Part 2 9724
11 My (author) interpretation here differs from the view that any
absence of synonymity between “Ichseele” (e.g. thūmós/ménos) and “Psycheseele”
(e.g. psūkhḗ) in the mythopoeic thinking of any “primitive” culture
invariably implies an original distinctness between the two concepts. What
I propose is that the distinctness, as in the case of thūmós/ménos on one
side and psūkhḗ on the other, may be a secondary development—a matter of
secondary specialization. In other words, the convergence in meaning
between thūmós/ménos and psūkhḗ may be primary and the divergence,
secondary. Then we can account for such rare “exceptions” as Iliad VII 131
(where the thūmós goes to Hades) and XXI 569 (where the psūkhḗ abides in a
living hero) as residual traces of an earlier ideology where thūmós/ménos
and psūkhḗ were as yet undifferentiated in realms where they are later
differentiated.
12 My (author) interpretation is also at odds with the view that
the Homeric
psūkhḗ is not a “Psycheseele” but a mere “Totengeist.”(vide para7) {KR
Greek making a difference between survival and death so titled it as AFTER
DEATH} The reasoning behind this disputed view is based on the
conventional diction describing the swooning of a hero: the psūkhḗ is
regularly envisaged as leaving the body, but it is never mentioned as
returning when the hero revives. Only the thūmós or ménos are mentioned as
returning to the hero when he is revived. For some, this restriction in
diction means that “Homer” did not know of any function that could be
attributed to psūkhḗ in the living hero—that the word psūkhḗ simply did not
denote consciousness. (KR remember we have Greek first literature dealing
with the after death only from Homer’s Iliad which is far off from Rig
vedam where cremation only is spoken in fire; about which Homer discusses
in his poem}
13 And yet, as even those who prefer this explanation have to concede,
the concept of psūkhḗ is indeed derived from the concept of breathing (cf.
Homeric psúkhō ‘blow’, with “winds” as subject, at XX 40), the loss of
which is the primary manifestation of death in the conventional Homeric
descriptions. The words thūmós and ménos are also associated with breathing.
Accordingly, the descriptions of both swooning and dying as a loss of
thūmós/ménos/psūkhḗ are physiologically appropriate and proper, and yet the
regaining of the hero’s breath after swooning is restricted in Homeric
diction to thūmós/ménos, with psūkhḗ excluded. The reason for this
exclusion is surely not physical but ideological. To repeat, it has been
argued that psūkhḗ is excluded because it does not denote consciousness,
whereas thūmós/ménos regularly do. But this argument is predicated on the
assumption that psūkhḗ is distinct from thūmós/ménos at the moment when
they become separated from the body. This is to confuse words with
concepts, and I must insist here on returning to the facts of Homeric
diction. What leaves the body at the moment of dying or swooning is
functionally expressed as thūmós and/or ménos and/or psūkhḗ. At the moment
of dying or swooning, all three words are formulaically interchangeable
synonyms, expressing the same concept.
14 If, then, the word psūkhḗ is excluded in descriptions of revival
from swooning, it is because this synonym of thūmós/ménos at the moment of
dying and swooning has at other moments a meaning that goes beyond the
concept of breath or even the concept of consciousness. Some would argue
that this meaning is simply that of ‘ghost’: once the psūkhḗ is in Hades,
the reasoning goes, it cannot return to the body of someone who has swooned
because the psūkhḗ would already be a ghost—and its owner would already be
dead Yet, this reasoning again fails to account for the fact—as established
by observation of Homeric diction—that psūkhḗ is synonymous with
thūmós/ménos at the moment of dying or swooning. It cannot simply be
assumed that psūkhḗ should mean one thing when a hero swoons and another
thing when he is revived.
15 There may be a more sublime reason for the avoidance of the word
psūkhḗ in Homeric descriptions of a hero’s revival. As we have noted, the
synonymity of thūmós/ménos/psūkhḗ at the moment of death implies an
affinity of psūkhḗ with consciousness—an affinity that is then suspended in
Hades. If it is simply a matter of suspension, however, then the door is
left open for imagining an eventual restoration of synonymity, with all
three words thūmós/ménos/psūkhḗ once again capable of designating the
identity of the deceased. The setting for such a restoration is, I submit,
the eventual reintegration of the psūkhḗ and body, when the deceased comes
back to life. In that case, the avoidance of the word psūkhḗ in
descriptions of a hero’s revival from a swoon would be motivated by a need
to keep this theme distinct from the theme of a hero’s revival from death.
Elsewhere, I have attempted to document this theme, the hero’s revival from
death, on the basis of the internal evidence available in the diction in
Greek poetic traditions. In that effort, however, I did not confront what
the Iliad has to say, albeit indirectly, about the afterlife of Patroklos.
Which is the problem at hand—a problem that may be solved, I submit, by now
pursuing even further the semantics of thūmós/ménos/psūkhḗ.
16 Exceptionally, the restoration of synonymity for thūmós /ménos/
psūkhḗ can happen in Hades itself. The psūkhḗ of the seer Teiresias *(Odyssey
x 492*) is described as the only one in Hades to be endowed with *phrénes
(x 493*),{KR Vide para9) which as we have seen is the physical
localization of thūmós and ménos. Accordingly, the psūkhḗ of Teiresias is
the only one in Hades to recognize Odysseus without having to drink blood
(xi 91). To be contrasted are the other psūkhaí who are as a rule without
faculties” (aphradées 476) except whenever they get to drink a libation of
blood (xi 147-149). The reason for my drawing attention at this point to
the exceptional psūkhḗ of Teiresias has to do with yet another crucial
word, one that serves to explain why Teiresias has phrénes even in Hades:
Persephone had given him nóos (x 494). This word, which here epitomizes the
synonymity of thūmós/ménos/psūkhḗ, is as a rule used in Homeric diction to
designate the realm of rational functions only, whereas thūmós is used to
designate the realm of both rational and emotional functions. *As such,
nóos (vide para 17) represents a mere subcategory of thūmós in the living
Homeric hero*. Why, then, should this word be a key, in *Odyssey x 494,* to
the synonymity of thūmós/ménos/psūkhḗ and, by implication, to the
reintegration of consciousness and body?
17 The etymology of nóos provides an answer. As the researches of
Douglas Frame have established, the root of nóos is *nes-, which means not
just ‘return home’, as attested in Greek néomai (verb) and nóstos (noun),
but also ‘return to light and life’, as apparently attested in Indic
Nā́satyau, an epithet of the Indic Divine Twins, the Aśvin-s who bring
mortals back to life and who bring about sunrise after the night brought on
by each sunset. As Frame also shows, there is in fact a pervasive
interplay between the themes of nóos and nóstos in the Odyssey, so that the
fundamental meaning of the root *nes-, ‘return to light and life’, is
reenacted within the overall structure of this epic; in other words, the
Odyssey itself is built on the symbolism of rebirth from death, as
visualized in the dynamics of sunrise after sunset and as verbalized in the
nóos/nóstos of Odysseus himself. Within the space of the present
discussion, I cannot do full justice to the evidence and arguments that
Frame adduces. Rather, I am simply confining myself to the problem of
connecting the death of Patroklos with the semantics of
thūmós/ménos/psūkhḗ. Still, the etymology of nóos, which functions in
Homeric diction as a subcategory of thūmós and as a principle that reunites
thūmós/ménos/psūkhḗ in synonymity, can serve as an ideal point of
transition to the main part of this presentation—a survey of assorted
evidence available in Indic traditions that may throw light on the
afterlife of Patroklos. If this evidence will help strengthen Frame’s own
arguments, then I hope that he will accept my efforts here as a tribute to his
own.
18 Indic (KR Means India) traditions formalize the theme of
returning to light and life in more ways than one. Besides the *Nā́satyau*,
I cite a Vedic sun-god called Savitŕ̥-, appropriately meaning ‘the
vivifier’ (root sū- ‘vivify’). As we shall see, Savitr̥’s solar journey
enables the aspects of man that leave the body at death to be reintegrated
in the realm of the pitŕ̥-s ‘ancestors. Since the comparative evidence of
the Savitr̥ tradition is both ample and complex, it may be best to
anticipate here the conclusions that I plan to draw from this evidence at a
later point. What will emerge is that the *Indic words* designating the
aspects of man that leave the body at death, mánas– and ásu-, are actually
cognate with the Homeric noun + epithet combination ménos ēú (μένος ἠύ),
designating in general the energetic faculties of heroes (e.g. Iliad XX 80)
and, in particular, the aspect of Patroklos that has been lost as a result
of death (XXIV 6).
The correspondence between the *Indic n*oun mánas– and the Greek
noun ménos is overt. As for the Indic noun ásu– and the Greek adjective
{93|94} ēú (ἠύ), the correspondence on the levels of both form and meaning
is complicated, and further discussion is useless until we can review the
comparative evidence preserved in Iranian traditions.
19 Suffice it now to add another overt comparandum besides Indic
mánas- on one side and Greek ménos on the other: the Indic word pitŕ̥–
‘ancestor’ is directly cognate with the Greek element patro– of
Patro-kléēs, a name that literally means ‘he who has the glory [kléos] of
the ancestors [patéres]. In view of Erwin Rohde’s observation that the
Funeral of Patroklos in the Iliad bears the distinct features of hero cult
and that the cult of heroes is itself an institution that evolved from the
worship of ancestors, we may recover an Indo-European theme in comparing
the association of ménos ēú (= μένος ἠύ) and Patrokléēs in the context of
that hero’s death with the association of mánas/ásu- and the pitŕ̥-s
‘ancestors’ in the context of their coming back to life after death.
20 Having anticipated my ( author) conclusions from the comparative
Indic evidence about Savitr̥ and his role in bringing the dead back to
life, I will now present this evidence to the extent that I am able to
sketch it without oversimplifying its rich complexities.
21 As we begin to examine the traditions about this specialized sun-god
Savitr̥, we note that there are contexts of darkness as well as brightness.
Savitr̥ protects the righteous at night (Rig- Veda 4.53.1) and wards off
the demonic Rakṣas-es all night (1.35.10). The time of these Rakṣas-es is
the night (7.104.18); in the east they have no power, because they are
wiped out by the rising sun (Taittirīya-Saṃhitā 2.6.6.3). As the Rig-Veda
makes clear, the daily breakthrough to light in the east is caused by
Savitr̥ (10.139.1). How, then, can the sun-god Savitr̥ be present at night?
As we see from Rig-Veda 1.35, the Savitr̥ Hymn, the god reverses the course
of his chariot with each sunrise and sunset: he travels through the
brightness at day and then through the darkness at night. During the night
trip, he is the good aspect of darkness, just as he is the good aspect of
brightness during the day trip. The night trip of Savitr̥ is especially
precarious for mortals not only because of the darkness but also because
the daylight course of the sun is reversed. After the forward course of the
chariot at daytime comes the backward course at nighttime. {KR: The Rig
veda night here is day in the underworld or other half, and as Sun is
always there, how SUN GOD IS ALWAYS PRESENT; THOUGH DAY AND NIGHT ARE ONLY
TIME CONCEPT} This forward /backward movement of Savitr̥ is expressed in
terms of downstream/upstream, the words for which are pravát/udvát-:
yā́ti deváḥ pravátā yā́ty udvátā Rig-Veda 1.35.3 The Deva [god] goes
downstream, goes upstream.
22 It remains to ask where it is that Savitr̥ travels “upstream,”
from west to east, during the night. The Rig-Veda is ostentatiously
cryptic about the sun’s whereabouts at nighttime, offering only such
indications as in the following verses of the Savitr̥ Hymn:
kvèdā́anīm sū́ryaḥ káś ciket
katamā́m dyā́m raśmír asyā́ tatāna Rig-Veda I.35.7
Where is the sun now? Who knows? Which sky has its ray reached? {KR: These
statements are seen across the Rig vedam; Western thoughts project all of
them, including the Nasadiya suktam, as doubtful, ignorant ancient words,
undermining the Indics; how ever equally many western and ancient treatises
assure the knowledge of the ancient; and at the same time play their chords
low, bowing the brilliance of the Brahman and Veda}
A further indication about this unmentionable sky occurs in stanza 6 of the
same Savitr̥ Hymn, where Savitr̥ is described as having two skies. From
such indirect *mystical hints* we may surmise that the sky of this our
world is matched by another sky, of the underworld. Furthermore, there
is a *third
sky mentioned in the same stanza (Rig-Veda 1.35.6),* this one belonging to
Yama rather than Savitr̥; it is in this third sky that immortal things
abide (amŕ̥tā́dhi taṣḥur), and ihá bravītu yá u tác cíketat
Rig-Veda 1.35.6 whoever knows it should say it here. [KR The word second
third sky eyc are part of space of the divided 14 lokas ascribed}
23 The name Yama refers to the king of the pitŕ̥-s ‘ancestors’
(Rig-Veda 10.14 passim), particularly the Aṅgiras-es (10.14.3, 5), and his
path is death (1.38.5). He is the first person ever to experience death
(Atharva–Veda 18.3.13), and he is specifically addressed as “our pitŕ̥”
(Rig-Veda 10.135.1). Yet the abode of Yama and the pitŕ̥-s is in the midst
of the sky (10.15.14), in the highest sky (10.14.8), in the third sky which
has eternal light and where the sun was placed (9.113.7-9). The abode of
the pitŕ̥-s is the highest point of the sun (9.113.9), and they are in
communion with it (1.125.6, 10.107.2, 10.154.5). Thus, the third sky of
Yama could be visualized as above the first sky of Savitr̥, who goes
pravát– ‘downstream’
during the day; come sunset, Savitr̥ reaches the dreaded second sky of the
lower world, where he travels udvát– ‘upstream’ during the night.
24 How, then, did Yama the primordial mortal reach the third sky?
Come sunrise, he ascends along with the sun, traveling pravát– ‘downstream’:
pareyivāṃsam praváto mahī́r ánu bahúbhyaḥ pánthām anupaspaśānám
Rig-Veda 10.14.1 having gone along the great pravát– streams,
having discovered a path for many.
In the Atharva–Veda (6.28.3, 18.4.7), Yama is described as the first
ever to have gone along the pravát-. Before reaching the third sky with the
coming of sunrise, it may be that Yama, the first person ever to experience
death, is imagined as having to traverse the unmentionable second sky with
the corning of sunset. A model and guide for this kind of trip could be
Savitr̥ himself. {KR: As the sky is the word used in all Vedas , and the
later Rishis must have understood the significance of the word}
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