Mircea Eliade Quotes

"Le mythe, écrit Mircea Eliade, "raconte une histoire sacrée; il relate un événement qui a eu lieu dans le temps primordial, le temps fabuleux des commencements. Autrement dit, le mythe raconte comment, grâce aux exploits des Etres surnaturels, une réalité est venue à l'existence, que ce soit la réalité totale: le cosmos,, ou seulement un fragment: une île, une espèce végétale, un comportement humain, une institution. C'est donc toujours le récit d'une "création": on rapporte comment quelque chose a été produit, a commencé à être" ("Aspects du mythe")."

The worldly man lives in society, marries, establishes a family; Yoga prescribes absolute solitude and chastity. The worldly man is “possessed” by his own life; the yogin refuses to “let himself live”; to continual movement, he opposes his static posture, the immobility of āsana; to agitated, unrhythmical, changing respiration, he opposes prānāyāma, and even dreams of holding his breath indefinitely; to the chaotic flux of psychomental life, he replies by “fixing thought on a single point,” the first step to that final withdrawal from the phenomenal world which he will obtain through pratyāhāra. All of the yogic techniques invite to one and the same gesture—to do exactly the opposite of what human nature forces one to do. From solitude and chastity to samyama, there is no solution of continuity. The orientation always remains the same—to react against the “normal,” “secular,” and finally “human” inclination.

The sacred tree, the sacred stone are not adored as stone or tree they are worshipped precisely because they are hierophanies, because they show something that is no longer stone or tree but sacred, the ganz andere or 'wholly other.

A evita ridicolul înseamnă a refuza singura şansă de nemurire.

Inainte chiar de a afla vreun raspuns satisfacator, si numai prin faptul ca a fost rostita, intrebarea justa regenereaza si fertilizeaza; si nu numai fiinta omeneasca, ci intreg Cosmosul. Ghicesc in acest simbolism solidaritatea omului cu Firea intreaga; intreaga viata cosmica sufera si se ofileste prin nepasarea omului fata de problemele centrale. Uitand sa ne punem intrebarea justa, pierzandu-ne timpul cu futilitati sau intrebari frivole, ne omoram nu numai pe noi, ci omoram prin moarte lenta si sterilizare o particica din Cosmos. As putea merge si mai departe. As putea presupune ca oamenii continua sa traiasca sanatosi si Cosmosul isi continua ritmurile datorita exclusiv intrebarilor pe care si le pun acei cativa alesi care, asemenea lui Parsifal, patimesc pentru lenea noastra spirituala. Poate ca am deveni, peste noapte, sterpi si bolnavi daca n-ar exista, in fiecare tara si in fiecare moment istoric, anumiti oameni hotarati si luminati, care sa-si puna intrebarea justa... Si n-ar fi deloc exclus ca haosul si catastrofa in care ne pregatim sa intram si noi sa se datoreze, in ultima instanta, disparitiei acestor oameni hotarati si luminati, sau faptului ca nimeni nu se mai indreapta spre ei ca sa le puna, din nou, intrebarea justa...

It would be frightening to think that in all the cosmos, which is so harmonious, so complete and equal to itself, that only human life is happening randomly, that only one's destiny lacks meaning.

Am iubit întotdeauna pe mai multe planuri, n-am ştiut să sacrific totul pentru un sâmbure de adevăr sau de viaţă, de aceea m-am lovit de toate pragurile şi m-au dus valurile cum au vrut.

"Yet the contents and structures of the unconscious are the result of immemorial existential situations, especially of critical situations, and this is why the unconscious has a religious aura. For every existential crisis once again puts in question both the reality of the world and man's presence in the world. This means that the existential crisis is, finally, "religious," since on the archaic levels of culture *being* and *the sacred* are one. As we saw, it is the experience of the sacred that founds the world, and even the most elementary religion is, above all, an ontology. In other words, in so far as the unconscious is the result of countless existential experiences, it cannot but resemble the various religious universes. For religion is the paradigmatic solution for every existential crisis. It is the paradigmatic solution notb only because it can be indefinately repeated, but also because it is believed to have a transcendental origin and hence is valorised as a revelation received from an *other*, transhuman world. The religious solution not only resolves the crisis but at the same time makes existence "open" to values that are no longer contingent or particular, thus enabling man to transcend personal situations and, finally, gain access to the world of spirit.
This is not the place to develop all the consequences of this close relation between the content and structures of the unconscious on the one hand and the values of religion on the other. We were led to refer to it in order to show in what sense even the most avowedly nonreligious man still, in his deeper being, shares a religiously oriented behavior. But modern man's "private mythologies" -his dreams, reveries, fantasies, and so on- never rise to the ontological status of myths, precisely because they are not experienced by the *whole man* and therefore do not transform a particular situation into a situation that is paradigmatic. In the same way, modern man's anxieties, his experiences in dream

Without conscious rituals of loss and renewal, individuals and societies lose the capacity to experience the sorrows and joy that are essential for feeling fully human. Without them life flattens out, and meaning drains from both living and dying. Soon there is a death of meaning and an increase in meaningless deaths.

Bunaoara, doctorul Tataru ar fi spus o data, într-un grup de medici, ca în Paradis Adam si Eva erau regenerati periodic, asadar întineriti, prin neoplasm; ca numai dupa ce-a intervenit pacatul originar, corpul omenesc a pierdut secretul regenerarii periodice si deci al tineretii fara de batrînete.

Ne uitam amândoi în dragoste, ca doi bolnavi care-și alină durerile.

The hearer of myth, regardless of his level of culture, when he is listening to a myth, forgets, as it were, his particular situation and is projected into another world, into another universe which is no longer his poor little universe of every day. . . . The myths are true because they are sacred, because they tell him about sacred beings and events. Consequently, in reciting or listening to a myth, one resumes contact with the sacred and with reality, and in so doing one transcends the profane condition, the "historical situation." In other words one goes beyond the temporal condition and the dull self-sufficiency which is the lot of every human being simply because every human being is "ignorant" — in the sense that he is identifying himself, and Reality, with his own particular situation. And ignorance is, first of all, this false identification of Reality with what each one of us appears to be or to possess.

Nu puteam crede că sunt și eu asemenea celorlalte mii de muritori nefericiți, care iubesc și uită, și mor fără să socotească nimic etern, nimic definitiv.

Îmi dau foarte bine seama că o femeie poate gusta un dans cu un partener imperfect, dacă acesta nu e cu desăvârşire un imbecil. Stângăciile, ca şi timiditatea, au un farmec discret prin surprizele care le provoacă, prin panica naivă care o răspândesc. Femeile iubesc uneori imperfecţiunile acestea atât de calde...

O văd şi acum. Storurile erau lăsate, şi în cameră era o penumbră misterioasă, o răcoare de o cu totul altă natură decât răcoarea celorlalte camere în care pătrunsesem până atunci. Nu ştiu de ce, mi se părea că totul pluteşte acolo într-o lumină verde; poate unde perdelele erau verzi. Căci, altminteri, camera era plină de fel de fel de mobile, şi lăzi, şi coşuri cu hârtii şi jurnale vechi. Dar mie mi se părea că e verde. Şi atunci, în clipa aceea, am înţeles ce este Sambo. Am înţeles că există aici, pe pământ, lângă noi, la îndemâna noastră şi totuşi invizibil celorlalţi, inaccesibil celor neiniţiaţi — există un spaţiu privilegiat, un loc paradisiac, pe care, dacă ai avut norocul să-l cunoşti, nu-l mai poţi uita, apoi, toată viaţa. Căci în Sambo simţeam că nu mai trăiesc aşa cum trăisem până atunci; trăiam altfel, într-o continuă, inexprimabilă fericire. Nu ştiu de unde izvora beatitudinea asta fără nume. Mai târziu, amintindu-mi de Sambo, am fost sigur că acolo mă aştepta Dumnezeu, şi mă lua în braţe îndată ce-i călcam pragul. N-am mai simţit, apoi, nicăieri şi niciodată, o asemenea fericire, în nici o biserică, în nici un muzeu; nicăieri şi niciodată.