It is oft-repeated that Buddhism is not a religion, but rather a pragmatic psychology – it is quite here that the controversy within Scientology found its ground-swell, ensuring that the archaeological finds be immune to apathetic amnesia.
Professor Chowdhury and three graduate students were completing work at a monastic complex in northern India when a hermetically sealed cave was discovered. The cave contained a wide assortment of noteworthy discoveries, whose import have not yet been grappled sufficiently to be done justice – the most famous of which were writings on approx. 300 papyrus-like scrolls.
Two scrolls necessitate description here: 45f and The Hubbard Codex. The first is a hagiographic compendium of reports surrounding the Buddha’s birth. The second is a letter to a Tibetan Yogi named “Eerie Hubbarad”, and includes descriptions that require either disbelief, fantastic odds, or an incredible reincarnation performed with deliberate and strategic purpose.
The theory that forms the thin skeletal rods beneath the wings of this fantastic bird, place their proponents in a seat defying moral integrity, or else deifying the morality of integrity itself. This subtle distinction was the epicentre at which the twentieth century’s greatest writer (and arguably the greatest writer of the entire second millennia since Christ) based his life’s work. Thus it serves as an entry point into a philosophy which seduces with promises of uncountable insights to be shorn each in their time, and also into a story which begins later and continues earlier, but only because it began long before even that earlier date.
Let it be assumed – with the sincerity of a folklorist, not a medical epidemiologist – that our planetary life-world is merely a chain in a far older tree, let us call it the tree of life. Perhaps, now this is just for the story’ sake, our very soul is to ourselves, as physical frames are to plants. If we knew that we were vehicles, then morality is inherited by a morality that it does not contain, and thus the most primordial drive becomes not “to thrive” but rather “to thrive as one wants to thrive”.
Thus Hubbard made a leap which others would have left at the bottom of bucket bong, saying that it was as if we had thought that the sun revolves the Earth, when in fact, we aren’t using morality to impose our beliefs, but impose our beliefs in opposition to morality, which is not merely epistemically dubious, but in fact metaphysically void[1].
And then he leaps again, proving that the scribe is no less a warrior for his choice of ink over tempered steel. If, says the savant, my sense of self was implanted in this world by a world that is alien in every way except its superior vantage to earthly matters, then I must do battle with a foe which preceded every point of history.
This would have been a dead end, except that Hubbard had investigated the strange texts not taught by Christian scholars, and discovered that there was a place in the universe which was immune even to time: the unconditioned, or, the Buddha.
Unfortunately, this chapter evolves against the backdrop of a fear of rotting sanity, and barbaric medicines prove that if he is insane, then the world has designed itself to suit this possibility, which at the very least it has not disqualified.[2]
Hubbard starts to see his enemies everywhere. It is unfortunate that his spiritual successors chose to inherit this emotion as though it were a philosophy, akin to ceremonial robes worn by the ancient Stoics or secret cult, whose justification for perpetuation is proven by their persistence into that present time. Amongst the ranks and breed of these agents, who (according to his paranoia’s plots) seek both his life and credibility, is a caretaker who had once been a Tibetan hermit, but now was a civilized professional, and in unceasing and ever-solitary labour worked to clean and hide all signs of psychosis and hysteria. This Tibetan[3] would sit beneath a lemon tree in his spare hours and unscheduled days, often meditating, sometimes mending clothes. It was obvious to anyone, including Hubbard, that this was propitious for gaining his advantage (over his adversary – although it seems doubtful that the menial labourer knew just how central his avatar formed in another’s story).
Long story short, the caretaker was found dead in East Pakistan, and Hubbard reappeared on the American continent, claiming to have completed a research Sabbatical abroad.
Now for the literal contents of the papyrus treasures:
The 45f includes a relevant curiosity amongst its pantheon of unexpected marvels. Specifically, it relates a party of monks who arrive to hear the Buddha talk about the importance of right effort, but are interrupted by a rude stranger (apparently with sickly skin, and poor vocabulary and pronunciation) who asks about the karmic aggregate who volunteers to increase his conditioning in order to weaken the grasp of his moral soul’s transitioning from doer of deeds to eater of fruits. At first, the disciples attempt to answer but are rebuffed with answers that prove their adversary’s studied consideration and expertise. Then the Buddha responds, but not by disagreeing, but by asking the stranger whether he wishes to escape dissatisfaction, the answer is not recorded (or missing from records), but the Buddha’s rejoinder survives to be read:
The Walker of Paths for Devas and Men answered,
“It is unwholesome to do what is blameworthy. It is blameworthy to increase much suffering for the sake of little suffering. One who does not apply the right effort, nor has the right view, will continue to be born, will continue to die. Unless he can end the birth of the Buddha, then what was blameworthy will become wholesome, and that which caused attachment may bring freedom. This is the path of insanity. This is the path of self-destruction. This is the path of gods who give birth to a son in order that they gnaw a lesser’s skull and vertebrae and thigh bone.”
Now for the second codex, whose contents will strain conceivability, unless already torn wide open.
In the mid-16th century, a letter was passed from the American colonies, through the Dutch fleets, through Muslim traders, Chinese, and eventually a yogi named Eerie Hubbarad. The letter speaks in a familiar tone and references at least two other letters, one towards the Americas, the other towards the Asians. The possibility and likelihood of more than two is fruitless speculation, and I eschew any consideration more than this caveat.
The letter claims success in burying golden tablets, in purchasing the loyalty of certain swaths of indigenous clan polities, and asks whether the recipient (the yogi) has been experiencing any karmic eddies beyond the usual since the summer solstice’s full moon.
By themselves, these appear as bricolage amongst the possible shapes conjured in a mind’s mist, when caught beyond the strength to grasp the absolute truth. Which was the position Hubbard discovered the world, itself to itself, to have capitulated blindly and dumbly. But if Hubbard’s madness can be ascribed a method, which is consistent in its inconsistency, then all these details, and others from his well-documented biography become suggestive motifs, implicating Chekov’s gun via a horoscope’s familiarity with features that universalize all our lives.
We may not know what the American continent implied for a Tibetan world renouncer, but it is safe to assume that if Hubbard were writing the script, then the narrative would progress by utterly human and mundane hobbling needs, which in Hubbard’s case, more than anything else, was a need to know himself free.
Thus it all shows itself too clearly:
- In mid-1900’s Hubbard discovers that the spiritual “world” is a vessel for a world which cannot be judged since to look “beyond” is only ever to see one’s own event horizon.
- Thus even unity of identity must be surpassed since the self is believed to be “beyond”, and therefore it is fruitless to measure our “self beyond” since all we see are the restrictions we can’t see which make the self-look like self even though it is not really.
- Thus need a point of freedom from a chain of existence, aka the unconditioned walkers.
- But even they only strive for a nirvana which looks heavenly even when seen from below.
- Thus need to strive for a nirvana which is apriori believed to be UnDelineatable, and when thought, becomes a vehicle against thought.
- Thus he needed to create a situation in which a reincarnating enlightened being (i.e. who chooses to reincarnate in order to spin the dhamma wheel) becomes the source of their future suffering, such that they are driven to avoid seeking nirvana after all. This attempt at “hacking reality”, he believed to operate by principles of possibility, which strove to hide the noumenal from the phenomenal, by making everything that is known, seen as known and never seen as not known (except by allusion).
- Thus he used a con artist to hobble the world’s premier religion, so that the earth may send a warrior (crazy horse) to fight against our alien overlords.
- The caretaker was apparently sent by the Buddha millennia earlier in an attempt at thwarting Hubbard, planning to fulfil the writer’s insane plan in order to punish him with good karma. The monk meditates on the patient called Hubbard until he learns to see a lemon tree as the fruit of Hubbard seeing rupa sensed through aggregating factors. Since Hubbard is already losing unified-integrity (i.e. the conscious wave-equation within the reality, which is solved by there being a person called Hubbard), Saturdays become a point of self-hatred, wherein he sees himself sent to reincarnate across millennia and continents, merely to spite himself by giving himself what he craves.
- But killing himself, he creates negative karma which cannot be passed onto any fruit, since his fruit is only in his past, having achieved his goal in a manner unexpected by the Occidental mindset. Thus are caused two lineages, which are brothers who see each other as a tree with yellow fruit. The Tibetan lineage are the discoverers of this homology, but the British are the one’s to see potential for mundane acquisition of power.
- Both, however, are still pawns within a game between an Indian prince and an American madman, which in turn is an older game, between a universe of gods who hid themselves on Earth, and a universe of men who used their Earth to fill the universe with gods who they send to find them.
- It is a surprise, which is why I mention, to realize that the Buddha favoured the old gods who travelled through space to fertilize Earth’s soul, which was why he believed that psychological spirituality sufficed. Whereas Hubbard believed that he had created those old gods, and thus believed that psychology was an effort to reduce man to the scope of his mind’s eye.
The story ends.
But I add the question everyone else skips: What happened to Hubbard? If he succeeded then what? And if he failed, then what?
And I add the answer: He wrote this[4].
[1] Why is it void? Because we thought we were trying to use values and beliefs to find our “self”, not realizing that our very agreement with the claim to “this belief feels like self” is unproven, and could just as simply be due to a truer moral imperative, which is to see that the self is our enemy not our throne for ascent.
[2] These details don’t add anything to the theoretical framework of the codices (and our ongoing research into their implications for the current geological standoff between the Buddhist Sri Lankans, and the Californian Scientologists), but they establish a necessary mood lighting, namely mint green paint on walls lit by flickering bulbs, which dance to the step of an electroconvolscent contraption in the basement, two floors below ground level).
[3] According to reconstructions based on (1) two unrelated diary entries in two unrelated diaries by two patients who never met, but who shared Hubbard’s primary doctor, and (2) an experimental recording, made by patients from the ECT machine which they had dismantled for the very purpose of creating the recording.
[4] This is just one example of a sentence which was crafted to agonize with tormenting doubt our faithful, and thus another reason for declining the Sri Lankan’s latest peace initiative, which we label “unfaithful”, “unwholesome”, and “cover for their ongoing military expansion into the South China Sea”, blatantly. Whilst no longer adopting censorship as a default response, we do envision a future where, peace secure, we can destroy all fictions which masquerade as truth. FURTHERMORE There is not one material shred of evidence for the archaeological dig whose findings are supposedly momentous (without precedent!?) in their political and historical, present day salience, yet without any evidence of their existing anywhere before a few weeks (although by the time this letter reaches your hand across the galaxy, we fear that their skill at doctoring electronic records will camouflage the few remaining lacunae by which we can prove our sanity, when challenged by our enemies taunts, and we lie like heartbroken soldiers on a battlefield of sterile doctors claiming a divine mandate [like Europe’s old kings against the new men with telescopes who feared their hypotheses to be the work of devils and stygian hordes who hide themselves between each face that blinks, or encoded in the alliterative symbology of topiaries which remind an old soldier of a young sweetheart, until he shoots himself in the temple, leaving a wife in another country unable to petition divorce, her land thenceforth the property of a baron who will leave his worldly estates to the orphanage where he abandoned 7 children, and thus setting into motion all of Chekov’s guns for a story which led British Petroleum to monopolize mineral rights to the first volley of manoeuvrable asteroids, and thus for the principal financier of our church]).
