The Upanishads

We’re getting a new carpet, and having to remove things from the room so it can be installed forced us to decide which ones we’ll put back. Annette remarked, “When you get to be seventy, you’ve got to start reducing yourself to your essence, because it’s all you’ve got energy for and space for.”

I no longer have space for the Upanishads.  There was a time in the sixties when this seminal Indian philosophy was thought to have a message for the sensitive American soul. You could say things like,

The Self is in the ear of the ear,
The eye of the eye, the mind of the mind,
The word of words, and the life of life.

It would impress chicks.  The trouble was I really didn’t know any chicks who’d buy the idea that I was hip to Eastern mysticism.  Annette would have just laughed, so I didn’t even try, but I did put the book on the shelf, where people would see it, and think I was deep.  Now it’s stiff and yellowed.  If you want it, it will be available for 50¢ at the book table of the Antiquarian Fair next summer.  You don’t even have to get there early.  I don’t expect it to be a hot item. 

I always thought I might quote the Upanishads in something I wrote, and now I have.  But I’m not pretending I read the book.  I never have, at least not all the way through, and I don’t care who knows it. 

What Annette meant about reducing ourselves to our essence was to get rid of clutter, but I’m wondering if, when I’ve rid myself of vain and useless possessions and stop pretending to be deeper than I am, I’ll have achieved my true self and be living the life of life.  I’ll meditate on this and let you know.