The Book of Tea by Kakuzo Okakura

My friends know how much I like a good cup of tea - Irish Breakfast by choice, Lapsang Souchong if I am feeling adventurous.  Despite my liking for the beverage, I have never set much store by any ceremony that may accompany it: a cup, a teabag, some boiling water and a splash of milk - that's me.  Oh, and some peace and quiet.  Works for me.

But there more to tea than brewing and drinking, and that is what Okakura tells us about in his little book, first published in 1906.  In this slender volume, we are told about the history of tea, from its beginnings as a medicine, through its development as a beverage, to its culmination as the central element of a rigorous zen ceremony.

In setting out this history, Okakura delights the reader with digressions into historical anecdotes about tea, art, architecture, monastic life and zen philosophy, among other things.  The author is well aware of the beauty of the natural world, and he makes it shine out of every page.  Through terse but evocative prose, Okakura opens the Western mind to the psychology of the East (if we can use such broad terms), and the reader comes to a realisation of the philosophy underlying the aesthetic of the tea ceremony:

It was the process, not the deed, which was interesting.  It was the completing, not the completion, which was really vital.  Man came thus at once face to face with nature.  A new meaning grew into the art of life. The tea began to be not a poetical pastime, but one of the methods of self-realisation.

There is so much more to this book that I can possibly convey in the limited space available to me.  It is certainly worth reading, perhaps it is better to be lived.  But how?  Oh well, I'll have to think about that one over a cuppa.

Walden by Henry David Thoreau

"Let every one mind his own business ... If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer.  Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away."

In the summer of 1849, Henry David Thoreau decided to conduct an experiment: to see if a person could find contentment in a life lived simply, frugally and independently, disentangled from the requirements and expectations of friends, neighbours and the state.  To do this, he built a small cabin on some land by the shores of Walden Pond, a lake in Massachusetts.  Here he lived for some two years, growing his own food and selling his surplus to obtain other necessities of life.

Walden is an account of his experiences and observations in those years, telescoped into a narrative that spans the course of a year from spring, through summer and autumn, to winter.  Although he does not say so, he was influenced by the ideas of the Transcendentalist philosophers of New England, especially those contained in Ralph Waldo Emerson's essay "Self-Reliance"; and yet, Thoreau is explicit in his insistence that the individual must in accordance with his/her own nature, which he does fully during his time at Walden.

Thoreau explores many aspects of life: independence, literature, the natural world, human relationships, solitude and loneliness, food and farming, gossip, materialism and spirituality.

In the run-up to Christmas, we would do well to remember Dickens' Ebenezer Scrooge, a man who forgot his own humanity while he quested for material riches.  Thoreau's example in Walden is the antithesis of Scrooge's.  Renunciation of crass materialist acquisition is the first step on the path to personal wisdom and fulfillment.  He says:

Not till we are lost, in other words, not till we have lost the world, do we begin to find ourselves, and realise where we are and the infinite extent of our relations.

Walden is Thoreau's challenge to us all:

I do not propose to write an ode to dejection, but to brag as lustily as chanticleer in the morning, standing on his roost, if only to wake my neighbors [sic] up.

But what are we to think of this challenge?  Is it a beacon of sanity in an insane world, or an impractical pipe-dream blowing smoke in the face of the pragmatic demands of life?  "Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof," Jesus tells us.  And the Eastern philosophers say that everything we need is inside us.  On the other hand, we may like to consider the words of Joseph Conrad:

To fling away your daily bread so as to get your hands free for a grapple with a ghost may be an act of prosaic heroism ... and men who had eaten and meant to eat every day had applauded the creditable folly.

Irrespective of the conclusions we may draw about Walden on this point, it is undeniable that Thoreau makes his case calmly, thoughtfully and forcefully.  His prose ranges from the matter-of-fact to the lyrical and evocative.  Thoreau leaves the reader in no doubt about the love he feels for the natural world.  The more socially-orientated of us may find it hard to sympathise with his introverted disposition.  Nevertheless, Thoreau always speaks to the better side of one's self, and it is hard not to like someone who does so.

Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse

I discovered Hermann Hesse when I was in my early twenties.  It is a wonderful time of life, one where we  have the opportunity to find our feet as adults, to experience and test new ideas and new sensations, and it is an age Hermann Hesse seems to speak to perfectly.  I have fond memories of The Glass Bead Game and Narziss and Goldmund; however, Siddhartha is one of Hesse's works that escaped my attention at that time.

Siddhartha tells the tale of the eponymous character who lives in India at the same time Gautama Buddha was seeking enlightenment.  Siddhartha knows he must leave his father's house in order to find himself and the meaning of life.  Accompanied by his friend and fellow seeker Govinda, he first takes the path of an ascetic Samana and through physical rigour learns to discipline his mind and body.  On their journey they encounter the newly-enlightened Buddha and hear his sermons.  Govinda decides to follow the Buddha, but Siddhartha says the Buddha's philosophy is not for him and that he must find his own path.  The two friends part company.  Not long afterwards, Siddhartha has his own awakening: instead of detaching himself from life he decides that it must be embraced and lived to the full.  The second half of the book describes the consequences of Siddhartha's decision.

Siddhartha is a profound little book (about 150 pages).  Hesse has managed to set the problem of a young man leaving home to find wisdom and independence in a remarkably succinct fashion.  The narration is told from an omniscient third-person point of view, but we are given insight into the characters through their thoughts, words and actions.  The plot is built up by a series of interlinked vignettes in which the action rises and falls repeatedly, and in which new insights into the human condition (and the associated philosophical and moral problems) are introduced.

As this book deals not only with adolescence but with middle- and old age, it can be instructive to all who are seeking clarity about what is what, not just to youngsters finding their way in the world.

For me, reading Hesse on this occasion was like meeting an old friend who has never changed and is all the more lovable for it.  Highly recommended.

Flatland by Edwin A. Abbott

Flatland is a book about our perceptions of the world and the beliefs that arise from them.  Or is that the other way about?  It is also a satire about Victorian society and, possibly, an allegorical discussion about the merits of social improvement through evolution, plastic surgery or even eugenics.

The narrator of Flatland is a square that lives in a two-dimensional world.  The citizens of Flatland know two dimensions of movement only: northwards/southwards and side to side.  In their world rain falls from north to south, so they build their houses with the roof facing north.  

In the first part of the book, the narrator tells us about the social structure and social history of Flatland.  The inhabitants come in many shapes and sizes.  Most are regular polygons, such as triangles, squares and pentagons.  The more sides, the higher the social rank.  Climbing the social ladder is achieved on a generational basis: triangles father squares, squares father pentagons, and so on.  Circles occupy the highest social niche.  A minority of inhabitants are irregularly shaped, and they tend to have an abnormal psychology.  It is therefore necessary to constrain them either through incarceration or military service.  

War has played a prominent part in Flatland history.  Indeed, the most destructive war in their history came about when women became warriors.  Because women are considered irrational, and because they are by far the most lethal warriors, their social behaviour is severely curtailed in order to preserve an orderly society.

In the second part, the narrator relates a vision he had when he travelled to Lineland, where the inhabitants are one-dimensional and can only travel north/south.  He tries to explain to the monarch the concept of a second dimension and, consequently, side-to-side movement.  The king will have none of this kind of mad talk as it strikes against both his perceptions and his reason.  But the narrator persists and only succeeds in infuriating the Linelanders to the point of war.

Later, the narrator receives a visitor who claims to be from a three-dimensional world.  The narrator in his turn becomes angered by his guest's insistence about the possibility of moving upwards and downwards.  In the end, the visitor lifts the narrator out of Flatland and grants him a vision of three-dimensional space.  They speculate about the possibility of four dimensions.  This vision has disastrous consequences for the narrator.

In a short eighty page tract, Abbott has given us a lively and imaginative challenge to our assumptions about the world.  The narrator's visions are very reminiscent of Plato's parable of the cave - there may be another world which we can experience if only we could screw our perceptions through 180 degrees, metaphorically speaking.  What is very interesting is that the inhabitants of the various dimensional worlds become angry when their notions of reality are challenged.  It is an all too common phenomenon in our own world, and one which it is the philosopher's duty to transcend wherever possible.

Flatland is very worthwhile reading and, being mercifully short, can be tackled in an afternoon.  I read the Penguin ebook edition which is very well produced and is still text-to-speech enabled.

Discourses and Selected Writings by Epictetus

Epictetus was a freed slave who lived in Nicopolis, on what is now the northern Adriatic coast of Greece.  There he ran a school of Stoic philosophy.  His dates are given as c.C.E. 55-135.  He taught during the reigns of the Roman emperors Trajan and Hadrian.

His teaching were written down by his pupil Arrian, who is more famous for writing a history of Alexander the Great.  They are available to us courtesy of almost 2000 years of care and scholarship and, finally, by the modern cultural miracle that is Penguin Books.

Philosophy in the Roman world at that time was divided into four main schools: Stoic, Cynic, Skeptic and Epicurean. The latter three held an atomistic view of universe, where events happened mechanically and there was no room for either the gods or freewill.  The Stoics, on the other hand, believed in a Creator (the universe) and an odd mixture of free-will and determinism.  They believe that we all contain within in us a portion of the divine, that we are citizens of the universe, and that our task in life is to bring our will into agreement with the natural order.

Epictetus starts his discourse by examining what we can and cannot control.  Once this is done, he says, we can stop fretting over the things we cannot control and start cultivating the things we can control.  On his analysis, the only thing over which we have control is our character.  Our social aspirations, our reputations and even our bodies are beyond our control.  Happiness, then, lies not in "climbing the ladder" because our promotion depends on the whims of other people; nor does it lie in our reputations as these depend on the good- or ill-will of others; and our bodies will break and decay whether we like it or not.

Where does happiness reside? First, in accepting that we are mortal, that we will age, get ill and eventually die.  This is our lot.  Secondly, coming to the realisation that we can never really own anything, that all things are temporarily loaned to us and will be taken away from us - either now by thieves, or later by death.  Finally, by taking control of our character through our directing will.

The Discourses, Fragments and Enchirion (Greek for "manual") contained in this volume are filled with arguments and advice about how to slough off bad habits of the mind and start honing what is really important: our individual character.  "I must die," he says. "But must I die bawling?"  His answer is no.

The selections in this book cover many aspects of life, but sometimes they get repetitive; however, Robert Dobbin's lively translation staves off the boredom.  I was very pleased to be able to listen to the voice of a freed slave coming through loud and clear across the centuries.  At a junction of our history where humans are about to eat the world through over-population and super-fuelled consumerism, reading Epictetus may take us a step closer to cooling down our individual and collective neuroses.

Publishing details: Discourses and Selected Writings by Epictetus (trans. Robert Dobbin, Penguin, London, 2008, pp.276)

The Inner Reaches of Outer Space by Joseph Campbell

Originally published in 1986, this is the last work of Joseph Campbell published in his lifetime.  It consists of three essays.

In the first essay, Campbell examines human history to date.  He finds that humans are very concerned with nourishing themselves, reproducing themselves and acquiring and accumulating power and territory.  As for compassion, he finds that this is something extended only to people in the in-group, whether it be village or nation.  Campbell points out that we live in the space age but our myths are still those of the bronze age, still myths of in-groups. A space age mythology, he feels, must be one that involves universal compassion.  Our planet is too small now for in-groups.

In the second essay, Campbell looks at what myths are and how they can be applied correctly.  Myths, he thinks, are something that gets denoted by language and images of the phenomenal world but which connote something that transcends the phenomenal world and cannot be described by language or represented by images.  He calls this thing eternity.

In the final essay, "The Way of Art", Campbell compares the aesthetic theories of Aristotle, James Joyce and ancient India.  Art, he says, is something which can generate mythologies, and it can lift us out of our limited understanding of the world and put us in touch with the great mystery of existence.

The Inner Reaches of Outer Space is not as easy to read as some of Campbell's other work, but it an impressive work of thought and scholarship.  I enjoyed it greatly.

Publishing details: The Inner Reaches of Outer Space - Metaphor as Myth and as Religion by Joseph Campbell (New World Press, Novato C.a., 2002. pp.146)

Myths of Light by Joseph Campbell

Pure genius.  Joseph Campbell is the Deep Thought of mythography and comparative religious studies.  He has the knack of comprehending the important and complex questions and answers of life, the universe and everything and transmitting his findings in a supremely entertaining and understandable form.

Campbell begins by relating the Hindu story "The Humbling of Indra", in which the top god of the pantheon has his colossal ego lanced by a small child.  We learn how ego is delusion, and how everything we need to be happy is really within us.

The rest of the book is an examination of the three main religions of the East - Jainism, Hinduism and Buddhism - as seen through their theology and their mythology.  He also explains the social and spiritual development of the individual by way of the several yogic philosophies: raja, hatha, jnana and bhakti (breathing, stretching, thinking, adoring).  If you have ever wondered what chakras are all about, this is the book for you. 

There is a challenge for western readers, especially those from Christian, Jewish and Muslim backgrounds: these myths are not about good vs evil, they are about being and non-being.  It is an idea about religion and spirituality that can seem very alien to some of us.

Sounds daunting? Don't forget that Campbell makes it easy for his readers.  Even so, this is a book to be read slowly for several reasons.  One is to savour the prose.  Another is to take time to consider the images and ideas Campbell describes.  A third is assimilate the message - bliss: if you don't get it here (and it is within you), you ain't gonna get anywhere - and it is a message well worth the effort.

Publishing details: Myths of Light - Eastern Metaphors of the Eternal (New World Library, Novato Ca., 2003. pp.166)

The Pleasures and Sorrows of Work by Alain de Botton

In his latest outing, de Botton proves that style and eloquence are not enough.  We also like clarity, conciseness, insight and affability.  All four of the latter are rather lacking in this book.

I really don't need someone to tell me that the world is a complex place, or that having a job is a good way to avoid starvation.  I don't like it when an advantaged person talks disdainfully about someone who does not show outwards signs of pleasure as they mop a floor.

I got to chapter seven, where de Botton took me on a charmless stroll through the countryside of Kent, and there I abandoned him.  Although I enjoyed The Consolations of Philosophy and The Art of Travel, my appreciation of de Botton's efforts have decreased with each subsequent book.  To paraphrase Anthony Burgess: "This is the end of the road for me, Alain, the end of the road!"