The Enlightenment — Spiritual Enlightenment: the Paradox of Enlightenment
Enlightenment is a tricky thing. Recently someone asked me whether I was seeking enlightenment. I faltered a little. But because I valued this person especially highly, I tried to be honest — yes, no, um, I don’t quite know, really I am, if I am completely honest … Why this hedging? Why not simply say directly: yes, I am, as she did when she replied that she thought most people were seeking it. I am not so sure.
At any rate, the question made me uneasy. Should I admit that I am seeking enlightenment, perhaps have even found a little of it? Is that possible, to find a little enlightenment, or is it an all-or-nothing thing? What shades are there, what paths, what wrong turns, a thousand? In the evening I spoke with a friend: how many people do you know who claim to be enlightened? He laughed. “None — fortunately,” he said. And so we spoke briefly about what the question was really about. In the conversation I mixed up the Enlightenment and spiritual enlightenment. Aha! Here is the heart of the matter.
When I answered my friend, I used the image of a light I had found somewhere many years ago while thinking about the cosmos, and which I now carry with me, trying here and there to illuminate something. In its essence, that experience was the insight that the world, as it presents itself to me through my sensory perception and the mental representations of an outside world derived from it, cannot be like that; rather, the basic assumptions about space, time, matter, and consciousness are radically different. The experience of this radical otherness motivated me to study philosophy.
So I learned something about the Enlightenment and German idealism. I learned to use understanding, and reason, and aesthetics. Sometimes what is illuminated is good and beautiful and exciting, sometimes repellent, false, and deceitful. This, I think, describes the process of the Enlightenment. The light of rationality makes everything shine in its radiance and exposes it as what it truly is. To use one’s own understanding to emerge from one’s own immaturity: this was Kant’s idea of enlightenment. To become clear about one’s own understanding is an act of transcendental reflection, pure thinking, in categories and on the basis of space and time given a priori. And my unease came from the fact that this was not really what I meant. For years I had thought about it, for decades discussed it with my students. Always with the feeling that, at its core, it was not entirely wrong, but in substance it missed the point.
For what enlightenment also means is spiritual enlightenment. And this is almost the opposite. It is much closer to that experience which first moved me to study philosophy. In Eastern philosophy and spirituality, it is the central experience. There are, of course, countless paths.
Here I would like to touch briefly on Advaita philosophy. A philosophy of immanence — at least, that is how I would like to understand it. What is essential here is that it is an experience, not knowledge; or, if knowledge, then in the sense of an experience. It is about experiencing unity, that there is no difference between me and the creator, between Atman and Brahman. This is an experience that does not become accessible through argument; it cannot be deduced, explained, or falsified. It goes beyond the limits of understanding, although it can encompass them. It is not irrational, but neither is it rational. It is structured and open, it can bear contradictions, it is inclusive, embracing, understanding, forgiving, undogmatic. It is filled with light. Is this what the medieval mystics saw?
Paths I am able to experience here in India include Jnana Yoga: knowledge and wisdom; Bhakti Yoga: devotion and love for a personal god; Karma Yoga: selfless action; Raja Yoga: meditation and control of the mind; Tantra Yoga: unity of opposites; Kundalini Yoga: awakening of Kundalini energy. All these paths do not lead toward something, but have their starting point in Brahman. This form of enlightenment shows itself, reveals itself, becomes accessible to experience, manifests itself through practice. I would like this to be understood with every caution and modesty, for the pitfalls, illusions, and wrong paths are immense. When something has shown itself, it vanishes at the same time, for nothing is permanent. If I hold a thought, it fades when I think about it; if I attend to my own existence, I lose myself in memory and desire; if I think, see something in the sense of a vision, it can quickly be exposed as an illusion, an illusory image. I try to stay on the path of the Upanishads; this seems a good companion on the way. Enlightenment comes from within, on all its levels; it does not come through Enlightenment rationality — understanding and reason.
In Heidelberg we had this virtual poison cabinet containing philosophers who turn your head, who see the world so differently that all conventional thinking is called into question. We often laughed about it and were fascinated by the sheer possibility of their existence. Schopenhauer, Spinoza, Whitehead were in there. Really, this “poison cabinet” was the cabinet of antidotes to the excesses of the Enlightenment.
