dimension in which we live, and do not seek to expose
what will be disclosed to us in its own time and disposition.
But if we did know that there is a return we would not
seek to escape it, and we would long not indeed for
gross being but for the power to speak, in each existence
in its own way and language, the eternal I that passes
away, and the eternal Thau that does not pass away.
We do not know if the Buddha actually leads to the
goal of release from the necessity of returning. He
certainly leads to a preliminary goal that concerns us—
to the becoming one of the soul. But he leads thither
not merely (as is necessary) apart from the " thicket of
opinions ", but also apart from the " illusion of forms "—
which for us is no illusion but rather the reliable world
(and this in spite of all subjective paradoxes in observa-
tion connected with it for us). His way, too, then, involves
disregard; thus when he speaks of our becoming aware
of the events in our body he means almost the opposite
of our physical insight with its certainty about the senses.
Nor does he lead the united being farther to that supreme
saying .of the Thou that is made possible for it. His
innermost decision seems to rest on the extinction of
the ability to say Thou.
The Buddha knows the saying of the Thou to men—
witness his intercourse with his pupils, in which, though
high above them, he speaks very directly—but he does
not teach it; for simple confrontation of being with
being is alien to this love where " all that has become
is inimitably comprised in the breast". He certainly
knows too, in the silent depths of his being, the saying
of the Thou to the primal cause—away beyond all those
"gods" that are treated by hi™ like pupils. This act