I remember one experienced worker who spoke thus to his young co-workers, "If you wish, convince me." Listening to the proofs offered, he shook his head and smiled sadly, "Still not convincing. As yet you did not stir me. Invent something more significant." Later he listened to some more and again shook his head. "You see, you did not even make me jump from my chair. You did not even prompt any exclamation of delight on my part. This means you should find such a convincing word that it will overcome all other considerations and become unalterable." And then, in a whisper he added, "Probably this will be the most simple word."
In all life's reconstructions, especially at present, people's souls long precisely for a simple and hearty word. If people come with questions about the most simple, the answer must also be simple; simple not only in meaning, but also in the expressions used. The very same sunlight, the very same basic striving toward Good, the very same smile of encouragement must express itself in a simple answer to a simple question.
In a voluminous book such an answer may be given more than once and in various forms. But books are often read somewhat abstractedly. In the very printed word there remains somewhere the ghost of an abstraction. At times people themselves seek to find a sort of self-vindication, blaming a somewhat unclear form of exposition. There are known cases when people renounced their own words, which did not fit the particular occasion. All this is not simplicity by far, for now, as never before, a simple answer is needed that grows out of love and the best quality. Precisely in his heart man fully understands what simplicity is.
Precisely, the heart will knock once again because of various unneeded adjuncts.
Simply! Simply, with a good word! With a good action!
Peking
March 3, 1935
LIGHT REALIZED
Light does not become extinguished. Radiations and lights, earthly and supermundane, always remind people of their existence. People went to see physicians and begged them to stop their unbidden visions. Many efforts were needed, so that even crude apparatus could vindicate the gift of human sight.
When people insisted that they saw light, they were scoffed at. They were called schemers. However, the nearsighted person does not trust the far-sighted one. Radiations of the human body were denied, and were attributed to the realm of mysticism, or ascribed, to faulty eyesight. To the ancient knowledge, to the one cognized in times of yore, new paths were opened. Above all fanatical forbid-dances thoughtful observers perceived convincing testimonies.
"In a German medical journal "Fortschritte der Medizin" appeared a detailed article by Prof. Paul Dobner, about the radiations of the human body. Prof. Dobner found a reagent which made it possible to establish, although indirectly, the evidence of human radiation. This is a common aluminum plate. Aluminum possesses radioactive properties, and a plate from this metal, when brought in contact with a photographic film darkens it, as if it were emitting light. Prof. Dobner established that human radiations have the ability to increase for a short period of time the radioactivity of the aluminum: if one puts the aluminum plate first over a hand, and then over a photographic film, it will darken it with a considerably greater intensity than will a plate out of the same metal, which was not subjected to this previous operation.
"According to the degree of darkening, one can judge the intensity of the aura of that part of the human body with which the aluminum plate was in contact." Prof Dobner established that the flow of human radiations is strangest from the finger tips and directly before the eyes. This conforms to the theory of magnetic "fluids" which issue precisely from the fingers and the eyes of the hypnotist. Another important circumstance has been revealed by Prof. Dobner: "The character of the radiations of the human body depends upon the condition of the blood. In illnesses of the blood the intensity of the radiation of the body falls off, and in cancer patients the aura disappears completely.
"The aura of a healthy person spreads to a distance of forty meters around the body."
This is not a discovery but an affirmation. Yet proofs are needed. How many unknown listeners will be grateful for this affirmation on which they insisted long ago and which caused ridicule and derision to be directed at them.
The physician says also: "The ideas of Hippocrates which governed medicine for a span of almost two thousand years had great influence on it. Medicine, as a scientific discipline in a contemporary sense, was originated only in the second half of the last century in connection with the study of anatomy and with the appearance of the sciences of physiology and biology.
"Only when the causes of certain illnesses became known, was fighting them put on a scientific basis, and medicine walked out of the darkness in which it stayed through the entire period of its history, especially during the medieval epoch when the chief means of cure were prayers, and conjurations of those evil and impure spirits who were regarded as the instigators of various ailments."
In stressing the immutability of the basic idea of Hippocrates, expressed over two thousand years ago, mainly that the human organism strives to cure itself from various diseases, the professor pointed out that the role of medicine is that of assisting-the organism in this battle; however, this help must be rendered not to the one or other sick organ, but to the entire organism. In this respect psychological factors — faith of the patient in the physician's skill and his knowledge — carry great weight in medicine.
A physician observes correctly the deep significance of psychological factors in medicine. How many times one has heard remarks of wise doctors during the successful outcome of a cure, "You yourself helped me to cure you." In this one must consider attraction and repulsion, magnetic currents and rays, and, in the final analysis, all that enters into the concept of this very same light. People approach with various intentions the very same, the deeply fundamental, which penetrates and unites all that exists.
In the Paris Observatory experiments in the sonorization of the starry sky are taking place at present. As is known, every light ray can be transformed with the aid of the so-called photoelectric cell into sound, and back again. Moving pictures with sound are founded on that. The light of a heavenly body caught by a telescope and directed at the photoelectric setting gives a definite sound. The star, in the literal sense of the word, is singing. Out of all stars tested the most melodious sound is produced by Vega. Its light, out of which this sound is born, must travel twenty-seven years before it reaches Earth.
Naturally, light and sound are inseparable. Indeed, the sounds of heavenly bodies must direct thought toward the greatest realizations. The language of sound and the hieroglyphics of light are incalculable in space. When it is proposed that we think about far-off worlds, not only astronomical problems are presupposed. What great expansions of consciousness will resound and radiate! Even by crude means it has been found that the organism stricken by illness does not emanate light. The same can be observed not only during illness, but during all other obscurations caused by malice, anger, irritation, or depression. All this was known from time immemorial. Many a time this has been uttered in beautiful expressions by the best thinkers.
Therefore, speaking properly, there cannot be a discovery of that which is long since known, but there can be a cognition not yet discerned by all. And for that knowledge deep gratitude should be expressed to the scientists. They introduce considerations of deep significance to the broad masses in the language of the times and within the scope of accepted evidence. If people would think again and again about light and sound, if they would hear luminous sounds they could advance upon the path of expansion of consciousness. Not the simple accumulation of information, but the broadening of world outlook and striving to the most high will bring the people out of the gulf of the routine way of life.
The odors of the kitchen will be replaced by high spatial aromas. Instead of a smoky bit of candle the radiations of light not of this world will glimmer more often. And silence will resound. All this — the high, the boundless, the incalculable — will restrain humanity from shameful denials, and will lead it toward the lofty creation of benevolence.
It is so needed!
Peking
March 5, 1935
CAREFULNESS
If success depends, more or less, upon our inner suppositions, how should one learn to watch oneself, so as not to poison space? Such care will teach true cautiousness. We have no right to impose upon someone else's energy — to willfully squander another's value. This is not permissible on the material as well as on the spiritual plane. And yet, out of seemingly good intentions the squandering of another's forces often occurs. Thus people think that they took something from someone, whereas the willful loan really took place in some other way. People think that they safeguarded something, but in reality they increased it and created a burden.
Many a time one could observe that friends, because of ignorance, sent very poisonous arrows at the most tense moment. May be, on the eve of a most responsible action, precisely a friendly arrow let fly rashly caused a dangerous scratch. True, the sending of the arrow was to have been in another direction, but the sender did not take into account all the inner links and involuntarily grazed just that which had to be safeguarded. And the more the cooperation was already cemented, the more dangerous could uncalculated blows have been.
It would seem that sentiments of love and devotion should sufficiently warn careless bowmen. The feeling of trust, as a basis of cooperation should remind one of caution. The innate feeling of good will should have created a prudent magnanimity. But, apparently, all these combinations are not sufficient. Perhaps, besides heartfelt care one should develop within oneself that which is called carefulness.
In each rash action there also is certain to be hurt for others and for oneself. If a man has not fully learned to exercise care toward other people, let him be cautious at least in regard to himself. Each attempt to usurp someone else's value will be a robbery, and it will be as harmful as each usurpation of someone else's property.
Cautiousness or carefulness! These two concepts are definitely connected, although at first glance they define different actions. Learning to understand cooperation helps to realize the touching significance of carefulness and cautiousness. When cooperation is comprehended, respect toward the actions of one's co-worker will be developed first of all.
If someone does something, it means he has sufficient grounds for precisely this means of expression. A co-worker, before suspecting the action as being imperfect, will first look upon it with full confidence and magnanimity. And when, after the well intended investigation of the action, the co-worker will think that something could have been done differently, he will in the best possible way try to explain why his considerations are more efficacious.
Are expressions and exclamations of animosity or wrath possible among co-workers? How can they be co-workers after this? If in one instance there can be malicious thunder and shrill cries, it means this could happen also in other instances. Who knows? Perhaps amidst the most responsible actions the very same tongues of crimson flame may flash out. It means the wine is not yet ready. It means the cooperation was not yet achieved. If a great deal has not yet been crystallized and steadied, is a responsible action possible? A test always comes on a small thing.
There is an ancient fairy tale about a king who announced that he would set forth some serious tests. All were preparing and expecting them. And then they showed surprise as to why they were postponed. Or perhaps they were cancelled, altogether? But quite unexpectedly all the co-workers were summoned and a new system of labor was announced. It appeared that the tests had already taken place. People had been tested upon the daily occurrences least noticeable to them. It was noted down when and who became irritated, when inaccuracy and wasteful-ness took place. In short, all had been weighed at the time when people were still expecting that their tests would take place in some pompous gatherings.
For such an occasion people learned some well sounding formulas, studied by heart some sayings, committed to memory formulas and calculations. And at the same time, in their daily life, not even noticing it, they themselves revealed their inner nature and qualities to a sufficient degree.
Not in vain is unexpectedness spoken about in narratives and lofty teachings. Preparedness for such "expected" surprises can be achieved only through constant vigilance and carefulness. Safeguarding a friend and co-worker, people safeguard themselves. When will it be understood that each groundless judgment is already a sign of unpreparedness for responsible actions? And yet one action, twisted or infringed upon, drags behind it a multitude of distortions. To straighten out these distortions is far more difficult than not to admit them altogether.
Friends! Let us be very cautious. Let us be very careful.
Peking
March 8, 1935
WILD ANIMALS
In China it was regarded as special good fortune to be eaten by a tiger. It is told about quite a remarkable way of hunting a lion in Africa. One trails the king of the desert, and approaches him without a gun, but with a large pack of small, furiously barking dogs. The lion, hiding in bushes, endures the barking for a long time, but finally amidst the branches his threatening paw appears. The experienced hunters say, "Now he will leap." Indeed, the dangerous beast leaps high and lands in nearby bushes. Then to the first dog pack is added a new, fresh pack. The barking increases. The experienced hunters say, "Now, it will not be very long, he cannot stand it." Then comes a strange moment when the dogs. completely infuriated, rush into the bushes. The hunters say, "Let us go in, he is finished." The king of the desert cannot stand the barking at him, and he expires from a rupture of the heart.
I had occasion to observe a monkey court in India. On a high cliff seated in a circle is a whole "Areopagus" of very old grey-bearded judges. In the center of the circle is placed the accused. He is very alarmed, apparently tries to prove something with his gestures and screams, but the "Areopagus" is inexorable. Some sort of decision is arrived at, and the accused, with his tail between his legs, emitting a pitiful squeak creeps to the top of the rock and throws himself into the rushing torrent below. So it happens in the foothills of the Himalayas.
Verily, if one but listens to the stories about the big monkeys who live near the snow mountains, complete books may be compiled. We had an opportunity to see these mountain dwellers, sitting in an orderly family circle, on a platform near a cave. The onlookers commented, "Perhaps they even have flint implements!" They are very much like men.
Also there is a feeling in animals akin to man. During a time of cold winter on the Tibetan hillsides the grazing lands disappeared under the snow. The camels were sent three or four days ahead on a path where there was supposed to be grass. This hope also proved to be futile for there was a deep snowfall and no fodder could be found. In two weeks all the camels perished. I recall a bright winter morning in our camp. Upon a distant, glistening, snowy hillside some sort of animal is moving. A camel! Without a man. Slowly and majestically a lone camel, weakened by fasting, approaches our tents. His gait is sure, and using his last strength, he hastens to where he was fed before. He recognized the camp as his home and was not mistaken. Of course, he was fed the very last remaining grains. The packsaddles were ripped open in order to get a wad of straw. And in spite of everything he remained alive, this one faithful camel. He lived and later crossed with us through all the passes, upon narrow edges, up to Sikkim. We gave him as a gift to the Maharajah of Sikkim, and he may be even still alive on his land. This was the first two-hump camel which came to India from Tibet. All the people from the neighborhood rushed to see him, and he calmly shook his head; his wise eyes, the color of dark agate, were deep and brilliant.
Most likely, the eyes of a roe deer, clouded with tears, are full of expression when the hunter hastens to finish her, already wounded by shot. Sensitive hearts, once looking into such eyes and seeing those tears, will never again raise a knife over an animal.
If people would but decide to kill animals only when extreme necessity arises, a necessity for food! All sorts of appetites for killing must be abandoned sometime. Medical statistics about the spread of cancer indicate that this scourge of humanity is especially prevalent where meat eating abounds. An experienced physician will always warn that sooner or later eating meat will have to be abandoned if gallstones or any such unpleasantness is to be avoided. And from the point of view of nutrition one reads almost constantly in the scientific journals convincing articles about vitamins, which are superior by far to a meat diet One should hope that those times have passed when animalistic physicians prescribed raw meat and blood. What a horror! To prescribe even the drinking of blood.
But, if even the problem of the preservation of health, if scientific experiments and physicians' advices do not convince one, would there not at last be a final proof if one were to look into the eyes of the animals?
The dog is the friend of the house. The eyes alone of a faithful dog can tell a lot; besides, they see more than the eyes of ordinary people. How often it can be noticed that a dog senses something invisible, sees, bristles, and warns by its growling. One recalls many stories about such sensations of the animals. It seems to us that dogs sense more than other animals, but maybe it only seems so, for we observe dogs more than other animals. The dog has entered more closely into our daily life, and people are more used to dogs' means of expression.
One sheep dog asked for coins, collected them in her mouth, and later, entering the bakery, spit them out, thus asking for a sweet roll. We knew a dog in Paris who went for a paper. Outside of any daily acts, so much is known about the self-sacrificing actions of dogs when they were ready to freeze to death in giving their warmth to their owners.
Many animal eyes can be recalled. Again and again, humans could learn a great deal from animals.
Today a new dog, "Nohor," appeared here. It means "friend" in Mongolian.
Peking
March 8, 1935