From the Independent, Thursday 15 February 2007
Douglas Harding
Mystic writer 'of genius'
Douglas
Edison Harding, writer and philosopher: born Lowestoft, Suffolk 12
February 1909; twice married (two sons, one daughter); died Nacton,
Suffolk 11 January 2007.
If one wished to find an example of a young man who was not willing to
accept the extreme religious conditioning in which he was reared, it
would be hard to find one more striking than Douglas Harding. In the
face of tears and entreaties he broke away from his family's Christian
fundamentalist sect, and then set out on a long journey of
self-discovery. The result, 20 years later, was a groundbreaking work
of philosophy, The Hierarchy of Heaven and Earth: a new diagram of man
in the Universe (1952). C.S. Lewis wrote an enthusiastic preface and
the book is still in print.
Douglas Harding was born in Lowestoft
in 1909 into the Exclusive Plymouth Brethren, a community in which
newspapers, novels, theatres, cinemas and even laughter were forbidden
or frowned upon. Studying architecture in London at the age of 21 he
confronted the Elders with a 10-page thesis of his objections and was
promptly excommunicated. He was estranged from his family for the rest
of his life.
He had been staying with a Plymouth Sister, and had
to leave at once. With no money from his parents, he took cheaper
lodgings, but was told by his new landlady that he was in league with
the Devil - by chance, she was another Sister and had heard of his
apostasy.
Harding excelled in his examinations and began
practising architecture in London and later in India, where he was
commissioned into the Royal Engineers during the Second World War. But
all this time he was driven by the burning question "Who am I?" Since
boyhood he had been alive to the wonder and mystery of existence and he
felt it a waste of the gift of life not to enquire into who, precisely,
was living it. If he was wrong about "the Centre" he might be wrong
about everything. Questioning all things that could not be verified by
direct observation, taking nothing on trust, he began with the attitude
of a scientist and ended with the insights of a mystic.
A key
moment in his enquiry was discovering a drawing by the Austrian
physicist and philosopher Ernst Mach (whom Albert Einstein called "the
forerunner of Relativity"). It was a self- portrait, but not as seen in
a mirror. Mach had drawn what he actually saw from where he was - feet,
legs, hands, arms and torso - but no face or head. Harding realised
that this was how he saw himself if he looked objectively, with the
innocence of a child. It was like having the universe on his shoulders
instead of a head. He describes the odd experience in a later book, On
Having No Head (1961), now regarded as something of a spiritual
classic: "I had lost a head and gained a world."
It was on the
thread of this perception that the whole of The Hierarchy came to be
hung. Harding had a genius for developing the implications of his
vision and relating it to the insights of philosophers, poets, mystics
and scientists, and the book grew so large as to be unpublishable. He
sent a condensed version to C.S. Lewis, who later reproached himself
"that this celestial bomb should have lain undetonated on my table all
these months". Having read it he wrote to the author,
Hang it
all, you've made me drunk, roaring drunk as I haven't been on a book
since reading Bergson in World War I . . . how have you lived 40 years
without my hearing of you before? . . . my sensation is that you have
written a work of the highest genius.
He added, "England is disgraced if this book doesn't get published."
After
the publication of The Hierarchy Harding wrote eight shorter books
aimed at a wider audience. They all address the same theme - that one's
central identity, or inmost being, is immediately accessible through
direct experience; empty, simple and silent in itself, it contains or
manifests all the forms, colours, sounds and complexities of this
ever-changing world. He identified this perception with the Original
Face of Zen, the Self of Vedanta, and that "glassy essence" of which,
Shakespeare tells us, we are most ignorant though most assured.
Harding had a resonant voice, benign presence and delightful humour. His workshops took him all over the world.
Alan Rowlands
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