By the way, I looked it up and the story goes on from here, culminating in Shankara not only getting cured but Gupta getting the anal fistula himself and dying from it. I should have known from the suspenseful buildup. :-)
I mention this before someone comes running in to say, "But our side *won*. Therefore we who follow Shankara's tradition really *are* special." I had a little fun tripping on my alternative "take" on this story not because I have anything against Shankara -- he sounds as if he was a pretty cool frood, except for his thing about evangelizing and engaging in spiritual dick size contests -- but because of what seems to me to be an ongoing trend in spiritual circles to overpraise teachers *to the detriment of the students*. The more special these tales told by students make the teachers, the harder it is for them to aspire to be like the teachers, and to realize what their teachers have realized. IMO, of course. This particular tale starts, "This is an offering of tribute at the feet of Sri Shankaracharya, the incarnation of Shiva. So great was and so majestic was his life that it is not possible for ordinary mortals to speak about his divine Charita completely. This is just a selection of some episodes from his inspiring Life." What are the *chances* that someone who believed that Shankara was an avatar of Shiva and thus "special" to actually become realized himself? He's just an "ordinary mortal," after all, and the teacher wasn't. It just appears to me that a great deal of energy that could have been put into becoming realized oneself got channeled into writing stories about how special the teacher was. I guess it's just preference and predilection, but I really don't *get* this "put the teacher on a pedestal" thing. I see it in Buddhism, too, and no one in history was quite as clear as being just an ordinary guy who had realized his ordinary enlightenment as Buddha was. Go figure. What *is* this tendency to pedestalize the teacher and make them "special?" Someone please explain it to me. It seems to me that it's a little counterproductive to the process of realization. If the teacher you admire achieved his realization only because he was "special," an avatar, then what hope do you have, not *being* an avatar yourself? But if the teacher was just an ordinary Joe like yourself and realized his enlightenment, then you can, too. --- In [email protected], TurquoiseB <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote: > > --- In [email protected], "matrixmonitor" > <matrixmonitor@> wrote: > > > > --Thanks. The bio of Shankara says that a Tantrik Buddhist cast a > > spell on Shankara and shortly thereafter Shankara developed an anal > > fistula and died. Is this type of event indicative of what's going > > on in Fairfield? I live in California. > > It does strike me as indicative of the things > that have obviously been going on for centuries > in Hindu (and probably all) spiritual traditions -- > people making up stuff to glorify teachers who > didn't need their glorification and who probably > went to their graves looking at their disciples > and thinking, "WHAT could I have done wrong > that these people still THINK like this?" > > In that noble tradition, consider the following > annotations of and commentaries on the holy > biography: > > > "Within a few days, the Tantrikas of Kamarupa influenced by the > > Buddhists and led by a Kashmiri Tantrik Abhinava Gupta, challenged > > the Acharya to debate. > > Saying, "My dick...uh...tradition is longer... > uh...better than yours." > > > Abhinava Gupta tried his best to hold his own > > but facing the uncommon genius of the Acharya, who was the very > > embodiment of Sridevi > > And thus not *like* us. He was "special," an > avatar. That's the reason he could get all > enlightened and all, not like us. If *we* > were special, we could achieve this stuff, > too, but since we're not, I guess we can't, > and have to content ourselves with heaping > piles of meaningless glory words on his > memory. > > > ...was something quite beyond his caliber. > > Who, after all, is quite as "special" as *our* > teacher? > > > He had to admit his defeat. > > Our side won. Their side lost. Therefore, even > though we're not as special as our teacher, > we're a little bit special because we're on his > side and got to hang with him. > > > As a result, people became attached to Vedic > > dharma and following the rituals laid down by Rishis like > > Yagnavalkya, engaged in the worship of the Divine mother by > > modes of Samayachara. > > The peons, even less special than we are, fin- > ally admitted that we -- even though we're not > as special as our teacher -- are more special > than they are. They came to us begging us to > help them become as near-special as we are. > > > Abhinava Gupta was not only a powerful Tantrika, but also a very > > renowned scholar. Refuting Vedanta, he had written a Shakta > > commentary on the Brahma sutra. Defeated in argument, Abhinava > > Gupta considered himself deeply offended and humiliated. > > And we know this because we saw the debate. We > couldn't follow most of it, of course, and we > didn't really pay any attention to what the > other guy said because he's not as special as > our guy, but we're pretty sure that our guy > kicked his ass in the debate and that the other > guy was deeply offended and humiliated. At least > we *hope* he was humiliated -- that's what spir- > ituality is all about, after all, making the > other guy who doesn't know the Truth like *we* > do feel humiliated. > > > He realized that > > there was no scholar in the whole world who could defeat the > > scholarship of the Acharya. > > Our guy rules! Again, that means we're cool because > we get to hang with him. > > > As long as the Acharya was alive, the > > destruction of Vamachara and of gory Tantrik rituals was > > inevitable. > > Not only humiliated but angry at having *been* > humiliated by our guy, the other guy plots > revenge. He's fearful that the world will see > his less-specialness and stop coming to his > cookouts. > > > He engaged himself in secret magical rites to bring about the > > Acharya's death. > > And we know this because our guy got sick. And > because our guy is *so* special that he couldn't > have possibly gotten sick unless someone had > cast a spell on him. > > > Within a few days, signs of an incurable ailment - anal fistula - > > manifested itself in the Acharya's body. The illness became > > gradually more serious and the pain was insufferable. > > We know this because we suffered so much watching > it, even though our guy remained calm and unruffled. > > > There was suppuration and > > bleeding. The Acharya was however calm and unruffled. He continued > > giving instructions to various spiritual aspirants without giving > > a single thought to his body or pain. > > We assume that there was some kind of lesson in > this, but so far none of us have been able to figure > out what it was, so instead we're going to write a > bunch of "Oooooo, you are so great" praise about > our guy rather than ponder it. > > > The disease worsened. The Acharya > > became extremely weak. Even in that state, the Acharya remained > > calm and continued to guide his devotees. > > Again, the important thing here is that our guy was > *special* and that thus we're special for having > gotten to hang with him, not that there might be a > lesson here for us in his behavior. > > > The supreme Acharya even refused to cure himself, which was > > just a matter of silly game for him. > > And we know this because he was so special. True, > he didn't appear to be that concerned about his > illness, but we *know* that he could have cured > himself, because we just *know* those sorts of > things. > > > The disciples were greatly concerned for their beloved master > > and attended on him to the best of their abilities. > > Aren't we cool? > > > Padmapada became anxious for proper medical treatment of > > the ailment. Asking for permission to send for a doctor, > > they requested the Acharya. > > With a smile, the Acharya said, " My sons, why are you so > > agitated? A disease is cured only cured through suffering > > and even if it is inevitable that I should die of it, I have > > not the slightest regrets. Do not make futile efforts at > > treatment". > > Again, there must have been some lesson in this, but > we're not sure what it was, so we're gonna skip this > section in our commentary and go on with praising our > guy for how special he was. The lesson, whatever it > was, couldn't have been more important than that. > > > Hearing word of such indifference from their Guru, the disciples > > held back their tears with great difficulty and said, "Lord of > > the Yogis, Indeed you have not the slightest attachment to > > your body, but master, you are our life even as water is life > > to the creatures that live in it. > > And besides, how could we act special for all those > people who are coming to us, properly humiliated, > asking us to show them the *proper* way to worship > the Divine Mother, if we don't have you to point to > as an example of our specialness? If you die, we'll > ...uh...have to do something else, like make up > some amazing stories about you, and tell them over > and over to impress the peons with how lucky we were > to have been able to hang with you, while they > weren't. > > > Saints live for the good of the world even though they > > themselves have attained their objects of self-realization > > and are without any desire. > > And we know this because...uh...well, we just > know it. > > > You should save yourself for the good of the others. We > > know that you will not use your limitless powers to cure > > yourself. > > Even though you obviously could. > > > But at least allow us to do what is best possible by us". > > At this importunate request, the Acharya's heart was overcome > > with pity. > > What he actually said was, "Will these assholes > give me no peace even on my deathbed? Maybe if > I pretend to go along with them they'll stop > begging me to be 'special' for them." But we > like our way of expressing it better. > > > He gave permission for doctors to be brought. The royal > > physician of that country began treating the Acharya using > > powerful drugs. But the illness showed not the slightest > > signs of abatement and on the contrary worsened day by day. > > All physicians who tried to cure the Acharya gave up hope. > > The disciples were plunged in sorrow. > > What choice did we have, after all? I mean, our > guy kept telling us that death was "no biggie," > and that we should stop moping around, and show- > ing us how by his own example, but were we supposed > to believe something as silly as THAT? I think not. > So we went for sorrow, which seemed more approp- > riate to us. > > > Meanwhile the overjoyed Abhinava Gupta waited for the moment > > when the Acharya would breathe his last. > > He still hadn't gotten over his humiliation, you see. > > > The Acharya meanwhile bore in silence the terrible pain of > > his illness and prepared for death. > > And we continued on in sorrow, having learned nothing > from him and his example except how special we are. > > ***************************************************** > > The above "supplementary commentary" on the scripture > was brought to you by the local chapter of the Spiritual > Life Wasn't That Much Different Back Then Than It Is > Today Society. > > We took a break from our larger task -- writing a > similarly-accurate and unbiased biography of our > current teacher and *his* specialness -- because we > wanted you to know how special our tradition has been > for centuries now. Special then, special now. And if > you're silly enough to debate us about it, prepare to > be humiliated. > > ***************************************************** > > :-) > > Presented as an alternative way of looking at > an old spiritual story as a reflection of > similar stories we hear every day from seekers > today. I guess my point is that, no matter how > neat the teachers that the "Wasn't he special" > stories were about *were* (and this guy sounds > pretty damned neat to me...he died better than > his followers lived), there is often more > "Aren't we special" in the stories told about > them by their followers than there is "Wasn't > he special." >
