"Demian (Guomai Classics)" Reading Notes

"Demian (Guomai Classics)" Reading Notes#

Author: Hermann Hesse
Reading Duration: 2 hours

These are the notes and excerpts I recorded while reading "Demian (Guomai Classics)" on WeChat Reading.

Dedication#

What I desire is simply to try to live according to my spontaneous nature. Why is it so difficult?

Preface#

I do not consider myself a sage. I was a seeker, and I am still a seeker. But I no longer seek in the stars and in books; rather, I have begun to learn to listen to the teachings that roar in my blood. My story is not pleasant. It is not sweet and harmonious like a fictional story. It has the taste of absurdity and confusion, the taste of madness and dreams. Its flavor is like that of the lives of those who no longer wish to deceive themselves.

Cain#

But these people are indeed so. Those with courage and personality always seem frightening to others. Such fearless and frightening individuals walk around, making people extremely uncomfortable. Thus, people give such individuals nicknames and concoct fables. To take revenge on them, and to slightly cover up the fear they reveal—do you understand?

The Robber#

We can accurately express the thoughts and feelings of others by observing them properly. Most of the time, we can even predict their next actions. It is simple; it is just that people do not know. Of course, this requires practice.

Whether it is an animal or a person, as long as he puts all his effort into one thing, he can achieve his goal. That's all. The meaning of your question is roughly like this. As long as you accurately examine someone, you will understand him better than he understands himself.

In fact, I only used a simple method; I confidently stared at him. Who can withstand such a gaze? It makes people uneasy. If you also want to conquer someone, you can stare at him when he is completely unguarded; if he remains very calm, then give up your plan! Because this person, you will never conquer him. Never! But this situation is rare. I have only failed with one person.

But I believe we should worship everything. Everything is sacred. We should worship the whole world, not just this grand part that has been deliberately divided! We need the worship of God, and we need the worship of the devil. I think that is correct. Or, one should create a God who is also a devil. In front of him, one need not feel ashamed of the things that arise naturally in the world.

I saw my friend sitting upright, as usual, with an elegant posture. But he seemed different from usual, exuding an unfamiliar aura. I thought he had his eyes closed, but what I saw was that he was open. His eyes were empty, staring blankly inward, as if looking into the distant beyond. He sat motionless, as if he had stopped breathing. His mouth was like a wooden carving or a stone sculpture. His colorless, pale face was like marble. Only the brown head showed a hint of life. His hands rested on the desk, silent like a still life, like stones, indifferent like fruit. But it was not weak; rather, it was like a solid and well-made shell, wrapping a hidden powerful life. I couldn't help but shudder. He is dead! The thought almost burst from my throat. But I knew he was not dead. I stared at his face as if staring at a pale statue. I felt: this is Demian! The one who usually walks beside me and talks to me is only half of Demian. He occasionally plays a role to help others and joins us. And this is the true Demian. Ruthless, ancient, like a beast, like a rock, beautiful and cruel, silent yet filled with an impenetrable, unheard vitality. Surrounding him is a tranquil void, the sky and the stars, the solitude of death! Now, he has completely entered himself. I trembled, feeling that I had never been so lonely. I could not become a part of him, could not reach him. He was so far from me, as if he had gone to the ends of the earth.

We can accurately express the thoughts and feelings of others by observing them properly. Most of the time, we can even predict their next actions. It is simple; it is just that people do not know. Of course, this requires practice.

Whether it is an animal or a person, as long as he puts all his effort into one thing, he can achieve his goal. That's all. The meaning of your question is roughly like this. As long as you accurately examine someone, you will understand him better than he understands himself.

In fact, I only used a simple method; I confidently stared at him. Who can withstand such a gaze? It makes people uneasy. If you also want to conquer someone, you can stare at him when he is completely unguarded; if he remains very calm, then give up your plan! Because this person, you will never conquer him. Never! But this situation is rare. I have only failed with one person.

But I believe we should worship everything. Everything is sacred. We should worship the whole world, not just this grand part that has been deliberately divided! We need the worship of God, and we need the worship of the devil. I think that is correct. Or, one should create a God who is also a devil. In front of him, one need not feel ashamed of the things that arise naturally in the world.

I saw my friend sitting upright, as usual, with an elegant posture. But he seemed different from usual, exuding an unfamiliar aura. I thought he had his eyes closed, but what I saw was that he was open. His eyes were empty, staring blankly inward, as if looking into the distant beyond. He sat motionless, as if he had stopped breathing. His mouth was like a wooden carving or a stone sculpture. His colorless, pale face was like marble. Only the brown head showed a hint of life. His hands rested on the desk, silent like a still life, like stones, indifferent like fruit. But it was not weak; rather, it was like a solid and well-made shell, wrapping a hidden powerful life. I couldn't help but shudder. He is dead! The thought almost burst from my throat. But I knew he was not dead. I stared at his face as if staring at a pale statue. I felt: this is Demian! The one who usually walks beside me and talks to me is only half of Demian. He occasionally plays a role to help others and joins us. And this is the true Demian. Ruthless, ancient, like a beast, like a rock, beautiful and cruel, silent yet filled with an impenetrable, unheard vitality. Surrounding him is a tranquil void, the sky and the stars, the solitude of death! Now, he has completely entered himself. I trembled, feeling that I had never been so lonely. I could not become a part of him, could not reach him. He was so far from me, as if he had gone to the ends of the earth.

Beatrice#

On the surface, I seem cynical, but in reality, I often secretly yield to sadness and despair. I live on the knowledge I accumulated in my hometown, and the new class's backwardness has made me develop a habit of looking down on my peers. They are just mischievous children in my eyes.

Fate and character are two names for the same concept.

You are related to me, but not you, rather your image. You are a part of my fate.

But I have no interest in explaining my transformation to him or anyone else. It just happens to align with the expectations of my parents and teachers. This coincidence has not brought me closer to anyone; it has made me more lonely. It has led me to Demian, to a distant fate. I am trapped in it, unaware. Although Beatrice is the catalyst for this transformation, for a while, I lived in a world of illusion with my painting, thinking of Demian, and even in my eyes and heart, Beatrice has completely disappeared. I cannot talk to anyone about my dreams, my expectations, and my inner transformation. Even if I have this desire, I cannot do it.

On the surface, I seem cynical, but in reality, I often secretly yield to sadness and despair. I live on the knowledge I accumulated in my hometown, and the new class's backwardness has made me develop a habit of looking down on my peers. They are just mischievous children in my eyes.

Fate and character are two names for the same concept.

You are related to me, but not you, rather your image. You are a part of my fate.

But I have no interest in explaining my transformation to him or anyone else. It just happens to align with the expectations of my parents and teachers. This coincidence has not brought me closer to anyone; it has made me more lonely. It has led me to Demian, to a distant fate. I am trapped in it, unaware. Although Beatrice is the catalyst for this transformation, for a while, I lived in a world of illusion with my painting, thinking of Demian, and even in my eyes and heart, Beatrice has completely disappeared. I cannot talk to anyone about my dreams, my expectations, and my inner transformation. Even if I have this desire, I cannot do it.

The Bird Struggles to Hatch#

The bird struggles to hatch. The egg is the world. Whoever wants to be born must destroy the world. The bird flies towards God. God is called Abraxas.

Ecstasy and fear, man and woman merge into one, the most sacred and the most vile intertwine, heavy guilt trembles in gentle innocence—this is my dream of love. This is Abraxas. Love is no longer the primal, beastly dark desire that once terrified me, nor is it the pious spiritual worship like my adoration for the image of Beatrice. Love encompasses both. Love is more. Love is angel and devil, man and woman, human and beast, the noble good and the vile evil. I am destined to live in this love. My fate is to taste this love. I long for it, fear it, but it exists eternally and hovers above me.

What I fervently desire is simply to live once, to throw that spontaneous self into the world, to connect with it or to struggle against it. Sometimes, I run through the streets at midnight, restless, returning home only at midnight. Sometimes I think, now, at this moment, I will surely meet my lover, she is just around the corner on the next street, calling me from the window. Sometimes, all this torments me to the point where I cannot bear it, and I even prepare to end my life.

The power that drives you to fly is a great human wealth that everyone possesses. It is a feeling closely connected to the root of all forces. But soon, this feeling becomes terrifying, plunging one into danger! For this reason, most people will give up flying and take the path of complacency. But you did not. You continue to fly. You are a talented young man. Look! In your flight, you have made wonderful discoveries; you can master everything. Beyond the immense force that drives you to fly, you have gained your own power. Though it is small and delicate, it is a tool, a rudder! Remarkable. Without it, one would uncontrollably rush out into the sky like a madman. But you possess profound insight, surpassing those who are complacent. They have no keys, no rudders, and can only fall into the abyss. But you, Sinclair, you have accomplished something! And how to do it, do you not know at all? You have used a new tool, a breathing regulator. You should realize that deep in your heart, there is little 'subjective.' The 'subjective' in the heart cannot invent the regulator! It is not innovation, just borrowing! It has existed for thousands of years. It is the fish's balance organ, the swim bladder. In fact, today there are still a few rare and ancient fish whose swim bladders also function as lungs, breathing air when necessary. Your lungs, too, have exercised the function of the swim bladder in your dreams!

The bird struggles to hatch. The egg is the world. Whoever wants to be born must destroy the world. The bird flies towards God. God is called Abraxas.

Ecstasy and fear, man and woman merge into one, the most sacred and the most vile intertwine, heavy guilt trembles in gentle innocence—this is my dream of love. This is Abraxas. Love is no longer the primal, beastly dark desire that once terrified me, nor is it the pious spiritual worship like my adoration for the image of Beatrice. Love encompasses both. Love is more. Love is angel and devil, man and woman, human and beast, the noble good and the vile evil. I am destined to live in this love. My fate is to taste this love. I long for it, fear it, but it exists eternally and hovers above me.

What I fervently desire is simply to live once, to throw that spontaneous self into the world, to connect with it or to struggle against it. Sometimes, I run through the streets at midnight, restless, returning home only at midnight. Sometimes I think, now, at this moment, I will surely meet my lover, she is just around the corner on the next street, calling me from the window. Sometimes, all this torments me to the point where I cannot bear it, and I even prepare to end my life.

The power that drives you to fly is a great human wealth that everyone possesses. It is a feeling closely connected to the root of all forces. But soon, this feeling becomes terrifying, plunging one into danger! For this reason, most people will give up flying and take the path of complacency. But you did not. You continue to fly. You are a talented young man. Look! In your flight, you have made wonderful discoveries; you can master everything. Beyond the immense force that drives you to fly, you have gained your own power. Though it is small and delicate, it is a tool, a rudder! Remarkable. Without it, one would uncontrollably rush out into the sky like a madman. But you possess profound insight, surpassing those who are complacent. They have no keys, no rudders, and can only fall into the abyss. But you, Sinclair, you have accomplished something! And how to do it, do you not know at all? You have used a new tool, a breathing regulator. You should realize that deep in your heart, there is little 'subjective.' The 'subjective' in the heart cannot invent the regulator! It is not innovation, just borrowing! It has existed for thousands of years. It is the fish's balance organ, the swim bladder. In fact, today there are still a few rare and ancient fish whose swim bladders also function as lungs, breathing air when necessary. Your lungs, too, have exercised the function of the swim bladder in your dreams!

Jacob Wrestling with the Angel#

The priest does not educate people, but rather defends and transmits an emotion that lives among the believers of the same faith. In this emotion, we create God.

If we hate someone, we are merely using his image to hate certain things about ourselves. Those things that are not within us never anger us.

"What we see," Pistorius said softly, "is precisely the inner things of ourselves. Nothing is more real than the inner things. Most people do not live authentically. Because they regard the external world as real, they ignore their own internal world. They can also be happy. But once a person gains another kind of knowledge, he will not choose to walk the path of complacency. Sinclair, the path of complacency is easy, but our path is difficult—but we are willing to walk it."

However, for those whom we love and revere not out of habit, but out of our own intention—those we genuinely want to follow and befriend—the truly bitter and difficult moment is when we suddenly realize that the torrent surging in our hearts has taken us away from the land we love. At this moment, every thought of betraying friends and teachers is like a poisoned needle, stabbing at our hearts; every blow of resistance strikes our faces. At this moment, those who consider themselves good will also be branded with names like "disloyal" and "ungrateful," like a shameful title and mark. Thus, the wounded heart fearfully retreats to the valley of childhood virtues of love, rather than believing that a severance must be made, that the ties must be cut.

A brand new image rises majestically and sacredly in my heart. I have foreseen it thousands of times, even expressed it, but at this moment, I truly experience it. I am naturally thrown into the unknown creation, perhaps towards rebirth, perhaps into the void. This creation sprouts from the ancient abyss; I perceive it exists in my inner will and completely shape it into my will. This is my mission. My only mission! I have tasted solitude, and I have foreseen a deeper solitude on the way, an inescapable solitude.

The great and correct way is to completely submit to the arrangements of fate, to be desireless. But I cannot do this. This is the only thing I cannot do. Perhaps one day you will be able to do it. Young man, it is very difficult to achieve this; it is the only true difficulty among all difficulties. I often dream that I can do it, but I cannot, because I fear: I cannot face the world completely naked and alone. I am a weak and pitiful dog, needing warmth and food, often needing the company of my kind. Whoever truly follows fate will no longer have companions; he will be utterly alone, in a cold world. Just like Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane. You know, some martyrs willingly allow themselves to be nailed to the cross, but they are not heroes, nor do they find liberation. They also long for love and home; they have role models and ideals. Those who obey fate will no longer have role models and ideals, no love, and will not find comfort! But this is the path one should take. People like you and me are destined to be lonely. But we have each other, with secret ways as compensation, to carve new paths, to resist, to pursue the extraordinary. However, to walk the path of fate, one must give up even these, and will not become revolutionaries, role models, and martyrs. Walking the path of fate is beyond imagination—

The priest does not educate people, but rather defends and transmits an emotion that lives among the believers of the same faith. In this emotion, we create God.

If we hate someone, we are merely using his image to hate certain things about ourselves. Those things that are not within us never anger us.

"What we see," Pistorius said softly, "is precisely the inner things of ourselves. Nothing is more real than the inner things. Most people do not live authentically. Because they regard the external world as real, they ignore their own internal world. They can also be happy. But once a person gains another kind of knowledge, he will not choose to walk the path of complacency. Sinclair, the path of complacency is easy, but our path is difficult—but we are willing to walk it."

However, for those whom we love and revere not out of habit, but out of our own intention—those we genuinely want to follow and befriend—the truly bitter and difficult moment is when we suddenly realize that the torrent surging in our hearts has taken us away from the land we love. At this moment, every thought of betraying friends and teachers is like a poisoned needle, stabbing at our hearts; every blow of resistance strikes our faces. At this moment, those who consider themselves good will also be branded with names like "disloyal" and "ungrateful," like a shameful title and mark. Thus, the wounded heart fearfully retreats to the valley of childhood virtues of love, rather than believing that a severance must be made, that the ties must be cut.

A brand new image rises majestically and sacredly in my heart. I have foreseen it thousands of times, even expressed it, but at this moment, I truly experience it. I am naturally thrown into the unknown creation, perhaps towards rebirth, perhaps into the void. This creation sprouts from the ancient abyss; I perceive it exists in my inner will and completely shape it into my will. This is my mission. My only mission! I have tasted solitude, and I have foreseen a deeper solitude on the way, an inescapable solitude.

The great and correct way is to completely submit to the arrangements of fate, to be desireless. But I cannot do this. This is the only thing I cannot do. Perhaps one day you will be able to do it. Young man, it is very difficult to achieve this; it is the only true difficulty among all difficulties. I often dream that I can do it, but I cannot, because I fear: I cannot face the world completely naked and alone. I am a weak and pitiful dog, needing warmth and food, often needing the company of my kind. Whoever truly follows fate will no longer have companions; he will be utterly alone, in a cold world. Just like Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane. You know, some martyrs willingly allow themselves to be nailed to the cross, but they are not heroes, nor do they find liberation. They also long for love and home; they have role models and ideals. Those who obey fate will no longer have role models and ideals, no love, and will not find comfort! But this is the path one should take. People like you and me are destined to be lonely. But we have each other, with secret ways as compensation, to carve new paths, to resist, to pursue the extraordinary. However, to walk the path of fate, one must give up even these, and will not become revolutionaries, role models, and martyrs. Walking the path of fate is beyond imagination—

Lady Eve#

I live with Nietzsche, feeling the loneliness of his soul, speculating on the fate that constantly drives him, suffering with him, and feeling blessed to have had someone like him who resolutely walked his own path.

"One can never return home," she said kindly, "but when people walk hand in hand on a path of like-mindedness, the whole world seems temporarily like home."

We, those marked, may be seen by the world as outcasts, madmen, or dangerous elements. But we are the awakened ones, or those who are awakening. Our pursuit is to become eternal awakeners. The pursuits and searches of others lie in their opinions, ideals, and duties, in whether their lives and happiness can continually align with the masses. This is also a pursuit, and it has power and value. But we believe that we, the marked ones, must showcase a new, unique, future will of natural intent. The masses live within established will. For them, humanity—the humanity they love just as much as we do—is perfect and needs to be preserved and protected. For us, humanity is a distant future, and we are still groping along the way. The visage of humanity is unknown. The laws of humanity leave no trace.

But whether the situation progresses smoothly or not is not important. What matters is that the true dilemma of the soul—the long-deceived and numbed dilemma—can be exposed. That will be our time. People will need us, not to be leaders or new lawmakers—we will not live to see the establishment of new laws—but as followers, as those who heed the call of fate. You see, when ideals are threatened, anyone can perform astonishing acts. But when a new ideal, a brand new movement that may be dangerous or frightening knocks at the door, everyone disappears. Those few steadfast companions are us. We are marked for this purpose, just like Cain's mark, to evoke fear and hatred, to drive humanity from the narrow countryside into the dangerous wilderness. All who influence the course of humanity are committed to this because they are willing to heed the call of fate. Moses and Buddha, Napoleon and Bismarck, all did so. As for which tide they serve, which destiny drives them, it is not their personal choice.

"Love needs no prayer," she said, "nor does love need to be demanded. Love is the steadfast power of the heart. With this power, one does not need to attract love; love will come. Sinclair, your love attracts me. If your love can actively attract me, I will come. I do not want to give gifts; I want to be conquered."

He felt that love had burned everything in his heart; love became increasingly powerful and enchanting, to the point where the beautiful woman could not resist his love and walked towards him. He spread his arms to catch her. But when the woman stood before him, she had completely changed. He felt terrified, realizing that what he was pulling towards himself was his entire lost world. She stood before him, surrendering herself to him. The sky, the forest, and the stream all radiated new colors, vividly and sacredly rushing towards him, belonging to him, speaking his language. He gained not just a woman; his heart gained the entire world. Every star in the sky shone in his heart, and the shining joy permeated his soul—he had loved and found himself. But most people's love is only for losing oneself.

I live with Nietzsche, feeling the loneliness of his soul, speculating on the fate that constantly drives him, suffering with him, and feeling blessed to have had someone like him who resolutely walked his own path.

"One can never return home," she said kindly, "but when people walk hand in hand on a path of like-mindedness, the whole world seems temporarily like home."

We, those marked, may be seen by the world as outcasts, madmen, or dangerous elements. But we are the awakened ones, or those who are awakening. Our pursuit is to become eternal awakeners. The pursuits and searches of others lie in their opinions, ideals, and duties, in whether their lives and happiness can continually align with the masses. This is also a pursuit, and it has power and value. But we believe that we, the marked ones, must showcase a new, unique, future will of natural intent. The masses live within established will. For them, humanity—the humanity they love just as much as we do—is perfect and needs to be preserved and protected. For us, humanity is a distant future, and we are still groping along the way. The visage of humanity is unknown. The laws of humanity leave no trace.

But whether the situation progresses smoothly or not is not important. What matters is that the true dilemma of the soul—the long-deceived and numbed dilemma—can be exposed. That will be our time. People will need us, not to be leaders or new lawmakers—we will not live to see the establishment of new laws—but as followers, as those who heed the call of fate. You see, when ideals are threatened, anyone can perform astonishing acts. But when a new ideal, a brand new movement that may be dangerous or frightening knocks at the door, everyone disappears. Those few steadfast companions are us. We are marked for this purpose, just like Cain's mark, to evoke fear and hatred, to drive humanity from the narrow countryside into the dangerous wilderness. All who influence the course of humanity are committed to this because they are willing to heed the call of fate. Moses and Buddha, Napoleon and Bismarck, all did so. As for which tide they serve, which destiny drives them, it is not their personal choice.

"Love needs no prayer," she said, "nor does love need to be demanded. Love is the steadfast power of the heart. With this power, one does not need to attract love; love will come. Sinclair, your love attracts me. If your love can actively attract me, I will come. I do not want to give gifts; I want to be conquered."

He felt that love had burned everything in his heart; love became increasingly powerful and enchanting, to the point where the beautiful woman could not resist his love and walked towards him. He spread his arms to catch her. But when the woman stood before him, she had completely changed. He felt terrified, realizing that what he was pulling towards himself was his entire lost world. She stood before him, surrendering herself to him. The sky, the forest, and the stream all radiated new colors, vividly and sacredly rushing towards him, belonging to him, speaking his language. He gained not just a woman; his heart gained the entire world. Every star in the sky shone in his heart, and the shining joy permeated his soul—he had loved and found himself. But most people's love is only for losing oneself.

Postscript#

Accompanying the difficult growth of a ten-year-old child, retempted by a forbidden, dark, evil, universally opposing world, suffering from nightmares and anxiety, fearfully anticipating the destruction of the surrounding world, while in the inevitable fate, in the development of traditional beliefs, the liberation of thought, and personal ethics, contemplating the unconscious and the conscious, good and evil, man and woman, God and the devil, integrating the self—maturing in evil, gaining liberation and inner transcendence from the power of evil, and nurturing new life in love.

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