In her autobiography Reason
for Hope: A Spiritual Journey, Jane Goodall writes:
“Many years ago, in the spring of 1974, I visited the
cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris. There were not many people around, and it was
quiet and still inside. I gazed in silent awe at the great Rose Window, glowing
in the morning sun. All at once the cathedral was filled with a huge volume of
sound: an organ playing magnificently for a wedding taking place in a distant
corner. Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D Minor. I had always loved the opening
theme; but in the cathedral, filling the entire vastness, it seemed to enter
and possess my whole self. It was as though the music itself was alive.
“That moment, a suddenly captured moment of eternity, was
perhaps the closest I have ever come to experiencing ecstasy, the ecstasy of
the mystic. How could I believe it was the chance gyrations of bits of primeval
dust that led up to that moment in time—the cathedral soaring to the sky; the
collective inspiration and faith of those who caused it to be built; the advent
of Bach himself; the brain, his brain, that translated truth into music; and
the mind that could, as mine did then, comprehend the whole inexorable
progression of evolution? Since I cannot believe that this was the result of
chance, I have to admit anti-chance. And so, I must believe in a guiding power
in the universe—in other worlds, I must believe in God.” [pages xiii-xiv]
Through the years I have encountered people and been
involved in events that have had huge impact, knocked off rough corners, lifted
me to the heights of joy, plunged me into the depth of sorrow and anguish,
taught me to laugh, especially at myself—in other words, my life experiences
and the people with whom I shared them have been my teachers. At time I have
felt like a helpless bit of flotsam, at one moment stranded in a placed
backwater that knew not, cared not, that I was there, then swept out to be
hurled about in an unfeeling sea. At other times I felt I was being sucked
under by strong, unknowing currents toward annihilation. Yet somehow, looking
back through my life, with its downs and its ups, its despairs and its joys, I
believe that I was following some overall plan. To be sure there were
many times when I strayed from the course, but I was never truly lost. It seems to
me now that the flotsam speck was being gently nudged or fiercely blown along a
very specific route by an unseen, intangible Wind. The flotsam speck that
was—that is—me.” [2-3]
After World War II Jane began to attend courses on the
teachings of Theosophy. She writes: “I was especially drawn to the concepts of
karma and reincarnation, because I was still trying very hard to make sense of
the horrors of the war. If karma was operating, Hitler and the Nazis would pay
for their crimes in some future life, while those who were killed in battle or
tortured in the death camps may have been paying for former transgressions.
They would then either be reborn to a better life or to some kind of heaven or
paradise. I had never been able to believe that God would give us poor frail
humans only one chance at making it—that we would be assigned to some
kind of hell because we failed during one experience of mortal life.”
[32]
Jane’s ecstatic experience in Notre Dame occurred in 1974,
after she had divorced her first husband and the father of her only child. Later
in her autobiography she asks: “Was there a guiding force in the universe, a
creator of matter and thus of life itself? Was there a purpose to life on
planet earth? And if so, what role were we human supposed to play in the
overall picture? In particular, what was my role to be.”
She responds to these questions in her next paragraph. “There
are really only two ways, it seems to me, in which we can think about our
existence here on earth. We either agree with Macbeth that life is nothing more
than a ‘tale told by an idiot,’ a purposeless emergence of life-forms including
the clever, greedy, selfish, and unfortunately destructive species that we call
Homo sapiens—the ‘evolutionary goof.’ Or we believe that, as Pierre
Teilhard de Chardin put it, ‘There is something afoot in the universe,
something that looks like gestation and birth.’ In other words, a plan and a
purpose to it all.
“As I thought about these ultimate questions during the
trying time of my divorce, I realized that my experience in the forest, my
understanding of the chimpanzees, had given me a new perspective. I personally
was utterly convinced that there was a great spiritual power that we call God,
Allah, or Brahma, although I knew, equally certainly, that my finite mind could
never comprehend its form or nature.” [92-95]
Excerpts from Jane Goodall, Reason for Hope: A Spiritual Journey, (1999, Warner Books), selected by Robert Traer.
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