The Indian Ascetic and I

The disillusionment of the Indian ascetic is very similar to the chronic pessimism so characteristic of me. It is my profound belief that happiness is a myth and that attachments bring nothing but pain; one day they must all be relinquished or they will become too draining. The outcome of such philosophy of life leads to a withdrawal, similar to the Indian ascetic's, into my inner world. Hence, the inability to reach happiness through external reality and involvement with others is the Indian ascetic's main problem, as it is mine. In this instance, then, when I describe this aspect of the Indian ascetic's character, I am really writing about myself. The involvement with our inner world is a characteristic we hold in common. I have a way of losing myself in my creative spells and daydreams, from which I emerge a bit dazed and disoriented; similarly, the Indian ascetic withdraws into himself after reading the Sacred Texts, only to be jarred, at times, by the happy trumpeting of the elephant herd.




Finally, just as the Indian ascetic is unable to find satisfaction in a heterosexual relation and falls back more and more on the illusion of happiness and fulfillment, so we find that I flee from an involvement with women to the warmth and security of my room, with a warm rug and an inviting collection of books, and the illusion of a mother who, in my fantasies, hovers over me, catering to my every whim, ordering the household around my needs, and treating me with respect and awe. Both the Indian ascetic and I are too self-involved to develop a true object-relation to members of the opposite sex. For both of us, the roots of disillusion seem to center on the inability of real people to fulfill the primitive needs of a narcissistic nature.