The sharp edge of a razor is difficult to pass over: thus the wise say the path to Salvation is hard. — KATHA UPANISHAD
Somerset Maugham’s The Razor’s Edge was turned into a movie I saw decades ago, starring Gene Tierney, Ann Baxter, Tyrone Power and Herbert Marshall. It was not a memorable nor near great movie but it did have things in it that I remember. It’s the story of Larry Darrell, a man in search, experiencing a spiritual quest, much as Capra’sThe Lost Horizon reeked of a spiritual Shangra-La. I have not seen the Bill Murray version of The Razor’s Edge probably because I like the performances in the old version. I bring all this into the open because a spiritual adventure or a spiritual quest I find intriguing, pleasing to my sensibilities. I would find it more than admirable if each one of us went on such a journey, and I do not mean that cliche variant spoken of by Oprah.The closest I ever came to that was several years of reading Krishnamurti, learning from this great spiritual teacher on my own, and wrestling with him so that ultimately I began to see in a different way.
In a serendipitous way I acquired Maugham’s book and read it quickly, for it is well written. It came down to a few last pages and the question posed throughout the book is finally “answered.” What is “success?” Americans are skewered and praised by Maugham as to their value systems, one subtle comment is that Americans do not value money in itself but as a symbol of what you can do with it, a different slant on materialism. Maugham plays himself in the book, as observer, as writer, as shrewd reader of personalities. Of all the characters in the book Darrell is the most “successful” in that he has chosen what it is he wants and does not want to do in life and with his life. In short, he is a free man. If I were a young adult I would be stirred by the ending and this character. One might have the same response after reading Walden Pond. The conditioned narcolepsy we live in, in all our cultures, prevents, deters, or persuades us not to question nor to see. Fortunate is the human being who breaks his head through the ice above and sees the newer terrain all about. More fortunate is the individual who crawls across the ice to the other side and the newer experiences. Think of The Matrix, what is seen and unseen, what is reality and is not reality.
I believe that the human being who asks the right questions without seeking answers, who senses somewhere in his molecular makeup that there is more than the heralded and advertised slogans of this culture, will become master of his fate. As a measure consider this: Palin may be “religious,” whatever that folly is, but she is blind to any other sense of the spirtual self. And how do I know this? Ah, there’s the rub. If you believe that Mother Teresa is a saint and a spiritual self you haven’t read much about her (see Christopher Hitchens’ book). In this culture we are sold a bill of goods about what is spiritual and what is not, in addition to other cultural nonsenses — the American dream, the pursuit of happiness (Yes, we do chase that; clearly the opposite of what the spiritual self does.) I believe we abhor the search, the quest, because it offers no reward that we esteem of worth.
Here I want to speak about writing and what Maugham writes about Darrell who has been reading over the years and decides to write a book and self-publish it, and this, in the novel’s chronology, is in the thirties and Maugham’s book came out in the forties.
“But you can’t expect a book brought out like that to have any sale abnd you won’t get any reviews,” Maugham advises Darrell.
“I don’t care if it’s reviewed and I don’t expect it to sell. I’m only printing enough copies to send to my friends in India and the few people I know in France who might be interested in it. It’s of no particular im-portance. I’m only writing it to get all that material out of the way, and I’m publishing it because I think you can only tell what a thing’s like when you see it in print.”
Of course, this resonates with me and the work I do. For a considerable group of people today would think this is outright nonsense and reading this in the forties must have been over the top, for it challenges what we do in life and what we think is valuable and not. The revolution in publishing will and is bringing us to the day when publishers may be a fraction of what they are today and agents may have to drive taxis. Within the context of the novel, however, it expresses Darrell’s perspective on life; that it is not to ber hawked and merchandised; that writing is expression and not business; that spiritual happiness is not obtained by reading Wayne Dyer’s Emersonian sallies. It is not for the frail of heart, the weak, the materially obsessed.
At the close of the novel Maugham reflects: “He [Darrell] iis without ambition and hehas no desire for fame; to become anything of a public figure would be deeply distasteful to him; and so it may be that he is satisfied to lead his chosen life and be no more than just himself. He is too modest to set himself up as an example to others; but it may be he thinks that a few uncertain souls, drawn to him like moths to a candle, will be brought in time to share his own glowing belief that ultimate satisfaction can only be found in the life of the spirit, and that by himself following with selflessness and renunciation the path of perfection he will serve as well as if he wrote books or addressed multitudes.”
One sure thing stands out. This country is diametrically opposed to this; it is a threat. The question is: are you opposed to this as an individual? After all, tempus fugit.
The Razor’s Edge
The sharp edge of a razor is difficult to pass over: thus the wise say the path to Salvation is hard. — KATHA UPANISHAD
Somerset Maugham’s The Razor’s Edge was turned into a movie I saw decades ago, starring Gene Tierney, Ann Baxter, Tyrone Power and Herbert Marshall. It was not a memorable nor near great movie but it did have things in it that I remember. It’s the story of Larry Darrell, a man in search, experiencing a spiritual quest, much as Capra’sThe Lost Horizon reeked of a spiritual Shangra-La. I have not seen the Bill Murray version of The Razor’s Edge probably because I like the performances in the old version. I bring all this into the open because a spiritual adventure or a spiritual quest I find intriguing, pleasing to my sensibilities. I would find it more than admirable if each one of us went on such a journey, and I do not mean that cliche variant spoken of by Oprah.The closest I ever came to that was several years of reading Krishnamurti, learning from this great spiritual teacher on my own, and wrestling with him so that ultimately I began to see in a different way.
In a serendipitous way I acquired Maugham’s book and read it quickly, for it is well written. It came down to a few last pages and the question posed throughout the book is finally “answered.” What is “success?” Americans are skewered and praised by Maugham as to their value systems, one subtle comment is that Americans do not value money in itself but as a symbol of what you can do with it, a different slant on materialism. Maugham plays himself in the book, as observer, as writer, as shrewd reader of personalities. Of all the characters in the book Darrell is the most “successful” in that he has chosen what it is he wants and does not want to do in life and with his life. In short, he is a free man. If I were a young adult I would be stirred by the ending and this character. One might have the same response after reading Walden Pond. The conditioned narcolepsy we live in, in all our cultures, prevents, deters, or persuades us not to question nor to see. Fortunate is the human being who breaks his head through the ice above and sees the newer terrain all about. More fortunate is the individual who crawls across the ice to the other side and the newer experiences. Think of The Matrix, what is seen and unseen, what is reality and is not reality.
I believe that the human being who asks the right questions without seeking answers, who senses somewhere in his molecular makeup that there is more than the heralded and advertised slogans of this culture, will become master of his fate. As a measure consider this: Palin may be “religious,” whatever that folly is, but she is blind to any other sense of the spirtual self. And how do I know this? Ah, there’s the rub. If you believe that Mother Teresa is a saint and a spiritual self you haven’t read much about her (see Christopher Hitchens’ book). In this culture we are sold a bill of goods about what is spiritual and what is not, in addition to other cultural nonsenses — the American dream, the pursuit of happiness (Yes, we do chase that; clearly the opposite of what the spiritual self does.) I believe we abhor the search, the quest, because it offers no reward that we esteem of worth.
Here I want to speak about writing and what Maugham writes about Darrell who has been reading over the years and decides to write a book and self-publish it, and this, in the novel’s chronology, is in the thirties and Maugham’s book came out in the forties.
“But you can’t expect a book brought out like that to have any sale abnd you won’t get any reviews,” Maugham advises Darrell.
“I don’t care if it’s reviewed and I don’t expect it to sell. I’m only printing enough copies to send to my friends in India and the few people I know in France who might be interested in it. It’s of no particular im-portance. I’m only writing it to get all that material out of the way, and I’m publishing it because I think you can only tell what a thing’s like when you see it in print.”
Of course, this resonates with me and the work I do. For a considerable group of people today would think this is outright nonsense and reading this in the forties must have been over the top, for it challenges what we do in life and what we think is valuable and not. The revolution in publishing will and is bringing us to the day when publishers may be a fraction of what they are today and agents may have to drive taxis. Within the context of the novel, however, it expresses Darrell’s perspective on life; that it is not to ber hawked and merchandised; that writing is expression and not business; that spiritual happiness is not obtained by reading Wayne Dyer’s Emersonian sallies. It is not for the frail of heart, the weak, the materially obsessed.
At the close of the novel Maugham reflects: “He [Darrell] iis without ambition and hehas no desire for fame; to become anything of a public figure would be deeply distasteful to him; and so it may be that he is satisfied to lead his chosen life and be no more than just himself. He is too modest to set himself up as an example to others; but it may be he thinks that a few uncertain souls, drawn to him like moths to a candle, will be brought in time to share his own glowing belief that ultimate satisfaction can only be found in the life of the spirit, and that by himself following with selflessness and renunciation the path of perfection he will serve as well as if he wrote books or addressed multitudes.”
One sure thing stands out. This country is diametrically opposed to this; it is a threat. The question is: are you opposed to this as an individual? After all, tempus fugit.