Silence is such a beautiful thing, of which, by definition, it is quite unnecessary to talk about.
Subhuti was Buddha's disciple. He was able to understand the potency of emptiness, the viewpoint that nothing exists except in its relationship of subjectivity and objectivity.
One day Subhuti, in a mood of sublime emptiness, was sitting under a tree. Flowers began to fall about him.
"We are praising you for your discourse on emptiness," the gods whispered to him.
"But I have not spoken of emptiness," said Subhuti.
"You have not spoken of emptiness, we have not heard emptiness," responded the gods. "This is the true emptiness." And blossoms showered upon Subhuti as rain.
In this short piece, however, I shall do the ungracious thing and write a few words about it.
The first of these two images is the (supposed) death mask of an unknown girl, who is believed to have committed suicide by drowning herself in the Seine river in the late 19th century.
The second is more recognizable: it is a stone statue of the Buddha, seated in deep meditation, perhaps even nirvana.
Isn’t it absolutely marvelous how the facial expression on these two faces is almost exactly identical?1 The softest possible smile…the peace emanates from them.
Indeed, they are experiencing the same sublime peace: only the latter is experiencing it on “this side,” able still to move his body.
Nirvana means literally translated “to blow out.” Schopenhauer was infatuated with this translation, and it has often been mistaken to mean the physical death of the organism, as though the breath is blown out for the last time. It has thus been used to paint a fatalistic and life-reducing image of Buddhism by naïve interpreters.
However, what I think is blown out in nirvana is not the breath, but the conscious effort to control the breath. The breath is a curious thing, because we are able to subject it—to a very limited extent—under our voluntary control. This pattern of apparent control over the breath is what upholds our conception of ourselves as independent egos. And indeed, the cessation of this pseudo-control over this vital process is the same as the surrender of all control which results in nirvana or satori.
The curious connection with death and nirvana should still be explored. Indeed, it is said by almost all the mystics throughout time that one ought to die before one actually dies—and what they mean is exactly this, that one will not truly live as long as one is preoccupied with one’s own existence. When you put your own end behind you, you are free to explore the world for all that it’s worth.
Oh young folk —
if you fear death, die now!
Having died once you won't die again.Hakuin's death poem
Of course, accompanying this death-before-death is the silence of the mind that used to be entangled in itself and the echoes within it. Hence the Buddha sits, his face graced with the softest of smiles, listening to the sound of one hand.
Thank you for reading.
You will find this exact facial expression in many other death masks as well. I have found observing them a tremendous source of relief for existential anxiety and fear of death.
So much peace and silence shining out of these words