Discussion with the author of The Avatar Syndrome

A dear friend of mine who read The Avatar Syndrome asked me if Anne, the heroin of my novel, is my concept of what a saint is, or should be. I had to smile. The strange thing was that when writing the story, the concept of sainthood never entered my mind. But she suffered so, and she was so good, my friend reminded me. And she gave so much. In fact, she gave all she had…

Perhaps, but that too is not my idea of what a saint is. You are not a saint because you are good, I replied. You are good because you are a saint. (Whatever the word good might mean to anyone).

Explain?

Well, I said, saints distinguish themselves from other mortals by their state of consciousness, not by what they do or don’t do. What I mean is that a saint’s consciousness is universal. It is not parochial, narrow or limited by emotional or even rational choices. A saint cannot really distinguish between himself or herself, and everybody else.

You mean they are devoid of personality?

In a way. They are possessed of a very powerful individuality, but not personality. My friend looked troubled. Isn’t that just a play on words?

I smiled again. People who do not write, who are not scribblers, as Mordecai Richler referred to himself, do not have to trouble about the real meaning of words. To most people, I suppose, etymology is just a nine-letter word. Nevertheless, words, all words, are little more than symbols. They symbolize whatever we think of at the time when we describe a particular person, an object or a particular action. Many-a-time the same word means different things to different people. To some wealth means money, to others peace of mind or munificence of soul. Power, for some, means control over other people; to others it is the very antithesis of love. There are countless examples.

The word individual comes from Latin, individualis, meaning inseparable. That which cannot be set apart. In case of saints, their consciousness cannot be set apart from the Whole. From all that is. Or was, for that matter. Or from whatever, ever, will be. At the universal level there is no time. Time is only a convenient concept for setting things apart from happening all at once. At the universal level of consciousness, you and I are one, or, to employ the concept of individuality, we cannot be separated from the Universal. Personality, on the other hand, is that which sets us apart. Rather like faith versus religion. The first joins us, the second sets us apart. Most unsaintly, I murmured.

My friend was looking lost.

It seems to me, I resumed, that we are all individual, meaning indivisible and inseparable, expressions of a Single Entity. Of the Whole. Whether you call IT god or anything else, it matters little. As I said, words are just symbols. What a symbol means to you is what matters. But what the concept does entail is that you cannot hurt anyone without hurting yourself. Now when this idea becomes the dominant expression of your psyche, better still, your state of consciousness, you will probably be well on the way to sainthood. You are becoming integrated into One. Now, was Anne one with all her public?

What? He looked startled.

Did Anne, the heroine of my book, achieve oneness, unity, with her public? Isn’t that what you asked me?

She certainly did with all the composers she played. With all their concertos, my friend assured me.

Ah, yes. She achieved perfect equanimity as well as unanimity with all the composers who were long dead. Who knows, perhaps Anne was a saint after all. You tell me.

You can get your copy of The Avatar Syndrome at:
http://stankap.netfirms.com/