Pythagoras the Mathemagician

by Karim El Koussa

  In the horizon, the orange solar disk grew bigger before fading bit by bit in the heart of the Mediterranean Sea. The musical rhythm of his lyre, soft and nostalgic, echoed in the silence of the falling night to bestow on him a tranquil sense of peace. He had acquired this habit of seeking shelter in his music when sadness troubled his heart. In Saydoun, he was known as the long-haired musician.

  With the spread of darkness and the increase of the stars in the sky above, Pythagoras rested on his back to admire the beauty of the galaxy. He continued playing his music. Millions of tiny spots illuminated the Heavenly Matrix. They appeared boundless to him. Again, like always, he wondered about their nature, their age, and their movements; the answers still unknown to him; a dilemma in the world of forms.

  Dreams invaded his imagination, passion filled his heart and peace seized his mind.

  * * *

  The first sunrays of the day caressed the surface of the sea at the Saydounian harbor. On the pier, Pythagoras hugged his tearful mother. He caressed her shoulders to sooth down in her the pain of their farewell. His heart ached in silence at her holding on to him one more time as if finding hard to let him go. They both knew that his trip would drag longer this time. They had discussed this all week, and she had assured him, sharing in his joy at sailing towards his inevitable fate. Yet, at facing the cruel reality of his departure, she revealed her distress. Pythagoras understood her very well.

  “Don’t worry mother, I will be all right!” he reassured her in a cheerful tone. He could not say more. His eighteen years of youth still lacked the strength of the consoling words adults excelled in.

  As if the words failed her also in her pain, she nodded. At this moment, he could swear hearing her heart murmuring, “I know that, my son…”

  His brothers hugged him with affection. The youngest grabbed him tight, his small head on his chest. Touched, Pythagoras swallowed hard. He patted his back in a paternal way and brought to him his second brother by the shoulders. He would miss them also. His last words to them, before they broke apart, came out deep from inside his soul.

  “Take good care of mother.”

  He then gestured them to run behind her as she staggered back towards town, forcing her head up.

  The moment they disappeared from his sight, Pythagoras boarded the ship, ready to sail towards the Aegean Sea. His destination was the isle of Syros, originally a Phoenician colony. Pythagoras had sent his uncle Pherecydes a message the previous month, informing him of his arrival. By now, his uncle would be expecting him with eagerness as he had urged him many times to come dwell in his abode and learn from his long years of experience and wisdom. Profoundly influenced by the Phoenician and Egyptian priests, Pherecydes became the aim of Pythagoras.

  Reaching the beautiful domain of his uncle, a week later, he felt home right away at the warm welcome he received.

  Pherecydes did not dawdle in initiating his role of tutor. Early the next day, as the sun rose, he invited Pythagoras for a walk amidst the exotic plants of the isle.

  “Let me tell you, son, about the gods of Creation. Zan, or Zeus, is the Ether. Kronos is the Time, and Chthonie is the Earth-goddess. They are all immortal,” Pherecydes advanced his own theory on the creation of the universe and its evolution; a Cosmogony that Pythagoras was about to discover.

  His eyes closed, Pherecydes continued, “Zan, the Creator, ornamented Chthonie, the Matter, with shapes, forms, proportions and images of the universe. Kronos, the Time, stood still and waited patiently until the creation occurred in him.”

  “And how did the creation happen?”

  “Ah! Good question. The creation of the universe ensued when Zan, the universal Eros, joined together all the opposites in the old matter. He formed as such a harmonious whole of existence.”

  “Oh!” Pythagoras murmured his surprise, too subtle for his uncle to hear.

  He suddenly sensed that this day, and actually his entire stay, would be a marvelous journey in the magnum opus of his uncle’s mind whose thoughts were in a way complex, yet remarkably simple; two different paths to the mysterious inquiry of the unknown.

  Pherecydes, a believer in the immortality of the psyche, introduced him also to the ideology of reincarnation. Pythagoras, was astonished when his uncle informed him that he had recognized Aithalides, the son of Hermes, to be one of the former lives of his nephew: him Pythagoras! Accordingly, Pherecydes awakened in him the memory of his past life, and stimulated his own anamnesis. He, as such, granted him the power to recollect the cognition and consciousness of his previous lives.

  The wise man strongly advised him to benefit from the caves around the domain to dwell sometime like a hermit. Caves, his uncle explained, constituted receptacles for those who sought illumination and aspired to awaken the divine within themselves.

  Weeks passed from his initiation and Pythagoras walked the path of knowledge more at ease. Day after day, he connected deeper and deeper with his inner thoughts. Bit by bit, he discovered the essential steps that would enable him to control their revolving process within his active mind. Maybe, after all, that was the preliminary phase of every student wishing to penetrate the world of Sophia.

  On a young clear night, he sagged on a wooden bank at the terrace to enjoy his lyre. He closed his eyes for a moment to absorb the profound notes that echoed in the stillness of space. Yet, nothing was ever still; Pythagoras recognized. Everything moved harmoniously to transform all forms and images in the wide space around him.

  In his transcendental state of mind, Pythagoras remembered his father and the game of his fingers on the Lyre, refined to gentleness. He improvised tones that expressed his nostalgia for his late father. The velvety softness turned melancholic. He truly missed him.

  He ignored when and how Pherecydes came to be seated at his side. His uncle did not interrupt him. He just sat and absorbed the improvisation of the notes that talked of longing and love.

  “What do you think happens when people die?” Pythagoras finally asked him through the sound of his music.

  Pherecydes seemed to understand, his eyes sympathetic in his for a while, before turning his attention to the Mediterranean Sea ahead.

  “The moment of Death in this world is the moment of Birth in another existence that we cannot perceive by our senses. Yet it does exist in its own way, and in its own reality. The soul is immortal, son.”

  Pythagoras breathed, deeply in, the statement that succeeded in appeasing his angst at the fate of his father. Yet, the concept of immortality sprouted in his mind; key-words that unleashed his imagination once again into a world of unknown probabilities.

  A world that exists in its own way and in its own reality, Pythagoras murmured in the stillness of time.

  In fact, the concept of death and rebirth set his mind free from the barriers of the flesh and into a profound state of reflection.

  * * *

  Early in the morning, after almost seventeen months, Pythagoras sailed to Miletus; a coastal city of Asia Minor to meet with Thales in his residence. A wise among the wise men of Athens, Thales stood out as a renowned figure all around the Mediterranean world. His teaching method has influenced many people, including Pherecydes.

  A poised and composed character by nature, Thales welcomed Pythagoras with a warmness that was rare to him. He willingly accepted him as a student and introduced him to his selective circle.

  The rumor spread fast that Thales had adopted a new student possessing a great light in his being. That young man dressed in purple, the Phoenician of uncommon acuteness, was therefore well received by all.

  In the few days that followed, Pythagoras never stopped shuffling ideas and thoughts on the creation of the universe as per the theory of Pherecydes. Moreover, the concept of death and its hidden secret puzzled him to a large extent. Life and death became his major concern.

  Alone with his thoughts at sunset, he found shelter in the coolness of the shadow of a big Cypress tree. His Lyre subjected to the skilful game of
his dexterous fingers. He relaxed with the intention of dismissing, for a while, the absorbing analytical world of late. At this moment, he needed to reach a serene frame of mind, and access the more complaisant and blithering place that was for him the world of music. That stance represented his method of meditation; a kind of soul therapy.

  Dusk descended on him then the evening reigned, yet he remained in his calm state of meditation. When the moon grew bigger in its ascent, he slackened down on his back to admire the galaxy. Without stopping his play, he turned his face sideway to the view of the Aegean Sea. The crystalline water of the sea reflected in beauty the mysterious lights of the heavenly bodies above.

  It was then that he heard the slow footsteps of Thales. He glanced back without stopping his music. Apparently respectful of the magical melody, Thales remained silent as he slouched under a cypress tree behind him.

  Pythagoras pivoted his attention back to the sea and to the game of glitters the stars reflected on the surface. He observed their beauty in the sky. “What could be the essence behind all of what my eyes see?” He wondered out loud.

  “Eternal Water[14],” Thales, with his clear, yet irregular, voice answered. “Eternal water is the essence of what we see of matter all around us.”

  “Water!?” Astonished, Pythagoras lifted his weight on his elbow to look backward at his tutor.

  “Yes, Pythagoras. The whole universe is a living being nourished by the exhalations of water.”

  “Oh! And what has made you reach such a bizarre concept?” he probed curiously.

  “To be truthful to you, dear Pythagoras, I have never invoked the gods, or even sought supernatural answers for my queries. My long observation of nature made me discern the importance of water and its great role in the existence of all matters and life. Hence my realization that everything is ultimately made of water.”

  Pythagoras frowned in deep thoughts. He engrossed in analyzing the probability of such a mind-blowing theory. If this is true, then there is something not quite proper… He pondered.

  His lips tightened on a particular contemplation. He shook his head in forethought, and deepened in his assessment for a while before revealing his comment to his teacher.

  “I must say that I agree with you on the prime necessity of water in nature and, eventually, in life. However, I find it hard to believe that water could be at the essence of everything living all around me,” Pythagoras argued, challenging the wise man. “There must be something more energetic, more sublime than water!”

  Apparently incited by the sharp argument of his student, Thales stood up as quickly as his old body would allow him and hastened his heavy steps to edge closer to him. Their eyes met as swords would do; Thales squared him down while Pythagoras defied his master for a more convincing answer.

  “To the ignorant, water is just water!” Thales snapped between his teeth. “But, to you Pythagoras, because you have dared probing for more, water is an allegory of the primeval spirit!”

  Pythagoras widened his eyes.

  Thales diverted his to the darkness of the sea to continue his explanation with an amazing calmness, “Everything that exists and pulsates around you is in fact of psychic nature. There is a soul to the world; a Universal Soul!”

  Pythagoras leaped to his feet speechless, yet he faced but the back of his Master disappearing in the shadows of the trees.

  He turned slowly towards the sea then closed his eyes to allow his spirit to immerse in the sound of the waves. He smiled as he finally realized the mode of thinking of Thales.

  In fact, the wise man was probably one of the very few who had dared to declare a one-essence for the whole existence; a unity of the phenomenal world!

  During the few months that passed, Thales continued creating great impressions in the mind of his student. He taught him how to be moderate and in control of his thoughts and feelings, the way he helped him in replacing superstition with reason and logic. Thales, in fact, held the merits of bringing into the Greek world both Mathematics and Astronomy; sciences he had acquired in Egypt and the East.

  He, Pythagoras, became very interested in both sciences; Astronomy being the evolved derivation of the most ancient science of Astrology.

  In Miletus, he frequented classes which lectures could be of interest to his quest of knowledge. At the invitation of his Master, he attended once a discourse on Geometry, Astrology, and Cosmology given by Anaximander, one of the pupils of Thales. As per Anaximander, Earth was situated in the middle of the world. Very few of his ideas held much of significance to Pythagoras. Yet, he remained there for some time out of social respect, and maybe from some bit of curiosity on his side.

  “In truth, there is no God who created the Universe,” Anaximander stated boldly that day. “I believe in the Infinite, the Unlimited and the Undetermined as the only real God. The whole Universe was never created and will never be destroyed. It is dead and blind!”

  And that was the end of it for Pythagoras! He never attended a lecture again. He opted instead to focus on the teachings of Thales, whose depth and intelligence rooted in the True Science and thus, were of more interest to him. Thales deemed the Universe to be animated. In parallel, Pythagoras considered that the concept of a Universe being dynamic was more realistic and rational.

  * * *

  Five years went by with Pythagoras pursuing his assiduous initiation under the dedication of Pherecydes and Thales. However, his thirst for more knowledge would not find its satisfaction. He felt that many of his questions remained imminent.

  Time had come for him to leave.

  A couple of days before his departure, on a sunny midday, he convened with Thales in the open yard of their residence. There, seated on a wooden bench, the birds twittering around, they held their last private meeting. Flowers of all kinds and scents enhanced the beauty of the Cypress and olive trees that surrounded the domain.

  Pythagoras sighed deeply at realizing that he would miss this favorite spot of his. He glanced at his Master and asked, “What is, in your opinion, the most difficult thing in life?”

  Thales answered without hesitation, “To know thyself!”

  Pythagoras nodded, pensive for a while, then put forward, “What is the wisest thing then?”

  “Time, son,” came the calm reply of the Master.

  “Time…” Pythagoras murmured.

  “Right!” Thales confirmed along with a nod of his head. “See, Time in truth, discovers everything, and the wisest feats a man could do in his life is to control it.”

  “I see,” Pythagoras muttered, admiring the depth of his wisdom. “It makes sense, really. And, in your opinion, what could be the fastest thing in life?”

  “It is the Spirit, for it runs in all directions. It is everywhere!”

  There was silence for few seconds.

  A time to meditate…

  And the most pertinent question ensued a moment later, “What is God? Who is God?”

  “God, my son, is what has no beginning and no end; the Most Ancient,” the voice of his Master, as his answer, came composed and confident.

  Silence prevailed again. Pythagoras waited for one of the new students at the house of Thales to serve their tea and leave before resuming his questions.

  “I was wondering Master, what could be the most beautiful thing in your point of view.”

  “The world, for sure!”

  “The world? Why is that?” Pythagoras stared at him in puzzlement. He did not expect such an answer at all!

  “The world, my son, the world! For it is the work of God!”

  “I see…,” Pythagoras muttered as he pondered over the statement for a while then asked, “How about the biggest thing?”

  “Certainly the Space for it contains the whole.”

  Impressed, he stared at the wise man who glimpsed at him with a witty look. They both shared a smile of complicity as if Thales understood what the eyes of his student conveyed of high regard.

  “Go ahead, continue!”r />
  “They are a few more,” he warned him with a grin.

  “I can handle them,” Thales snapped in good humor.

  “I bet you can!” Pythagoras replied and burst out laughing, joined instantly by his Master.

  “Okay, then. Here goes the next: What is the most powerful thing in this world?”

  “It is the will of necessity, because it comes always at the beginning of everything desired.”

  “Everything desired! What do you mean by that?” Pythagoras frowned, totally confused.

  “There is nothing in the world that is not for man to look at, to enjoy, to feel, to grasp… everything you see is desired, whether consciously or unconsciously, because everything in the world is beautiful for it is the work of God.” Thales explained with joy in his mind, his eyes brightened. “Only by the power of will, of necessity to have what your heart and spirit desire, that you achieve what you want.”

  Silence reigned once more, and once again, Pythagoras plunged in deep thoughts. He could not just stop now, his curiosity grew bigger and bigger at the outstanding words of his Master.

  “What is death?”

  “Death is not any different from life, Pythagoras. They are the same.”

  Thales waited apparently for the next question but Pythagoras needed to mull over such concept of similarity.

  “Any more questions?” The Master tempted him.

  “Yes, actually, just a couple more. How can people reach a point in which they can live a life of justice and respect?”

  “Hmmm…, well… Let’s say this utopia could only be attained when we all stop doing what we blame others for!”

  Pythagoras waited for him to sip his tea and advanced his next question. “What is the easiest thing?”

  Thales chuckled then and stood up. He gazed at him with a witty sparkle in his eyes. “The easiest thing, young man, is to give advice to others! And I advise you to return to Phoenicia and then head to Egypt. There, you will certainly learn more about the deepest meanings of life.”