Authors: H. G. Adler
The visitors wait for only a short while, then Johannes steps through a door as Josef observes him, greeting the guests quietly and simply. To Josef he says that he is pleased to meet him, Thomas had indeed said good things about him, and how nice it was that he has come, today is the right day to get to know someone. Josef knows through Thomas that Johannes is over fifty, yet he doesn’t look that old at all, his manner not seeming at all like that of someone his age, Josef having the feeling that he was sitting across from someone his own age. Thomas had in fact never said anything about Johannes’s outward appearance, and so Josef is surprised, observing a man of medium height with delicate features, his skin as pale as that of a woman, the eyes fiery and almost mischievous, the head somewhat small, with a large pointed nose, unusually long ears that are well shaped and almost ornamental, the hair just touching them and rather plain, it being hard to decide if it’s dirty blond or silver gray, it nonetheless lending the face a certain
glow. Johannes wears a dull red silk housecoat, long pants, and a soft smock, his bare feet covered by small, soft leather sandals. Josef had heard that Johannes rarely wears city clothes, but that he wears different silk coats according to his mood, choosing warmer ones for winter, but never wearing socks, not even when it’s bitter cold.
Johannes notices how closely he is being observed, but it doesn’t seem to disturb him, he perhaps revealing a slight smile as he turns from Josef and speaks with Thomas, the two of them talking quietly, making a constant chirping, though Josef doesn’t try to listen in but simply sits there quietly, feeling at ease, if not somewhat sleepy, until soon he feels left out and suddenly and without invitation he erupts with a question for Johannes: “Tell me, Herr Tvrdil, what is it that you experience?” Josef is shocked by his own question and is embarrassed, but he doesn’t want to make a fuss and adds in a forced, cheery manner with a steady tone, “You have a very nice place. I’ve never seen such a big gong before.” Johannes replies with a smile that he also finds it a warm and welcoming place, he always wanting his surroundings to be subdued, though it doesn’t take much to accomplish that, it’s the tone of the atmosphere that suffuses the house which matters, the gong functioning as a large, above all wonderful disk that serves to pacify unruly hearts, he having at one time struck the gong quite often, though now usually only when Thomas and the other friends were there, Johannes hoping that Josef might also come again in the future. Josef then thanks him for the invitation and wants to know more about the gong, to which Johannes says he has another, smaller gong that has a more silvery tone, but he puts out the larger gong because the number and quality of its overtones make for a richer sound and acoustical color, it being possible to play symphonies on it, for it’s as good as any orchestra and far better than any organ when you know how to handle it, as you need to avoid hitting it exactly in the middle, because that never sounds good, but if you strike it just to the side you’ll experience the fullest sound. Johannes explains that each different spot on the disk has its own special sound, which you then have to take advantage of, there being totally different results coming from hitting it near the edge and right on the edge, while to muffle the sound you use your hand by placing it on the gong lightly or more heavily, for you can just barely touch it with your fingertips or increase the muffling by pressing it with your whole hand,
how hard or soft you strike also determining a great deal, as well as the speed with which you hit it, all of it leading to the louder or softer tones. Johannes prefers to play it very quietly, though he knows that in Burma and Bali they do it differently, beating it wildly and thunderously, it also being done in the open or in a temple, whereas for him it is music for the house which is best played
con sordino
, a lot depending on the right drumsticks, Johannes preferring kettle drumsticks wrapped with soft cloth, normal drumsticks resulting in a raw sound, but not the music that he likes, everything else a matter of the heart which cannot be talked about, mechanical means so often distracting people and not leading them inward, the result being neither a major nor a minor tone but instead much finer gradations or flowing sequences of sound, the most genuine music being a single tone, such as from a gong, though within this single tone there exists the mystical array of overtones implicit within all sound, and as soon as this and those overtones appear they melt again into the central tone, whoever really knows the art of playing the gong knowing true music as well.
Josef wants to hear the gong, but he doesn’t say anything, yet Johannes has sensed his desire, saying that he will play it, but only just a bit, “Perhaps a bit of evening chimes in order to help us finish the day.” Josef has never heard such playing, the tower room awash with a soft music, Johannes sitting quietly across from him, the touch of his hands and the stroke of the drumstick creating a uniform work, a little stroke of the gong releasing something immensely stirring that was satisfying, faint reverberations also bouncing off the heavy curtains and the folding screens. Johannes does not in fact play very long, but unless you checked the clock it was hard to say how long it is, the gong slowly emptying of sound, after which Johannes stands up, cheerful, and says, “I know that it pleased you. It pleases everyone, and that’s good.” Josef thanks him, but Johannes says quietly that there’s no cause for thanks, for as long as you are grateful inside it is not necessary. “True thanks is silence. Words are of no use. What one wants to and can say has already been said. One should perhaps say something only in order to teach others just that.” Thomas states which old masters had in fact taught this, but Johannes interrupts him, saying, “It certainly has been taught quite often, but one should also do it oneself.” Then he turns to Josef. “What do you think? And, may I ask, how does it speak to your own
experience?” Josef answers, “I try to listen within myself. I believe that everything is inside of us already. Unfortunately, it’s difficult for me to always hear what is there. The self is a tune composed of ‘I’ and ‘thou,’ of each person and the All.”
This appears to please Johannes, as he says, “It’s all quite simple. Only the person himself is the greatest hindrance. He falls into confusion. Each should know this, and not criticize others when it happens but rather work on himself. Man’s path is a pilgrimage, but one that ends within himself. There are two ways of approaching the world. In the first, one looks at the world through a peephole. One yearns for the world all the more, until somehow you step into it. But then the ground is swept from under your feet, or in fact what really happens is you lose your way, as you cannot merge with the world by striving to enter what you want to get lost inside of. Only through the second approach can one unite with the world. In this, one closes his actual eyes and looks inside himself at the same time. The real world that then arises is the true world. The observer is stuck in the middle, and here he recovers the entire world once again, only more beautiful and complete. In this it is also possible to unite with the entire world. Much more wonderful than any gaze is not to look at all. This you learn when you first learn the second approach. Then you recognize how everything repeats itself and always remains the same: it is all one. It is what is also called emanation. Whoever recognizes this ceases to look outward, for he has unified the outer and the inner worlds within himself. What one really knows, that is what one has, this being our true estate. One no longer has to observe the world going by.” Josef affirms that he also thinks the same, but to manifest it within oneself is hard, to which Johannes adds, “That is the mistake people make, namely to say it’s hard. Thus people deny themselves the chance at paradise. It’s not hard. It’s easy. As easy as breathing.” Josef is deeply moved and says in a hoarse voice that he is pleased and would like very much to come again sometime, if that would be all right with Johannes, who then stands up with a huge smile and says, “Come whenever you like, Josef. But please, just not on Saturday or Sunday!”
Josef and Thomas warmly say goodbye, Frieda stepping in as well to spiritedly suggest that Josef visit again, after which there is a lot of handshaking until they reach the stairway outside, where Johannes and Frieda
say “Goodbye!” several times, the door hardly having closed behind them above when Thomas triumphantly and proudly declares, “Well? Didn’t I tell you that Johannes was marvelous? You could have met him much sooner if it weren’t for your stubbornness.” Josef has to agree, yet how could he have imagined how wonderful Johannes would be, for who knows what the others are like, which is still a concern, to which Thomas responds, “What do you expect? There is no one like Johannes. But among his friends there are wonderful people whom you will certainly like.” Curiosity is indeed stronger than resistance, which is why Josef is ready to visit again on Wednesday, though he doesn’t want to do so among so many strange people, and so he arranges things with Thomas, wishes him good night, and heads home lost in thought. What an unusual building Johannes lives in, it looking like a huge, erect flat iron, the sound of drumbeats pressing out from the nightclub located down below, as well as squeaking saxophones playing awful pop hits so loudly they can be heard in the street, whose own noise mixes with the sounds of the dance clubs nearby, creating a hellish mixture that nonetheless doesn’t reach as high as the tower room, where Johannes resides above the stony sea of this godforsaken city, which, in contrast to Thomas, Josef described as a lovely stone corpse because of its magnificent churches and splendid palaces. In the middle of this corpse is the pulse of the living dead, the dusty tumult of noisy streets, where cars race by in a continuous stream, where strangers forever rush about, and where last year scrawny little trees were planted in thin rows at the edge of the sidewalks, the smoke and soot having already killed them this year.
What would it be like if Johannes ruled this city from his tower above? But he has nothing to do with the lovely stone corpse, the city not a part of his truth, but rather something foreign to him, since it disturbs his peace, and yet the way of the world goes on in this city without ceasing, so who can escape it except through high-minded longing, such that the blessed peace that Josef dreams of can exist only within the tower, it not allowing itself to be found in the light of day. Yet the moment you say that, then you are already divided and at odds with yourself, the true path lost. In contrast, Thomas believes he has found the true path, and he is able to unite his thoughts and his senses as he sits there motionless, while all around him move demons and spirits with crude gestures, this underworld raging because
it has no power over Thomas, simply fading when he turns away from it, though what kinds of demons can they be unless they are nothing but illusions? Then they are the powers of fate which afford no one any peace, but Josef knows nothing of such demons, for if he thinks about his childhood, things were different then, there was only fear and unspeakable anxiety, those also being demons in the way they interfered with everything, though they eventually withdrew without Josef’s doing anything. Perhaps it is as Herr Koppelter says, namely that Josef already possesses some of the true teachings inside, but it’s not certain if they are entirely true, though one has to believe in something in order to have something on which to stand, so that everything is once again easy and given, nothing to worry about, all you need is to meditate regularly, it helps you to get through life, it all being like music, where all you have to do is listen, there being a music in all things, an overall tone, of which the gong serves as an emblem, since everything consists of symbols, as do the true teachings, and all we need do is make sure that the symbols never deteriorate into allegories. Perhaps a man is also a symbol, such that all such questions are pointless, as they would contain the answers already, while what stands between a question and its answer is only a conclusion, but just a kind of short circuit, the question and the answer melt together into a single entity, and so one must not draw conclusions, for one can save oneself a tiresome detour only by forgoing all questions. This is what Johannes has in mind when he asserts that it’s not hard but easy to discard both types of approach, or at least to be leery of them, as they prevent your arriving at an unquestioning state, yet what can you do when the meaning of life is riddled with doubt? Once you have discovered the truth, every day that follows is pointless, and everything is over. Yet this idea is erroneous, because it’s blasphemous, for it presumes the ability of the creator to judge creation, whereas one is a part of creation, a piece of creation that cannot hold sway over creation, and thus the nature and point of existence remains unknown. Yet such a consideration cannot be a mere fantasy, we are also born into life’s design, even if each of us is mortal, for life is limitless and is not just the appearance of a being that begins and then ends, but its essence is transformation, we having come from others and then passing on into others, however unknown to us they may be, but we know this feeling of having seen something or experienced something
before and wish to understand what it is. This never works, for the capacity of our memory is too small, it cannot include either birth or death.
Man wants to experience a great deal, and yet at eighteen what has Josef not already encountered that only someone who is seventy or eighty has, for Josef is taken aback by the speed of life, sensing that the end is already near, since he feels full to the brim already. How then can he believe that he’ll live a long life? He has decided to keep a diary, having thought of a motto and written it at the top of the first page: “Don’t be afraid of words!” In light of this saying Josef writes down his experiences, but not just the day-to-day ones, no, just the important ones, those he perceives, for he cannot leave the world without having done something worthwhile, future men needing to know something of him, since meaningful thoughts flow through his head, he not having wasted his time but instead having tried to make the most of every minute. Perhaps the true consciousness requires that one’s spirit remain awake at all times by not frittering away each day, or chasing skirts like a drunk, or forgetting yourself and allowing yourself to be numbed by any means at hand, whether it be through hanging around in bars, dealing cards, chasing after dance partners, obsessing about sports, rather than continuing to try to think, read books, listen to music, make good friends, and seek replenishment in nature. Above all, it’s important to handle yourself independently in all matters, rather than echoing others, empty repeated words being nothing but hypocrisy.