The genius of Peter Matthiessen and his Snow Leopard: The greatest meditation on the present moment and human frailty ?
In 1973 Peter Matthiessen was lucky enough to join George Schaller, a prominent field biologist on his expedition to study the wild sheep of the Himalaya. This is the broad context for the Snow Leopard, yet it says little of the writer’s own quest, as he journeys north, from the desolate poverty-stricken villages in the foothills of Nepal, to the high sanctuary of the Tibetan plateau. Matthiessen is writer of rare talent, an author whose sentences get to the very core of what it is to be in the world.
“Upstream in the inner canyon, silences are deepened by the roar of stones.”
Silences are deepened by the roar of stones… I say it again, silences are deepened by the roar of stones.
I believe Matthiessen is pointing toward something that is unexplained through mere communication in words. His metaphors about the land and nature reveal how language can only point toward the extraordinary. I think he is talking about the hollowness of time and the individual in the world when he talks of such silences and yet, as his writing is both so precise, revealing of something deeper than the immediate layer, and also carrying this almost mystical ambiguity, you feel as if you have only touched upon his words meaning but not quite fully grasped its intention.
Something is listening and I listen too. Who is it that intrudes here? Who’s breathing? I pick a fern to see its spores, cast it away and then filled that instant with misgiving. The great sin so the Sherpas say are to pick wildflowers and to threaten children. My voice murmurs its regret. Who is it that spoke? Who is it that is not me? Who is that ever present I?”
Peter Matthiessen’s words catch me cold. This passage from the Snow Leopard is bewitching. The entire books prose is captivating. Never have I encountered an author who writes so movingly and yet so objectively of his subject. I have heard similar sentiments, similar utterances before yet this is the best, most complete signpost towards that ambiguous realm of self-realisation, for want of a better phrase, I have yet heard. In this short passage, he has separated what his inner voice was telling him, regret, from something else that observed said regret. The inner Matthiessen murmuring regret is different to the one who has observed it. I appreciate being reminded of this dualism. It reminds me that my thoughts are not necessarily me and to a greater extent provides a soothing distance from emotions. If what we think can be observed, so too can our emotions. This provides greater sense of clarity, I am not pulled by my mind’s attention, but rather have firmer foundations. I would like to see it as a middle way of sorts, observing rather than leaning into the minds immediate pull.
But back to the subject. It is not what the title would suggest, the snow leopard features only periodically, and even then, it is as a wide Buddhist metaphor that basically warns against all striving, longing. Ultimately as Matthiessen articulates, to see the snow leopard would be inevitably unsatisfying, for it could never be- however much we would want it to be- what our heart desires. The beauty of such a creature is in its rareness, uniqueness. No, the subject of Matthiessen’s work is not the snow Leopard, it is not even the harsh realm of the Tibetan plateau which he observes so diligently. Matthiessen subject is something far deeper. It observes with uncanny proximity everything that is in his scope of awareness. From the present-day affairs of the expedition, the present state of his mind and his physical body. It is obvious that Matthiessen’s prose is the result of a series of individual diary entries or logs, that, built up provide enough material for his book. This is most definitely where the ability to get so close to his surroundings stems from, each page feels like an embellished set of field notes, which is essentially what they are.
Human Frailty, Human Flux
This daily recording of events enables Matthiessen’s book to reveal just how frail the human condition can be. There are states of intense revelry, gratitude and pure contentment in parts. For example, this is most apparent upon first arriving at the crystal monastery, where Matthiessen becomes utterly enchanted, not daring to move for fear of breaking the spell of the ‘soft silent place. Or he could be weather beaten, tired, fearful and cold, trudging along a misty path in the northern Himalaya feeling sorry for himself, ‘feeling mutilated, murderous’ and ‘in a fury of dark energies’, cursing mistrustful Sherpa’s’ or his companion George, GS in the book. The wonderful thing about this is that we as the reader are allowed into this. I love the honesty and openness. We can see how frail the human mind is, how vulnerable it is to external events beyond our control. But, and most important I think, is that we see the flux. This daily, hourly flux of emotions, feelings wants, and needs of the human body, which is of course exacerbated by the conditions Matthiessen has put himself in. For this it is special alone.
Matthiessen’s sentences, like many, are better appreciated and understood read twice. It reminds me of the need for reflection when we read, the need to digest what is being said. We also need to be wary when we read. What I mean by this is that we need to read purely to read, and not to get to the end of the page. “Wash the dishes to wash the dishes” as Thich Nhất Hanh brilliantly guides in his book on staying in the present moment, The Miracle of Mindfulness.
I have just booked a trip to see the northern lights, perhaps they can be for me what the Snow Leopard was for Matthiessen.
