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I'm sure there are many modern scholars and materialists that will try to read to this book only to come away with absolutely no understanding of it. That is because all such teachings are presented for those with the "ears to hear." If you are ready, then you will intuitively understand what is meant by such terms as quantity and quality, indeed, you've probably known it for many years. Indeed, if you understand what is being discussed here you will no doubt understand the source works with minimal interpretation (the Gitas, Upanishads, the Tao te Ching, the Hermetica, the Gnostic Scriptures, etc.) You will also recognize false and dead academic interpretations of no real understanding.... To the quantitative, empirical, analytical, statistical-minded academics out there this will all be dismissed as self-referencing, hermeneutical, irrationality. However, you will know better in your heart of hearts, for you understand mystical insight and direct intuitive recognition of the underlying values, meanings, and perceptions of things. You know the difference between rational and suprarational understanding. You are steadily ascending the vertical axis of the Cross. You are becoming, through "recollection", the sage and teacher that you could never find among the sterile, dead ashes of the modern world of scientism.
I personally found it enlightening that both Coomaraswamy and Guenon were initially highly accomplished in the sciences and mathematics. You see, they didn't reject the material world (the horizontal arm of the Cross), they just recognized that it was the lowest and most trivial part of Creation and instead chose to ascend the vertical arm of the Cross, towards man's last end, s'eternar....
Other authors of who have made arguments along similar lines as Coomaraswamy are Frithjof Schuon and Hustom Smith.
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To establish that the Buddha was a Hindu, Coomaraswamy first denies that the Buddha was in any way a social reformer. For the Buddha's rejection of the caste system was nothing of the sort: "what he actually did was to distinguish the Brahman by mere birth from the true Brahman by gnosis, and to point out that the religious vocation is open to a man of any birth: there was nothing new in that." In one sweeping assertion, Coomaraswamy radically revises the history of caste. Apparently in Coomaraswamy's view, the true system of caste in ancient India was a meritocracy in which any outcaste with a religious vocation could study the Vedas and practice Brahmanical rituals. Needless to say, this attitude conceals and trivializes the terrible inequities of the caste system, both past and present.
Coomaraswamy's greatest concern, however, is to show that the Buddha's teachings were in no way doctrinal innovations. Most notably, Coomaraswamy denies that the Buddha taught the non-existence of the self. To this end he engages in an elaborate series of intellectual gymnastics that should manage to bewilder any reader who is still following along. For instance, he chooses the extremely awkward "un-Selfisness" [sic] as his translation of the Buddhist term more commonly rendered "no-self" (Pali anatta, Sanskrit anatman). Of course, in this denial of the doctrine of no-self he has had a great deal of company; virtually every western scholar of Buddhism in the 19th and early 20th century seemed to try to find some way of making this seemingly nihilistic doctrine more harmonious with the Christian belief in an eternal soul. As a Hindu, Coomaraswamy's unique contribution to this history is his insistence that "the Buddhist point of view is exactly the same as the Brahmanical." To make such a claim required that Coomaraswamy and Horner engage in a great deal of translational mischief in the second part of the book, their presentation of excepts from the Pali canon. So, for instance, a passage normally rendered as "Go along, monks, taking refuge in yourselves" becomes "Go along, monks, having Self as refuge." (For more on the no-self doctrine and specific issues in translating Pali terminology, see Steven Collins's _Selfless Persons_.)
It may sound strange, but Coomaraswamy's book is ultimately not about the Buddhist religion at all, since for him this religion is at its root an enormous misunderstanding. Readers interested in the Buddhist religion should read Walpola Rahula's _What the Buddha Taught_, which remains the best introduction to Buddhism written in English. For Coomaraswamy, the Buddha was a Hindu sage who taught no new doctrines and implemented no new social practices, but agreed with all of the great (non-Buddhist) thinkers in (European) world history, including Plato, Aristotle, Augustine, Aquinas, Eckhart, et al. This position would have appealed especially to 20th century advocates of the "perennial philosophy," thinkers such as Aldous Huxley and Joseph Campbell who sought to combine all of the world's philosophies and religions into one unified, albeit extremely vague, body of wisdom. Yet Coomaraswamy's vision is deeply offensive to contemporary Buddhists, just as a writer would offend Christian believers who claims that Jesus was just another not particularly innovative Pharisaic Jew deeply misunderstood by his followers. Thankfully, however, in the early 21st century dialogue on Buddhism, ideas like Coomaraswamy's have generally fallen out of favor. Today's scholars are more apt to acknowledge that Buddhists themselves, not Hindus or western orientalists, have been the best caretakers of the Buddha's teachings.
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But, why I liked this book? -- because it gives a satisfying explanation of the image of Nataraja, the Dancing Shiva ( that stimulated Fritjof Capra to write his masterpiece "The Tao of Physics"). It also explains the philosophy behind the Indian images with multiple arms.
I recommend this book to serious readers as it provides a rare insight. It leaves you with fewer questions, but more answers. Equally worth reading is the foreward by Romain Rolland.
The writer I'd compare him to, perhaps weirdly, is Joseph Conrad - if the young Conrad had, instead of going to sea, run away to join a museum and become an art historian, curator, philosopher and intellectual bridge between worlds. Certainly both men have a similar way of making you pay attention to every single word, and - this is so rare - repaying that attention with insight, not only into what the author means by what he's saying, but what he's actually talking about ie. the subject under discussion.
In a novelist this is a great thing, but in a historian of thought, art, mythology, metaphysics etc. it's almost miraculous. He spent his life explaining what we look at when we look at art - and why art matters, what it's for. Every sentence that he wrote was written to assist. And these good intentions are almost tangible.
In 1975, I dropped out of architecture and wandered off to become a poet, to the despair of my family and the amusement of my friends. At first this mostly just involved smoking pot and waiting for something to happen. Then I found this book. Just the footnotes are a virtual study guide to the wisdom of the world. Plato and Shankara, Aquinas and Eckhart and Plotinus and the Upanishads etc. It was all new to me back then, this book my door.
It was like my Yoda. It taught me how to read and think and start to know things for myself, and find the next book too, and the book after that. It also, and this was so important, helped me understand (in a way that didn't fall apart the first time someone called me on it) why art of any kind is not only worth doing, but doing well, the best you can. I love this book.
If you're interested in art (in any form, not just pictures on a wall) you will be interested in what he has to say. You might not accept all of his argument, but in the process you'll have thought harder and more clearly about where you stand than you ever normally get the chance to. And you'll learn things you didn't know. Because in this little book, as in all his work, Coomaraswamy is trying to pass on a vast and ancient and fruitful tradition in the best way that he can. And I'm grateful to him for having tried so hard, and succeeded so well.
I mean, it's just a bunch of essays, but hey - go for the paperback. It's cheap and well made (by Dover, a company that knows how to bind books) and you just might like it.