HE HAD READ intensively; and though he was poor, he considered himself rich in knowledge, which gave him a certain happiness. He spent many hours with his books and a great deal of time by himself. His wife was dead, and his two children were with some relatives; and he was rather glad to be out of the mess of all relationship, he added. He was oddly self-contained, independent and quietly assertive. He had come a long way, he said, to go into the question of meditation, and especially to consider the use of certain chants and phrases, whose constant repetition was highly conducive to the pacification of the mind. Also, in the words themselves there was a certain magic; the words must be pronounced rightly and chanted correctly. These words were handed down from ancient times; and the very beauty of the words, with their rhythmic cadence, brought about an atmosphere that was helpful to concentration. And forthwith he began to chant. He had a pleasant voice, and there was a mellowness born of the love of the words and their meaning; he chanted with the ease of long practice and devotion. The moment he began to chant, he was lost to everything.
他读了很多书籍； 虽然他很穷， 但他认为自己在知识上很丰富，这给了他某种幸福。 他花了很多时间看书，也花了很多时间独自一人。 他的妻子死了，他的两个孩子和一些亲戚在一起。 他补充说，他很高兴能摆脱所有关系中的混乱。 他出奇地自足，独立而安静地自信。 他说，他已经走了很长一段路，进入了冥想的问题， 特别地，研究了使用某些圣歌和短语， 这些咒语和短语的不断重复，非常有利于头脑的安抚。 此外，在文字本身中也有一定的魔力； 这些词必须正确发音和正确吟唱。 这些词是从古代流传下来的。 这些词的美感，以及它们的韵律、节奏， 带来了一种有助于集中注意力的氛围。 他立即开始吟唱。 他有一个愉快的音色， 并且由于对单词及其含义的热爱而产生一种醇厚的气息； 经历了长时间的练习和奉献，他轻松地吟唱着。 在他开始吟唱的那一刻，他忘记了一切。
From across the field came the sound of a flute; it was haltingly played, but the tone was clear and pure. The player was sitting in the rich shadow of a large tree, and beyond him in the distance were the mountains. The silent mountains, the chant, and the sound of the flute seemed to meet and disappear, to begin again. The noisy parrots flashed by; and once again there were the notes of the flute, and the deep, powerful chant. It was early in the morning, and the sun was coming over the trees. People were going from their villages to the town, chatting and laughing. The flute and the chant were insistent, and a few passers-by stopped to listen; they sat down on the path and were caught up in the beauty of the chant and the glory of the morning, which were not in any way disturbed by the whistle of a distant train; on the contrary, all sounds seemed to mingle and fill the earth. Even the loud calling of a crow was not jarring.
从田野的另一边传来笛声。 它被断续地吹奏，但音调清晰而纯净。 吹奏者坐在一棵大树的浓密阴影下， 他的远处是大山。 寂静的山峦、 吟唱、笛声仿佛相遇、消失、再次相遇。 嘈杂的鹦鹉一闪而过； 再次响起了长笛的音符，以及深沉而有力的吟唱。 当时是清晨，太阳从树上掠过。 人们从他们的村庄去镇上，聊天和大笑。 长笛和吟唱持续不断，几个路人停下来听； 他们坐在小路上， 沉浸在吟唱的美丽和早晨的荣光中， 这些都没有受到远处火车的汽笛声的干扰； 相反，所有的声音似乎都混合在一起，充盈着大地。 就连乌鸦的大声呼叫也不刺耳。
How strangely we are caught in the sound of words, and how important the words themselves have become to us: country, God, priest, democracy, revolution. We live on words and delight in the sensations they produce; and it is these sensations that have become so important. Words are satisfying because their sounds reawaken forgotten sensations; and their satisfaction is greater when words are substituted for the actual, for what is. We try to fill our inward emptiness with words, with sound, with noise, with activity; music and the chant are a happy escape from ourselves, from our pettiness and boredom. Words fill our libraries; and how incessantly we talk! We hardly dare to be without a book, to be unoccupied, to be alone. When we are alone, the mind is restless, wandering all over the place, worrying, remembering, struggling; so there is never an aloneness, the mind is never still.
我们被言语的声音所吸引，是多么奇怪！ 对我们来讲，这些话语变得如此重要： 国家、上帝、牧师、民主、革命。 我们靠言语生活，并喜悦于它们产生的感觉； 正是这些感觉，使词语变得如此重要。 词语是令人满意的，因为它们的声音重新唤醒了被遗忘的感觉； 当言语替代了实际，替换了真实，它们带来的满意度更高。 我们试图用言语、声音、噪音、活动来填补我们内心的空虚； 音乐和圣歌是我们逃避自己、逃避琐碎和无聊的快乐之旅。 文字填满了我们的图书馆；以及我们不停地交谈中！ 如果没有了书，没有被占据，处于独立的状态， 我们几乎不敢承受。 当我们独处时， 头脑是躁动不安的，到处游荡，担忧，回忆，挣扎； 因此从来没有独立，头脑永不安宁。
Obviously, the mind can be made still by the repetition of a word, of a chant, of a prayer. The mind can be drugged, put to sleep; it can be put to sleep pleasantly or violently, and during this sleep there may be dreams. But a mind that is made quiet by discipline, by ritual, by repetition, can never be alert, sensitive and free. This bludgeoning of the mind, subtly or crudely, is not meditation. It is pleasant to chant and to listen to one who can do it well; but sensation lives only on further sensation, and sensation leads to illusion. Most of us like to live on illusions, there is pleasure in finding deeper and wider illusions; but it is fear of losing our illusions that makes us deny or cover up the real, the actual. It is not that we are incapable of understanding the actual; what makes us fearful is that we reject the actual and cling to the illusion. Getting caught deeper and deeper in illusion is not meditation, nor is decorating the cage which holds us. Awareness, without any choice, of the ways of the mind, which is the breeder of illusion, is the beginning of meditation.
显然， 头脑可以通过重复一个单词，一首吟诵，一种祈祷而安宁。 头脑可以被下药，进入睡眠状态； 它可以愉快或暴力地被催眠，在这种睡眠期间可能会有梦。 但是，一个因纪律、仪式、重复而变得安静的头脑， 永远不可能是警觉的、敏感的和自由的。 这种对头脑的打击，无论是微妙的还是粗暴的，都不是冥想。 唱诵和听一个能唱得很好的人，是令人愉快的； 但感觉靠进一步的感觉而存活，而感觉导致幻觉。 我们大多数人都喜欢生活在幻觉中， 找到更深层次和更广阔的幻觉是有趣的； 但正是害怕失去我们的幻想，使我们拒绝或掩盖真实、现实。 这并不是说我们没有能力理解实际情况； 可怕的是，我们拒绝现实，执着于幻觉。 在幻觉中越陷越深，不是冥想， 装饰关押我们的笼子，也不是冥想。 无选择地意识头脑的方式，幻觉的温床， 是冥想的开端。
It is odd how easily we find substitutes for the real thing, and how contented we are with them. The symbol, the word, the image, becomes all-important, and around this symbol we build the structure of self-deception, using knowledge to strengthen it; and so experience becomes a hindrance to the understanding of the real. We name, not only to communicate, but to strengthen experience; this strengthening of experience is self-consciousness, and once caught in its process, it is extremely difficult to let go, that is, to go beyond self-consciousness. It is essential to die to the experience of yesterday and to the sensations of today, otherwise there is repetition; and the repetition of an act, of a ritual, of a word, is vain. In repetition there can be no renewal. The death of experience is creation.
奇怪的是，我们很容易找到真实的替代品， 而我们对它们多么的满足！ 符号、文字、形象变得至关重要， 围绕这个符号，我们建立自我欺骗的结构， 用知识来加固它； 因此，体验成为理解真实的障碍。 我们命名，不仅是为了沟通，也是为了加强体验； 这种体验的强化，就是自我意识， 一旦陷入这个进程，就极难放手， 那就是，远离自我意识。 死于昨天的经历和今天的感觉，都是必要的， 否则就有重复； 重复一个行为、一个仪式、一个词，是徒劳的。 在重复中，不可能有更新。 体验的死亡，就是创造。