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First Part
The Son of the Brahmin
SIDDHARTHA, the handsome son of the Brahmin, the young falcon, grew up together with his friend Govinda, the Brahmin's son, in the shadow of the house, in the sun of the riverbank near the boats, in the shadow of the sala forest, and in the shadow of the fig trees. The sun tanned his fair shoulders on the riverbank while he bathed, during the holy cleansing, at the holy sacrifices. Shadows flowed into his black eyes in the mango grove, during the boyish games, when his mother sang, at the holy sacrifices, during the teaching of his father the scholar, and when speaking with the wise ones. For a long time Siddhartha had taken part in the wise ones' discussions; he had practiced word-wrestling with Govinda, had practiced the art of contemplation and the duty of meditation with Govinda. He already understood how to speak the "Om" silently, that word of words, how to speak it silently in his inner being as he inhaled, how to pronounce it silently out of himself as he exhaled, how to do so with his whole soul while his forehead was enveloped by the radiance of the clear-thinking mind. He already understood how to recognize Atman within this inner essence of his that was indestructible and one with the universe.
Joy sprang up in his father's heart over the son who was so apt to learn and so thirsty after knowledge; he saw growing within him a great sage and priest, a prince among the Brahmins.
Delight welled up in his mother's heart when she saw him taking long strides, saw him sitting down and standing up: Siddhartha the strong and handsome, who strode upon lean legs and who greeted her with impeccable manners.
All the young daughters of the Brahmins felt love stirring within their hearts when Siddhartha walked through the side-streets of the city with a beaming face, a lean physique, and a royal look in his eyes.
Govinda, the Brahmin's son, however, loved him more than all of these. He loved the eye of Siddhartha and his sweet voice, his gait and the perfection of his movements; he loved everything that Siddhartha did and said, and above all he loved Siddhartha's mind, his sublime and fiery thoughts, his blazing will, and Siddhartha's high calling. Govinda knew that this would be no ordinary Brahmin, no lazy official presiding over the sacrifices, no money-grubbing merchant hawking magic trinkets, no vain and vacuous speaker, no wicked and lying priest, and also not a good-hearted but dim-witted sheep in the plebian herds. Govinda didn't want to be such a person either, didn't want to be a Brahmin like all the ten thousand other Brahmins. He wanted to follow Siddhartha, who was beloved and majestic. When Siddhartha first became a god, when he entered into the radiance, then Govinda wanted to follow him as his friend, his escort, his servant, his spear-carrier, and his shadow.
In this manner, everyone loved Siddhartha. He brought everyone joy; he pleased everyone.
However, Siddhartha didn't bring himself joy; he didn't please himself. He strolled on the rosy paths of the fig gardens, sat in the blue shadows of the grove of meditation, washed his limbs daily in baths of atonement, and sacrificed in the deep shadows of the mango forest. Everyone loved him; he was joyous to them, and yet he carried no joy in his own heart. Dreams and restless thoughts came flowing to him out of the river's water, twinkled to him from the stars of the night, melted out of the sunbeams. Dreams and anxiety came billowing out of the sacrificial smoke, whispering from the verses of the Rig-Veda, or trickling out of the old Brahmin's teachings.
Siddhartha had started to cultivate the seed of discontent within himself. He had started to feel as if his father's love, his mother's love, and the love of his friend Govinda wouldn't make him happy forever, wouldn't bring him peace, satisfy him, and be sufficient for all time. He had started to suspect that his illustrious father, his other teachers, and the wise Brahmins had shared the majority and the best of their wisdom with him, that they had already poured their all into his ready vessel without filling the vessel: the mind wasn't satisfied, the soul wasn't quiet, the heart wasn't stilled. The purifications were nice, but they were just water, and didn't wash away sins; they didn't cure the mental thirst or allay his heart's anxiety. Sacrifices and invocations to the gods were superb—but were they sufficient? Did the sacrifices bring happiness? And what about all those gods? Was Prajapati really the one who had created the world? Wasn't it Atman, He who was the Only One, the All-One? Weren't the gods creatures, created just as you and I were: subject to time and transitory? Was it even good, was it right, did it make sense or was it important to sacrifice to the gods? To whom else would one sacrifice, to whom else should one bring worship other than Him, the Only, the Atman? And where could Atman be found, where did he live, where did his eternal heart beat—where else other than in the self, in one's inner being, in the indestructible part of all persons that they carried within themselves? But where was this self, where was this inner being, this most paramount thing? It was not made of flesh or the legs that carried it, it wasn't just the thoughts or the awareness—or so taught the wisest men. Where then was it? One had to penetrate that far into the self, into myself, into the Atman—was there some other way, however, a search which still yielded worthwhile results? Ah, but nobody pointed to this way, nobody knew it: not father, not the teachers and wise ones, not the holy chants sung during sacrifices! They knew everything, those Brahmins and their holy books. They knew everything, they had concerned themselves with everything and with more than everything: the creation of the world, the origins of language, of foods, of inhalation and exhalation, the institution of the senses, the deeds of the gods—they knew an inordinate amount, and yet was it worthwhile to know everything like this when one didn't know the one and only thing that was most important—that which alone was important?
To be sure, many verses from the holy books—especially the Upanishads of the Sama-Veda—spoke about these innermost and most important things—majestic verses. "Your soul is the whole world" was written there; it was also written that the person who slept in the deepest slumber went within to his or her innermost place and lived in Atman. Wonderful wisdom stood within these verses, all the wisdom of the wisest was gathered there in the magical words, pure like the honey gathered by the bees. No, the behemoth of knowledge that innumerable generations of wise Brahmins had gathered and protected there wasn't to be lightly esteemed. But where were the Brahmins, where were the priests, the wise ones and the penitents—those who were successful not only in knowing this deepest wisdom but also in living it? Where were the elders who could merge this Atman of their dreams with the waking being, to bring it fully into their lives and into their words and deeds? Siddhartha knew many venerable Brahmins—not the least of whom was his father, who was pure, scholarly, and highly esteemed. His father was admirable: his habits were quiet and elegant, his life pure, his words wise, and the thoughts that inhabited his brow were both fine and noble—but did he who possessed so much wisdom live a blessed life? Did he have joy; wasn't he also a mere seeker, one who had thirst? Did not he, who had thirst, have to receive a holy quenching of this thirst by drinking time and time again at the sacrifices, at the books, at the conversations of the Brahmins? Why did he, who was irreproachable, have to wash out his sins every day, have to expend great effort once more to attain purification each and every day. Wasn't Atman in him; didn't the ancient spring flow in his heart? The ancient spring must be found in one's own self; one must own it! Everything else was just a search, a detour; it was to go astray.
Thus went Siddhartha's thoughts; this was his thirst, his sorrow.
He often spoke to himself out of the Chandogya-Upanishad: "Verily, the name of the Brahman is Satyam— in truth, one who knows this enters daily into the heavenly world." This heavenly world often appeared close, but he had never totally reached it; never had he quenched the ultimate thirst. Furthermore, among all the wise ones whom he knew whose teaching he had savored—even the wisest—among them all there were none who had totally reached the heavenly world, who had completely quenched the eternal thirst.
"Govinda," said Siddhartha to his friend, "Govinda, beloved, come with me among the Banyan trees, and we will practice meditating."
They went to the Banyan trees and sat down: here Siddhartha, and Govinda twenty paces further. When Siddhartha sat down, ready to speak the Om, he murmured and repeated the verse:
When the usual time for practicing meditation had passed, Govinda rose up. The twilight had come, and it was time to perform the cleansing of the evening hour. He called Siddhartha's name. Siddhartha gave no answer. Siddhartha sat with his eyes open, immersed, staring with his eyes fixed upon a very far goal; the tip of his tongue stuck out a little between his teeth, and he didn't appear to be breathing. Thus he sat, shrouded in meditation, thinking Om, his soul sent out like an arrow after the Brahman.
Once, the Samanas pulled through Siddhartha's town. They were pilgrims and ascetics: three scraggly, worn-out men who were neither old nor young, with dusty and bloody shoulders. They were nearly naked, singed by the sun, given over to loneliness, strangers and enemies of the world, and estranged, gaunt jackals in the domain of mankind. From behind them wafted a hot scent of quiet passion, of a duty that destroys, of a merciless self-effacing.
In the evening, after the hour of contemplation, Siddhartha said to Govinda: "Early tomorrow, my friend, Siddhartha will go to the Samanas. He will become a Samana."
Govinda paled when he heard these words and saw the resolution in the stony face of his friend, a resolution that, like the swiftest arrow let loose from the bow, could never be deflected. As soon as Govinda glimpsed this, he recognized: now it begins; now Siddhartha goes his own way, now his fate begins to sprout, and with his, mine. Govinda paled like the peel of a dry banana.
"O Siddhartha," he called, "Will your father allow you to do that?"
Siddhartha glanced at his friend like one just waking up. As quickly as the arrow flies, he read Govinda's soul; he read the anxiety and the devotion there.
"O Govinda," he said quietly, "don't waste any words on this. Tomorrow at daybreak I will begin a Samana's life. Don't discuss this any more."
Siddhartha stepped in the chamber where his father sat on a raffia mat, and walked behind his father, standing there until his father sensed that someone was standing behind him. The Brahmin spoke: "Is that you, Siddhartha? Well, say what you have come here to say."
Siddhartha spoke: "With your permission, my father. I have come to say to you that I am desirous of leaving your house tomorrow and going to the ascetics. My wish is to become a Samana. May my father not be opposed to this."
The Brahmin was silent, and silent so long that in the little window the stars wandered and changed their configuration before the silence in the chamber found an end. Silent and still, the son stood with crossed arms; silent and still, the father sat on the mat, and the stars moved in the heavens. Then the father spoke: "It is not fitting for the Brahmins to speak with severe and scornful words. Yet, I see displeasure moving your heart. I would not like to hear this request come out of your mouth a second time."
Slowly the Brahmin raised himself, Siddhartha, mute and with crossed arms, stood there.
"What are you waiting for?" asked the father.
Spoke Siddhartha: "You know what for."
Displeased, the father went out of the chamber; displeased, he sought his bed and lay down.
After an hour during which no sleep came to his eyes, the Brahmin stood up, paced to and fro, and stepped out of the house. Through the little window of the chamber he looked in, and saw that Siddhartha stood there with crossed arms, unmoved. His lightweight outer garment shimmered with a pale light. Restless at heart, the father returned to his bed.
After an hour during which no sleep came to his eyes, the Brahmin stood up again, paced to and fro, stepped in front of the house, and saw the moon, which had risen. Through the window of the chamber he glanced inside: there stood Siddhartha, unmoved, with crossed arms and the moonlight mirrored on his bare shins. The father, concerned in his heart, sought his bed.
And he came again after an hour, and came again after two hours; he glanced through the little window, saw Siddhartha standing in the moonlight, in the star shine, and in the darkness. And the father silently came again from hour to hour, glanced in the chamber, saw the immobile person standing there, then filled his heart with rage, filled his heart with disquietude, filled his heart with anxiety, and filled it with sorrow.
And in the last hour of the night, before the day began, he turned again, came into the chamber, and saw standing there the young boy that now appeared so large and strange to him.
"Siddhartha," said he, "What are you waiting for?"
"You know what for."
"Will you always stand like this and wait, until it becomes day, becomes noon, becomes evening?"
"I will stand and wait."
"You will become tired, Siddhartha."
"I will become tired."
"You will fall asleep, Siddhartha."
"I will not fall asleep."
"You will die, Siddhartha."
"I will die."
"And you would rather die than listen to your father?"
"Siddhartha has always listened to his father."
"So you want to give up your intentions?"
"Siddhartha will do what his father is going to tell him to do."
The first sunshine of the day fell upon the chamber. The Brahmin saw that Siddhartha's knees were gently trembling. In Siddhartha's face, however, he saw no trembling: the eyes looked far away. Then the father realized that Siddhartha had already gone from him and his household, that he had already left him.
The father touched Siddhartha's shoulder.
"You will," he said, "go in the woods and be a Samana. If you have found blessedness in the woods, then come and teach me how to be blessed. If you find disappointment, then return once more and let us once again sacrifice to the gods together. Now go and kiss your mother; tell her where you are going. For me, however, it is time to go to the river and perform the first cleansing."
He took his hand from his son's shoulder and went outside. Siddhartha swayed to one side as if he wanted to go. He conquered his limbs, bowed down before his father and went to his mother in order to do as his father had said.
At dawn, he slowly and with stiff legs left the still-quiet city. At the last hut, he saw a shadow that was crouching down there rise up and join him, the new pilgrim—Govinda.
"You have come," said Siddhartha as he smiled.
"I have come," said Govinda.
"Om is the bow; the arrow is the soul,
The Brahman is the arrow's goal
That one should continuously hit."
With the Samanas
THEY CAUGHT UP with the ascetics, the scraggly Samanas, in the evening of that same day, and they offered to accompany them and obey them. They were accepted.
Siddhartha gave his robe as a gift to a poor Brahmin along the road. Siddhartha wore only a loincloth and an unstitched, earth-colored shawl. He ate only once a day, and never ate anything cooked. He fasted for fifteen days. He fasted for twenty-eight days. The flesh on his thighs and cheeks dwindled away. From his enlarged eyes flickered hot dreams; the nails grew long on his dried-out fingers and he had a dry, unkempt beard on his chin. When he encountered females, his gaze was frigid; when he went through a city where the men were handsomely clothed, his mouth twitched with contempt. He saw merchants conduct trade, princes go on their hunts, mourners bemoan deaths, whores offer their services, doctors tend to their sick, priests specify which days were good for sowing seed, lovers love, mothers shush their children—and nothing was worth even the glance of his eyes. Everything was a lie, everything stank, everything stank of lies, everything feigned meaning and happiness and beauty, and yet everything was decaying while nobody acknowledged the fact. The world tasted bitter; life was agony.
One goal loomed before Siddhartha, and only one: to become empty, to be empty of thirst, of wishing, of dreams—empty of all joy and pain. He wanted the Self to die, to no longer be an "I," to find peace with an empty heart. His goal was to stand open to the wonder of thoughts conceived in self-dissolution. When every shred of his self had been conquered and put to death, when every longing and every inclination of the heart had been silenced, then the Ultimate had to awaken, that which was innermost had to come into being, that which was nothing less than the ego, the great secret.
Siddhartha stood silently in the intense rays streaming vertically from the sun; blazing with pain and blazing with thirst, he stood until he felt neither pain nor thirst any longer. He stood silently in the rain while water dripped from his hair over his frozen shoulders, over his frigid hips and legs, and still the penitent stood there until his shoulders and legs were frozen no longer, until they became silent and were still. Silently he crouched down among the briar tendrils, while blood dripped from his burning skin and pus came from his lesions. Siddhartha languished there without movement or any animation until the blood flowed no longer, until he felt nothing stinging or burning any more.
Siddhartha sat upright and learned how to breathe sparingly, learned how to get by with little breath and then learned how to halt his breathing. He learned, beginning with the breath, how to quiet his heartbeat, and then how to diminish his heart's beating until it was very little and then was almost nonexistent.
Under the teaching of the oldest Samanas, Siddhartha mastered self-denial, practiced mystic contemplation according to the new methods of the Samanas. A heron flew over the bamboo forest—and Siddhartha took the heron into his soul, he flew over the woods and the mountains. He was a heron: he fed upon fish and hungered with the heron's hunger, he spoke the cawing of the heron and died the heron's death. A dead jackal lay there on the sandy riverbank, and Siddhartha's soul slipped into the dead body. He was a dead jackal: he lay on the beach, he swelled up and stank, he rotted away and was dismembered by the hyenas before being skinned by the vultures. He turned to a skeleton and then to dust, and then he blew into the fields. And Siddhartha's soul returned. His soul had died, it had decayed, it had crumbled to dust. He had tasted the hazy intoxication of the cycle of existence and, like the hunter poised for the opportunity, awaited his chance to escape from this cycle to the place where causality ended and an eternity free of sorrow began. He deadened his senses and dulled his memory, he slid out of his self-existence into a thousand strange created things: he was an animal, he was carrion, he was stone, wood, and water, and every time when he found himself awakened once more, whether the sun or moon was shining, he was once more himself within the cycle of existence. He felt thirst, he overcame his thirst, and then he felt new thirst.
With the Samanas, Siddhartha learned quite a bit, and learned how to go away from the self in many ways. He followed the method of self-dissolution through pain, whereby he suffered voluntarily and overcame the pain, hunger, thirst, or fatigue. He achieved self-dissolution through meditation, by the concentrated clearing of all perceptions from his senses. He learned to go by these ways as well as others: he abandoned his being a thousand times, he lingered in the Not-Self hours and days at a time. But, although these paths led away from one's being, in the end they always led back to the self. Although Siddhartha fled the self a thousand times and tarried in nothing, although he spent time within animals and stones, the return was unavoidable. The hours where he found his own being were inescapable, whether in shadows or in rain he was once more Siddhartha, and the agony of the cycle of existence was once again laid upon him.
Govinda, his shadow, lived by his side. He followed this same path and he himself undertook the same tasks. They seldom spoke more to one another than the service and practices required. At times, these two went through the villages so that they could beg sustenance for themselves and their teachers.
"What do you think, Govinda?" said Siddhartha once during these begging trips, "What do you think? Should we go further? Have we achieved our goal?"
Govinda answered: "We have learned, and we continue to learn. You will be a great Samana, Siddhartha. You have learned every practice quickly, and the old Samanas have often marveled at you. One day, you will be a saint, Siddhartha."
Siddhartha spoke: "It doesn't look that way to me, my friend. The things that I have learned with the Samanas up to this point, O Govinda, I could have learned even easier and more quickly. I could have learned it in any pub located in the whore's district, there among the manual laborers and the gamblers, my friend."
Govinda said: "Siddhartha is joking with me! How could you have acquired meditation, and how could you have learned how to cease breathing; how could you have possessed immunity to hunger and pain there among all that is miserable?"
And Siddhartha spoke quietly, as if to himself: "What is mystic contemplation? What is an out-of-body experience? What is fasting? What is the cessation of breath? It is flight from one's being, it's a brief escape out of the agony of self-existence, it's a momentary anesthetic against the pain and meaninglessness of life. The ox driver could find this selfsame flight. He could find the very same momentary anesthetic in the tavern when he drinks a couple of bowls of rice wine or fermented coconut milk. At that point he no longer senses his self. He finds fleeting anesthesia. He, while falling into slumber over his bowl of rice wine, finds the same thing that Siddhartha and Govinda find when they, after hours of practice, are able to journey outside of their bodies. So it is, O Govinda."
Govinda spoke: "So you say, O friend, but you know that Siddhartha is no ox driver and that a Samana is no drunkard. True, the drinker finds anesthesia, true he finds short flight and respite, but he returns out of the illusion and finds everything just as it was before; he has not grown wiser, he has not gathered knowledge, he has not climbed one step higher."
And Siddhartha said, smiling: "I don't know that I'm never going to become a drunkard. I only know that I, Siddhartha, only find momentary numbness in my methods and meditations. I know that I am even as far removed from wisdom and deliverance as the child is while still cradled by the mother's love. This I know, O Govinda; this I know."
At another time when Siddhartha and Govinda left the woods in order to beg for some nourishment for their brothers and teachers in a village, Siddhartha began to speak, saying: "How now, Govinda; are we truly on the right path? Are we really growing towards a realization? Or are we, perhaps, just going in circles—we who think that at some point we shall escape the circle of existence?"
Govinda said: "We have learned much, Siddhartha, and much remains to be learned. We're not going in circles; we are going upwards. The circle is a spiral, and we have already climbed several steps."
Siddhartha answered: "How old do you think our oldest Samana, the one most worthy of honor, really is?"
Said Govinda: "The oldest among us is perhaps sixty years."
And Siddhartha: "He is sixty years old and has never reached Nirvana. He will become seventy and eighty, and you and I will also become old while practicing, fasting, and meditating. But we will not reach Nirvana just as he will not. O Govinda, I believe that, among all the Samanas in existence, not even a single one will reach Nirvana. We may find consolation, or numbness, or may learn genuine skills with which we can deceive ourselves. But the fundamental thing, that Way of Ways, we do not find."
"On the contrary," said Govinda, "you should not speak such outrageous words, Siddhartha! Are you saying we will find no Way of Ways among so many learned men, Brahmins, and seekers, among so many sincerely zealous and holy men, or among so many strong and venerable Samanas?
Siddhartha then said in a voice that contained scoffing and sadness, in a voice that was quiet, somewhat sad, and somewhat mocking: "Soon, Govinda, your friend will leave the Samanas' path that he has traveled for so long with you. Unfortunately, I thirst, O Govinda, and on this long path of the Samana my thirst had dwindled until it has become nothing. I have always thirsted after enlightenment; I am always becoming full of questions. I have asked the Brahmins and the holy Vedas year after year. O Govinda, perhaps it would have been just as good, just as intelligent, and just as efficacious if I had asked the rhinoceros birds or the chimpanzees. It has required a great deal of time, and even now I have not come to the end of the journey of learning this fact, O Govinda: that man can learn nothing! The thing that we call "learning" is, in truth, nonexistent! It is inherent, oh my friend, in a knowledge that is everywhere, that is Atman; it is in me and in you and in every essence. I am starting to believe that this knowledge has no more aggressive enemy than learning and the desire for knowledge.
Govinda remained on the road, standing there. He raised his hands and said: "You shouldn't alarm your friend with such conversations! Your words truly stir up worry within my heart. Just think: what would lend holiness to one's prayers, what would make the Brahmin class worthy of honor, what would make the Samanas holy, if, as you say, there is no learning?! What would all of these be, O Siddhartha, in such a case; what would be holy, what would be worthwhile, what would be venerable?
Govinda then murmured a verse out of the Upanishad:
Siddhartha, however, remained silent. He thought about the words Govinda had spoken to him, and considered them until their conclusion.
Yes, he thought while he stood there with a lowered head, what still remains of it all; what appears holy to us? What remains? What is worth doing? He then shook his head.
One time, when both lads had lived with the Samanas and shared their practices for about three years, a rumor, an adage arrived to them through various highways and byways: one named "Gotama" has appeared, the sublime, the Buddha, who has overcome the world's anguish within himself and has brought the Wheel of Rebirth to a standstill. He was surrounded by disciples as he went through the land, teaching. He was without possessions, homeless, womanless, wearing the yellow mantle of an ascetic but with a cheerful visage. He was a saint; princes and Brahmins bowed down before him and wanted to sit under his tutelage.
This tale, this rumor, this fairy tale resonated outwards, wafted upwards, and traveled here and there. The Brahmins spoke about these things in the cities, the Samanas did so in the woods; the name of Gotama, the Buddha, hammered upon the ears of young lads time and time again. They heard both good and bad reports about Gotama; they heard both adulation and abuse.
Just as it is in a land where the pestilence is raging, and tidings go forth: "here or there is a man, a sage, a harbinger whose words or whose breath, when they fell upon a person, were sufficient for healing the plague"—and just as every person spoke about these reports running rampant throughout in the land, with many believing and doubting while others immediately went on their way to seek help from the wise man—in this same way went out every tale and aromatic report of Gotama, the Buddha, the wise man of the Sakya clan. According to the believers, he possessed the highest knowledge: he could recall his previous lives, he had reached Nirvana and would not return time and again to the circle of existence, he did not submerge himself any longer in the turbulent streams of mortal beings. Many majestic and unbelievable things were reported of him: he had done miracles, he had overcome the devil, he had spoken with the gods. His enemies and the unbelievers, however, said that this Gotama was a vain seducer. They said he lived extravagantly, that he despised the sacrifices, that he had no learning and had intimate knowledge of neither customs nor the caste system.
The tales of the Buddha sounded sweet; the reports had the scent of magic. The world was certainly sick, and life was difficult to endure—and see, here a fountain appeared to spring up, here a clarion call appeared to sound that was trustworthy, mild, and full of elegant promises. Everywhere that the rumor of the Buddha cropped up, in every place in the lands of India the lads pricked up their ears. They felt a deep longing of the heart; they felt hope. Among the sons of the Brahmin and in every city and village a pilgrim or a stranger was welcome when he brought news of him who was Sublime, the Sakyamuni.
The tales slowly permeated to the Samanas in the woods as well as to Siddhartha and Govinda. The tales came slowly; they trickled in drops that were heavy with hope and heavy with doubt. They spoke little about these things, as the oldest Samana was no friend of these tales. He had heard that the one everyone looked upon as the Buddha had previously been an ascetic in the woods but had turned back to pursue luxury and the world's lusts, and he had little regard for this Gotama.
"O Siddhartha," Govinda said at one point to his friend, "Today I was in the village, and a Brahmin invited me to step into his house. In his house was a Brahmin's son from Magadha who had seen the Buddha with his own eyes and had heard his teachings. Truly, the breath in my breast failed me, and I thought to myself: how I would also like—how I would like us both, Siddhartha and I, to experience the hour when we would hear the teachings proceed from the mouth of this perfect one! Speak, friend, don't we want to go there and listen to the teachings that come from the Buddha's mouth?"
Siddhartha said: "I had always thought, O Govinda, that you would remain with the Samanas. I have always believed that it was your goal to become sixty or seventy years old, pursuing all the while the methods and means that adorn the Samanas. Ah, but see, I had known too little of Govinda. I had known little of your true heart! Now, all right—as you wish, most precious one: open forth a path and go ahead on it. Go where the Buddha proclaims his teachings."
Govinda said: "You love to mock it. You shall mock it regardless, Siddhartha! Don't you also desire, doesn't a yearning also awaken within you to hear this teaching? Didn't you once say to me that it wouldn't be long before you left the way of the Samanas?"
Siddhartha laughed at this; he laughed and his voice took on a shadow of sorrow and mockery. He said: "Truly, Govinda, you have spoken truly and have remembered correctly. Would that you had remembered the other things you have heard me say as well, namely that I have become skeptical and tired about teaching and learning, and that my trust in words that come from teachers is small. But nevertheless, dear one, I am ready to hear every teaching—even though I in my heart believe that we have already gleaned the best fruit from every teaching."
Govinda spoke: "Your readiness to do so strikes joy in my heart. But say: how is that possible? How could the teaching of Gotama have already developed its best fruit before we have ever examined it?"
Siddhartha said: "Let's savor this fruit and save the rest of it for later, Govinda! We already owe the Gotama thanks for this fruit, however, and it lies in the fact that he is calling us away from the Samanas! Whether he has other things to give us, O friend…well, let us wait for this with quieted hearts."
On this same day, Siddhartha gave the oldest Samana his decision: that he would leave. He let the elder know with the politeness and decorum that was fitting for disciples and scholars. The Samana, however, approached him in scorn because both of the lads were leaving. He spoke loudly and used coarse insults.
Govinda was shocked and became embarrassed. Siddhartha, however, leaned his mouth over to Govinda's ear and whispered to him "Now I will show the old one that I have learned something from him."
At this Siddhartha took up a position in front of the Samana and gathered his thoughts. He captured the elder's gaze with his own, entranced him, made him be silent, and drained him of his will. Siddhartha conquered the elder's will, making the elder do what he wanted. The old man became silent as his eyes stared; he was paralyzed and his arms hung down. The feeble elder was shot out of the sky by Siddhartha's spellbinding. Siddhartha's thoughts seized hold of the Samana and had to perform the actions imposed upon him. So the elder bowed down several times, completing this blessed gesture fully, and then stammered a devout wish for good travels. The lads reciprocated this wish, likewise bowing down with thanks as they walked away and bid him farewell.
As they went on their way, Govinda said: "O Siddhartha, you have learned more among the Samanas than I knew. It is very difficult indeed to bewitch an older Samana. Had you remained there, you truly would have learned to walk on water before too long."
"I don't have any desire to walk on water," said Siddhartha. "Let the old Samanas satisfy themselves with such tricks."
"Whosoever immerses themselves in Atman through contemplation and a purified spirit.
Will receive ineffable blessing in their heart."
EVERY CHILD IN the town of Savathi knew the name of the exalted Buddha, and every house was prepared to fill the alms-dishes of the silent beggars who were Gotama's disciples. Gotama's favorite place to stay was near the town: the grove of Jetavana. The wealthy merchant Anathapindika, an obedient worshipper of the exalted one, had given this grove as a gift to Gotama and his people
As the two young ascetics had searched for Gotama's dwelling place, the responses and the stories they had heard pointed them towards this area. Upon arriving in Savathi, they received a meal at the door of the first house where they had stood and begged. Siddhartha asked the woman who gave them the meal:
"You whose deeds are most gracious—we would be most glad to learn where the Buddha, who is venerable, spends his time. We are two Samanas from the woods, and have come in order to see him who is the perfected one, and to hear the teachings from his mouth."
The woman said: "You Samanas from the forest have certainly come to the right place. Know this: it is in Jetavana, in the garden of Anathapindika, that the Sublime one spends his time. You should spend the night there, pilgrims, because there is enough room there for the countless multitudes who flock here to hear the teachings from his mouth."
Govinda rejoiced at this, and full of joy he exclaimed: "Well then, our goal has been reached and our path has come to an end! But tell us, you who are mother to the pilgrims, do you know him, the Buddha; have you seen him with your eyes?"
Spoke the woman: "Many times have I seen him who is sublime. I have seen him upon many occasions, how he goes silently through the alleyways in a yellow mantle, how he silently extends his bowl at the doors of houses, and how he carries the filled dish away."
Govinda listened with delight, and still wanted to ask and hear about many things. But Siddhartha was in a hurry to continue onwards. They thanked her and went on their way, hardly having to ask for directions because so many pilgrims and monks from Gotama's neighborhood were on their way to Jetavana. As they reached it that evening, there were constant arrivals, with people shouting or talking as they sought shelter and received it. The two Samanas, who were used to living in the forest, silently and quickly found a place to stay and rested there until the morning.
At sunrise, they were astounded to see such large throngs of believers and people who were curious who had spent the night there. Monks went to and fro in yellow robes on all the paths of the majestic grove; they sat here and there among the trees, immersed in contemplation or spiritual discussions. The shadowy gardens were like a city, full of people who were bustling like bees. Most of the monks went with their alms-dishes to collect food in the city for the midday meal, the only meal of the day. The Buddha himself, the enlightened one, was also in the habit of taking this walk to beg in the morning.
Siddhartha recognized him as soon as he saw him, as if a god had pointed him out to him. He saw him, a simple man in a yellow robe, bearing the alms-dish in his hand, walking silently.
"See here!" Siddhartha said quietly to Govinda. "This one here is the Buddha."
Attentively, Govinda glanced at the monk in the yellow robe, who seemed no different from the hundreds of other monks. And soon, Govinda also realized: this is the one. And they followed him and observed him.
The Buddha went on his way, modestly and deep in his thoughts, his calm face was neither happy nor sad, it seemed to smile quietly and inwardly. With his hidden smile, the Buddha strolled on quietly, calmly, and not unlike a healthy child. He wore his robe and placed his feet much as all the other monks did, according to an exact rule. But his face and his gait, his gaze lowered quietly, his motionless hands hanging down, and even every finger of his dangling hands bespoke peace, expressed perfection—they did not search, or imitate—as they breathed softly with a calm that did not wither, with a light that did not fade, and with a peace that was intangible.
In this way Gotama strolled towards the town collecting alms, and the two Samanas recognized him simply by the perfection of his peace, by the stillness of his being in which there was no seeking, no desire, no imitation, no attempts at being seen—only light and peace.
"Today, we'll hear the teachings from his mouth." said Govinda.
Siddhartha gave no answer. He was slightly curious about this teaching. He did not believe that they would teach him anything new, but he, like Govinda, had heard the contents of this Buddha's teachings again and again, though these reports only represented second- or third-hand information. But attentively he looked at Gotama's head, his shoulders, his feet, his quietly dangling hand, and it seemed to Siddhartha as if every joint of every finger of this hand was a teacher who spoke, breathed of, exhaled the fragrance of, and shone forth with truth. This man, this Buddha was truthful down to the gesture of his last finger. This man was holy. Never before had Siddhartha revered a person so much, never before had he loved a person as much as this one.
They both followed the Buddha until they reached the town and then returned in silence, for they themselves had thought to abstain from food for the day. They saw Gotama returning—what he ate could not even have satisfied a bird's appetite—and they saw him retiring into the shade of the mango trees.
But in the evening, when the heat cooled down and everyone in the camp started to bustle about and gathered around, they heard the Buddha teaching. They heard his voice, and it also was perfected, wholly calm and full of peace. Gotama taught the lessons of suffering, of the origin of suffering, of ways to relieve suffering. Calmly and clearly his quiet speech flowed on. Suffering was life, the whole world was full of suffering, but salvation from suffering had been found: salvation was obtained by walking the path of the Buddha. The exalted one spoke with a voice that was soft yet firm; he taught the four main doctrines and taught the eightfold path. He patiently followed the typical path of teaching by using examples and repetition; his voice hovered brightly and quietly over the listeners like a light, like a star in heaven.
Night had already fallen when the Buddha had ended his speech, and many pilgrims stepped forward and asked to be accepted into the community, taking their refuge in his teachings. And Gotama accepted them by saying: "You have heard the teachings well, they have come to you well. Join us then and walk in holiness, putting an end to all suffering."
Behold, then Govinda, the shy one, also stepped forward and spoke: "I also take my refuge in the exalted one and his teachings," and he asked to be accepted into the community of discipleship and was accepted.
Directly after this, when the Buddha had retired for the night, Govinda turned to Siddhartha and spoke eagerly: "Siddhartha, it is not my place to reproach you. We have both heard the exalted one, we have both heard the teachings. Govinda has heard the teachings, he has taken refuge in it. But you, my honored friend, don't you also want to walk the path of salvation? Would you want to hesitate, do you want to wait any longer?"
Siddhartha awakened as if he had been asleep, when he heard Govinda's words. For a long time, he looked into Govinda's face. Then he spoke quietly, in a voice without mockery: "Govinda, my friend, now you have taken this step, you have chosen this path. You've always been my friend, O Govinda; you've always walked one step behind me. Often have I thought: Won't Govinda for once also take a step by himself, without me, out of his own soul? Behold, now you've turned into a man and are choosing your path for yourself. May you follow it to the end, O my friend! May you find salvation!"
Govinda, who had not yet fully understood, repeated his question in an impatient tone: "Speak up, I beg you, dear one! Tell me, since it could not be any other way, that you also, my erudite friend, will take your refuge in the exalted Buddha!"
Siddhartha placed his hand on Govinda's shoulder: "You failed to hear my blessing for you, O Govinda. I'm repeating it: May you follow this path to its end; may you find salvation!"
In this instant, Govinda realized that his friend had left him, and he started to weep.
"Siddhartha!" he exclaimed in a lamenting voice.
Siddhartha spoke kindly to him: "Don't forget, Govinda, that you are now one of the Samanas of the Buddha! You have renounced your home and your parents, renounced your heritage and possessions, renounced your free will, renounced all friendship. This is what the teachings require, this is what the exalted one wants. This is what you wanted for yourself. Tomorrow, O Govinda, I'll leave you."
For a long time, the friends continued walking in the grove; for a long time, they lay there and found no sleep. And over and over again, Govinda urged his friend to tell him why he didn't want to seek refuge in Gotama's teachings, what fault he had found in them. But Siddhartha turned him away every time and said: "Be at peace, Govinda! The teachings of the sublime one are very good; how could I find an error in them?"
Very early in the morning, a follower of Buddha, one of his oldest monks, went through the garden and called to him all those who had taken their refuge in the teachings and become novices, so that he could lay the yellow robe on them and instruct them in the primary teachings and duties of their position. Then Govinda tore himself away, embraced once again his childhood friend, and left with the novices.
But Siddhartha walked through the grove, lost in thought. There he encountered Gotama, the exalted one, and as he greeted him with respect and the Buddha's glance was so full of kindness and calm, the young man summoned his courage and asked the venerable one for the permission to speak to him. Silently the exalted one nodded his assent.
Spoke Siddhartha: "Yesterday, O exalted one, it was my privilege to hear your wondrous teachings. I came here from afar with my friend to hear your teachings. And now my friend is going to remain with your people; he has taken his refuge with you. I, however, will begin my pilgrimage once again."
"As you please," said the revered one politely.
"My speech is too bold," continued Siddhartha, "but I do not want to leave the exalted one without having honestly shared with him my thoughts. Does it please the venerable one to listen to me for one moment longer?"
Silently, the Buddha nodded his assent.
Siddhartha said: "There is one thing, O most venerable one, that I have admired in your teachings most of all. Everything in your teachings is perfectly clear and proven; you are presenting the world as a perfect chain, a chain which is never and nowhere broken, an eternal chain, the links of which are causes and effects. Never before has this been so clearly seen; never before has this been presented so irrefutably. Truly, the heart of every Brahmin has to beat stronger with love, once he has seen the world connected perfectly through your teachings, without gaps, clear as a crystal, not depending on chance or upon gods. Whether it may be good or bad, whether living according to it would be suffering or joy, may remain undecided. It may be that this is not essential. However, the unity of the world, the interconnectedness of all that transpires, the fact that the great and the small things are all encompassed by the same forces of time and law of causation, of coming into being and of dying—these shine brightly out of your exalted teachings, O perfected one. But according to your very own teachings, this unity and logical consistency of all things is nevertheless broken in one place. But through a small gap this world of unity is invaded by something alien, something which had not been there before, and which cannot be demonstrated and cannot be proven: these are your teachings of overcoming the world, of salvation. But with this small gap, with this small breach, the entire eternal and uniform law of the world is being smashed to pieces and is done away with. Please forgive me for expressing this objection."
Quietly, Gotama had listened to him, unmoved. Now the perfected one spoke with his kind, polite, and clear voice: "You've heard the teachings, O son of a Brahmin, and it is good that you've thought about them deeply. You've found a gap in them, a mistake. You should think about this further. Let me warn you, however, O seeker of knowledge, of the thicket of opinions and of arguing about words. Opinions are insubstantial: they may be beautiful or ugly, smart or foolish; everyone can support them or discard them. But the teachings you've heard from me are not my opinions, and their goal is not to explain the world to those who seek knowledge. They have a different goal; their goal is salvation from suffering. This is that which Gotama teaches, and nothing else."
"May you, O exalted one, not scorn me," said the young man. "I have not spoken to you like this to quarrel with you, to argue about words. You are truly right: opinions are insubstantial. But let me say this one more thing: I have not doubted in you for a single moment. I have not doubted for a single moment that you are Buddha who has reached the goal, the highest goal towards which so many thousands of Brahmins and sons of Brahmins are on their way. You have found salvation from death. It has come to you in the course of your own search, on your own path, through thoughts, through meditation, through realization, through enlightenment. It has not come to you by means of teachings! And—so are my thoughts, O exalted one—nobody will partake in salvation through teachings! You will not be able to convey and share with anyone, O venerable one, in words and through teachings what has happened to you in the hour of enlightenment! The teachings of the enlightened Buddha contain much. They teach many to live righteously and avoid evil. But there is one thing which these lucid and honorable teachings do not contain: they do not contain the mystery of what the exalted one alone among hundreds of thousands has experienced for himself. This is what I have thought and realized when I heard the teachings. This is why I am continuing my travels—not to seek other, better teachings, for I know there aren't any, but to depart from all teachings and all teachers and either to reach my goal on my own or to die. But I'll often think of this day, oh exalted one, and of this hour, when my eyes beheld a saint."
The Buddha's eyes quietly looked to the ground; quietly, in perfect equanimity his inscrutable face was smiling.
"May your thoughts," the venerable one spoke slowly, "not be in error! May you reach the goal! But tell me: Have you seen the multitude of my Samanas, my many brothers who have taken refuge in the teachings? And do you believe, O stranger, O Samana, do you believe that it would be better for them all to abandon the teachings and return into the life of the world and desires?"
"Such a thought is far from my mind," exclaimed Siddhartha. "Would that they all stay with the teachings, that they reach their goal! It is not my place to judge another person's life. Only for myself, for myself alone, must I pass judgment, choose, or reject. Salvation from the self is what we Samanas search for, O exalted one. If I were now one of your disciples, O honorable one, I fear that it may come to pass that my existence would only appear to be calm and redeemed, but in reality my inner being would live on and grow large because I had replaced my inner being with teachings, my duty to follow you, my love for you, and with the community of monks!"
With half of a smile, with an unwavering openness and kindness, Gotama looked into the stranger's eyes and bid him to leave with an almost imperceptible gesture.
"You are wise, O Samana." said the venerable one. "You know how to talk wisely, my friend. Be wary of too much wisdom!"
The Buddha turned away, and his glance and half-smile remained forever etched in Siddhartha's memory.
"I have never before seen a person glance and smile, sit and walk that way," he thought. "Truly, I want to be able to glance and smile, sit and walk that way, too: so free, so venerable, so concealed, so open, so child-like and mysterious. Truly, only a person who has succeeded in reaching the innermost part of his self would glance and walk this way. Truly, I also will seek to reach the innermost part of my self."
"I saw a person," Siddhartha thought, "a single one before whom I had to lower my glance. I do not want to lower my glance before any other, not before any other. No teachings will entice me any more, since this man's teachings have not enticed me."
"The Buddha has robbed me," thought Siddhartha, "he has robbed me, and he has given as a gift much more to me. He has robbed me of my friend, the one who had believed in me and now believes in him, who had been my shadow and is now Gotama's shadow. But he has given me Siddhartha, myself."
WHEN SIDDHARTHA LEFT the grove where Buddha, the perfected one, stayed behind, and where Govinda stayed behind, he felt that in this grove his past life also stayed behind and separated from him. This sensation that filled him so completely was something that he pondered as he walked slowly along. He pondered deeply, like diving into deep water: he let himself sink down to the bottom of the sensation, down to the place where the causes lie. He did so because identifying causes, so it seemed to him, was the very essence of thinking, and by this act alone sensations turn into realizations and are not lost, but become entities and start to emit like rays of light what is inside of them.
Slowly walking along, Siddhartha pondered. He realized that he was no longer a youth, but had turned into a man. He realized that one thing had left him, as a snake left its old skin; one thing which had accompanied him throughout his youth and used to be a part of him no longer existed inside him: the desire to have teachers and to listen to teachings. He had also left the last teacher who had appeared on his path, even the highest and wisest teacher, the most holy one, the Buddha. He had left him, parted from him, and was not able to accept his teachings.
The thinker walked forward more slowly, asking himself: "But what is it that you wanted to learn from teachings and from teachers that they, who have taught you much, were still unable to impart to you?" And he found: "It was the self, the purpose and essence of which I sought to learn. It was the self from which I sought freedom and that I wanted to overcome. But I was not able to overcome it; I could only deceive it, flee from it, hide from it. Truly, no thing in this world has so occupied my thoughts as has my own self, the riddle of the fact I am alive, that I am distinct and separate from all others, that I am Siddhartha! And there is no thing in this world I know less about than about me, about Siddhartha!"
After ruminating over this while he was walking along, he stopped as these thoughts caught hold of him, and immediately another thought sprang forth from these, a new thought, namely: "The fact that I know nothing about myself, that Siddhartha has remained alien and unknown to me, stems from one cause, a single cause: I was afraid of myself, I was fleeing from myself! I searched Atman, I searched Brahman, I was willing to dissect my self and peel off all of its layers, to find the core of all peels in its unknown interior, the Atman, life, the divine part, the ultimate part. But I have lost myself in the process."
Siddhartha opened his eyes and looked around; a smile filled his face and a profound feeling of awakening from long dreams flowed through him from his head down to his toes. And it was not long before he walked again, this time walking quickly like a man who knows what he must do.
"Ah," he thought, taking a deep breath, "this time I won't allow Siddhartha to escape from me again! I no longer want to begin my thoughts and my life with Atman and with the suffering of the world. I no longer want to kill and dissect myself just to find a secret behind the ruins. Neither Yoga-Veda shall teach me any more, nor Atharva-Veda, nor the ascetics, nor any kind of teachings. I want to learn from myself, want to be my student, want to get to know myself, the secret of Siddhartha."
He looked around, as if he were seeing the world for the first time. The world was beautiful and colorful; the world was strange and mysterious! Here was blue, here was yellow, here was green; the sky and the river flowed, the forest and the mountains were fixed in their places. All of it was beautiful, all of it was mysterious and magical, and in its midst he, Siddhartha, the awakening one, was on the path to himself. All of this—the yellow and blue, river and forest—entered Siddhartha for the first time through the eyes; it was no longer a spell of Mara, no longer the veil of Maya, no longer a pointless and coincidental diversity of mere appearances, despicable to the Brahmin of deep thoughts who scorns diversity and seeks unity. Blue was blue, river was river, and if the divine principle lay hidden within the blue and the river that lived within Siddhartha, so it was divinity's way and purpose for there to be here yellow, here blue, there sky, there forest, and here Siddhartha. The purpose and the essential properties were not somewhere behind the things; they were in them, in everything.
"How deaf and stupid I have been!" he thought, walking swiftly along. "When someone reads a text and wants to discover its meaning, he will not scorn the symbols and letters and call them deceptions, coincidence, and worthless shells, but he will read them, he will study and love them, letter by letter. But I, who wanted to read the book of the world and the book of my own being, I have, for the sake of a meaning I had assumed before I read, scorned the symbols and letters, I called the visible world a deception, called my eyes and my tongue coincidental and worthless forms without substance. No, this is over; I have awakened, I have indeed awakened and have not been born before this very day."
In thinking these thoughts, Siddhartha stopped once again, suddenly, as if a snake were lying in front of him on the path.
Because suddenly, this had also become clear to him: he, who was indeed like someone who had just woken up or like a new-born baby, had to start his life anew from the very beginning. When he left the grove of Jetavana this very morning, the grove of that exalted one, already awakening and already on the path towards himself, he had taken for granted and considered it only natural that he, after years as an ascetic, would return to his home and his father. But it was only in this moment when he stopped as if a snake were lying on his path that he came to this realization: "But I am no longer the person I was, I am no longer an ascetic, I am no longer a priest, I am no longer a Brahmin. Whatever would I do at my father's place, at home? Study? Make offerings? Practice meditation? But all this is over, none of this is now on my path."
Motionless, Siddhartha remained standing there, and for the span of one moment and breath, his heart felt cold. He felt a chill in his chest, just as a small animal, such as a bird or a rabbit, would when seeing how alone he was. For many years, he had been without home and had felt nothing. Now, he felt it. Still, even in the deepest meditation, he had been his father's son, had been a Brahmin, a cleric of a high caste. Now, he was nothing but Siddhartha, the awoken one; nothing else was left. He inhaled deeply, and for a moment, he felt cold, and he shivered. There was no one who was alone as he was. There was no nobleman who did not belong among the noblemen, no worker that did not belong with the workers and found refuge among them, shared their life, spoke their language. There was no Brahmin who would not be regarded as a Brahmin and live with them, no ascetic who would not find shelter in the Samana caste, and even the most forlorn hermit in the forest was not alone, he was also surrounded by a place to which he belonged. He also belonged to a caste where he was at home. Govinda had become a monk, and the thousand monks who were his brothers wore the same robe as he did, believed in his faith, spoke his language. But where did Siddhartha belong? With whom would he share his life? Whose language would he speak?
Out of this moment when the world melted away all around him, when he stood alone like a star in the sky, out of this moment of cold and despair, Siddhartha emerged, more himself than before, firmer in his resolve. He sensed that this had been the last tremor of the awakening, the final pangs of this birth. And it was not long until he walked again in long strides, started to proceed swiftly and impatiently, as he headed no longer for home, no longer to his father, no longer backwards.


text:
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subset: commoncrawl


text:
from docs/pop-imap.txt, it seems there is a AUTH=X-ZIMBRA support for imap access:
though, after login with python's imaplib, there is no AUTH=X-ZIMBRA in CAPABILITYfor Internet Message Access Protocol (IMAP)
Also support AUTH=X-ZIMBRA:
Initial (and only) SASL response is identical to that of AUTH PLAIN, except that X-ZIMBRA takes a valid Zimbra auth token
as the password (e.g. "authzid^@authcid^@authtoken"). The authtoken must match authcid, and then the normal authorization
check is made for authzid with the caveat that admin access is granted only if the supplied authtoken is an admin token.
So I want to know how to enable AUTH=X-ZIMBRA and is there further information to expand on how to use AUTH=X-ZIMBRA?< OLIN1 OK [CAPABILITY IMAP4rev1 ACL BINARY CATENATE CHILDREN CONDSTORE ENABLE ESEARCH ESORT I18NLEVEL=1 ID IDLE LIST-EXTENDED LIST-STATUS LITERAL+ LOGIN-REFERRALS MULTIAPPEND NAMESPACE QRESYNC QUOTA RIGHTS=ektx SASL-IR SEARCHRES SORT THREAD=ORDEREDSUBJECT UIDPLUS UNSELECT WITHIN XLIST] LOGIN completed


text:
I'm always on the lookout for better tools to get things done and today I'm going to share the applications I use and value the most for my productivity with you, as I feel these may be of equal benefit to you as well. [1] Please feel free to let me know about your choices in the comments below, including if there are others that really do the job for you. I upgrade my collection of tools regularly and am always game to give something new a spin.
On my giant smartphone (the Samsung Galaxy Note3) I use most of the same services and apps, provided an app for Android exists. So you'll see me use Evernote, Dropbox, Google Drive, Hangouts, Doit.im, et cetera, there as well.
The main noteworthy mentions are:
Not everything on the Mac has a worthy equivalent on Android, so I don't have a text editor to recommend here for example. On phones, I find that Google Drive, or any of the built-in editors capable of editing files that are stored in Dropbox, to be okay in a pinch.
As I mentioned in a previous post, I recently got a new iPad Air 2. It's an entertainment device but I try to use it for productivity tasks as well. This will be the case all the more so once I get my hands on a decent keyboard case for it.
Much like my phone, where corresponding Mac apps exist for iOS, I use them. So Evernote, Dropbox, 1Password, and even Byword, are all installed there. One exception would be an RSS reader. Technically there is Reeder for the iPad, but I have been using the free version of FeeddlerRSS so far and find that it works well enough.
On top of the more or less cross-platform list, I have a few educational apps which are actually useful thanks to the iPad's screen size:
There are more applications, of course, but these are the ones that I use frequently and feel are worth mentioning. That said, this list is never static. For example, just a couple of days ago, while on Skype with my friend Kalid, he mentioned Beeminder to me, praising its accountability and goal tracking abilities. I had already come across it before, but overlooked it. Kalid swears by it, so I'm going to give it a shot.
Let me know what you use and would recommend. I love to check out cool applications and refine my toolkit and workflow as needed.
If you enjoyed this post, then make sure you subscribe to my Newsletter and/or Feed.
Nice list! From the perspective of a developer, GitHub is one of the tools I felt was missing on this list. If you use GitHub, then ZenHub (https://zenhub.io) should be on the list too!
Kudos on your list. But, how does it help anyone? Are you bragging? Do you really think people need this information?
Well, I think that yes, I can use some this links and informations.
I sincerely welcome and appreciate your comments, whether in agreement or dissenting with my article. However, trolling will not be tolerated. Comments are automatically closed 15 days after the publication of each article.


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JOCKEY RONALD RICHARD, DALLON'S GOLD, WINNER: "I had the outside post position. I was planning to break it out of the gate and get on top of the favorite. Nothing is ever for sure, but I definitely loved my chances from there. The only proven horse I was really scared of was Chu and You, and Dallon's Gold is unproven having only won two races. Going up against a horse that has won three stakes races is a pretty big test."
JOCKEY JULIEN COUTON, CHU AND YOU, 1-TO-5 FAVORITE, FOURTH: "She didn't get away as fast as she did the last two times. Dallon's Gold broke on top, and that was probably their plan. Chu and You likes to be on the front side, and today she was surprised to be right behind the pace. She didn't know what to do. She's a very different filly, and has a lot of potential, but she's still learning. She needs to learn how to run from behind when a horse breaks faster than usual.
NOTES: Dallon's Gold (3-3-0-0-$42,538)…This was the first Emerald Downs stakes victory for jockey Ronald Richard…It was the first stakes win of the meet for trainer Dave Bennett and his fourth all-time at Emerald Downs…Fourth-place finisher Chu and You accounted for $25,718 of $27,566 in the show pool; the $2 show prices for runner-up Moony Moony ($50) and third-place Stikine Slough ($26.80) were the largest of the meet…Previously unbeaten in four starts including three stakes, Chu and You was voted the track's Top 2-Year-Old Filly of 2013…Ron & Nina Hagen, honorary stewards for the Cahill Road, bred Dallon's Gold at El Dorado Farms in Enumclaw.


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Congrats Br OHG !!!Many smiles per gallon to you
So far just one continuous smile I know the mileage will go up after break in but so far I'm averaging 63mpg vs 43 on my Kaw 650. BTW I know we can't sell things here but I now have 5 bikes for sale! All cheap! The RE is taking the place of them all. I'll be spamming craigslist next week.
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text: A couple of years ago I was bow hunting on my neigbor's alfalfa field when I saw this mule deer buck. As I was sneaking on a bunch of deer feeding and bedded in the alfalfa, I saw this guy sneaking out the back end. Sorry, for the fuzzy pictures. I was pushing my telephoto to the limit. Anyway, after he jumped the fence he disappeared over the ridge and I never saw him again or talked to anyone who had seen anything like him. I've always wondered if he was just passing thru, moving on to some new country. He didn't have a big spread, but the tine length, mass and body size were terrific.


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Sometimes a commenter will act like they just cracked the case and are shedding the light on a massive Bay Area media conspiracy theory, and questions whether I'm getting paid on the side by KNBR. Or, if I have a vested interest in that station succeeding. Ha. Couldn't be further from the truth. In fact, the last 24 hours proved they can't stand me.
First, they unfollowed me on Twitter, and KNBR follows any Bay Area sports fan with a pulse (and no, I'm not referring to Matt Steinmetz's show on "The Game"). I thought it was because I opened up the Macbook after getting home from the not-so-Superdome last night and questioned the 49ers' playcalling, secondary and hashtags. Write about hosts getting fired, how they refuse to work with one another or even when they ignore stories they don't like due to the university they attended? That's fine, but don't question our flagship teams!
Maybe some intern was running the account who couldn't handle my frustrated tone. Or, perhaps it had something to do with a host (whom I don't particularly care for) announcing this:
Our vacation is coming to a close, kids. Nothing like an egotistical triathlete reminiscing on his days with the D-Backs to make an afternoon seem like torture — and not the fun kind celebrated by Duane Kuiper.
I was hoping against hope that KNBR would let Byrnes walk (or swim, bike, run, whatever he chooses as long as it's not on terrestrial radio). But no, our days of intelligent sports banter between Tom Tolbert and Ray Ratto are probably coming to a close, at least on a daily basis. In its place will be the same old, "Hey dude, I beat you by 10 strokes with these $100K custom-fitted clubs" screech-fest I learned to avoid last baseball season.
Yes, Byrnes played baseball. He knows much more about what it's like to reside in a clubhouse and lace 'em up than myself and most members of the local media. But Ratto challenges Tolbert (like a certain you-know-who used to), and the two discussed almost all relevant sports intelligently. On the other hand, Tolbert once had to explain to Byrnes who George "The Iceman" Gervin is. Ratto also doesn't plug his Twitter account before every … single … break (and don't forget about Facebook!), or act as if his love for insipid pop songs somehow makes him seem hipper or younger than the average talk show host.
As much as I don't appreciate Byrnes, I really like Ratto. He's one of the smartest, hardest-working media personalities in the region, and he's actually funny. Funny and loud are two different things.
KNBR probably doesn't have much use for Byrnes during the MLB offseason. Perhaps that's why they took their sweet time coming to an agreement with the man who, like almost everyone I've come across who's done an Ironman, CAN'T STOP TALKING ABOUT THE FACT THAT THEY'RE TRAINING FOR AN IRONMAN.
Am I making it too obvious that in a former life I once managed a triathlon store and had to listen to these narcissists prattle on about personal bests for 40-50 hours per week? Did you know that they all shave their legs (and in many cases, most of the rest of their body)? Oh, they'll show you. There aren't enough mirrors in a triathlon store, because then you wouldn't have enough room for the skin tight performance wear, running shoes, bikes, energy gel and all the other weird chemicals triathletes ingest to reach their VO2 max.
This probably doesn't mean the end of Ratto on KNBR, since he clearly impressed the Cumulus higher-ups enough to become the clear fill-in choice (and we know that Byrnes isn't about to work five days a week on a consistent basis). And who knows, maybe Byrnes will go back to hosting Sportsphone 680 … nah, that's a long shot. Byrnes clearly liked that drivetime spot next to Tolbert, and if what I heard was true — Byrnes was holding out for more money, and that's why he hasn't been heard on "The Sports Leader" for several weeks — they won't pay him more just to field calls from drunks and stay until midnight doing postgame shows for the Giants. And, in some cases, even the Warriors.
With Byrnes probably returning and making 3-7 pm a designated "Bro Time" for KNBR, I guess it's time to start listening more to Chris Townsend and Ric Bucher. I've tried to get into The Game's marquee show, but I've had a hard time listening much longer than during the commercials for Tolbert and Ratto. But I've got to listen to something, right? I guess there's always music…


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WASHINGTON, D.C. (WUSA) --- The Washington Guardian posted Thursday a video from Barack Obama's senate race in Illinois where the candidate said " I think we need to re-think our marijuana laws but I'm not somebody who believes in legalization."
That was in 2004.
"From November, 2011, through today, there have been more medical marijuana dispensaries busted under the Obama Administration than in eight years of George Bush's administration, said Allen St. Pierre, the Executive Director of the National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws.
"I think the reason why this happened is for triangulation, that Obama was not going to go into this presidency, going into this election with his opponents hanging him out to dry as allowing marijuana to be come legal on his watch," St. Pierre told 9News Now.
As the Obama Administration made those arrests, the DC government has been struggling to fully implement a medical marijuana law passed and signed in 2010.
Asked when the bureaucratic details allowing the law to operate would be resolved, DC Health Department officials predicted in July, 2011 that the law would be operating by May, 2012. It is still not in effect, dispensaries still not selling product to patients whose doctors believe they need it.
"If the cultivators are not able to sell their product to the dispensaries while they are waiting for them to open, that means that that product that they have is going to eventually go up in price because they have to cover their added cost.
"When the dispensaries do buy it at a higher prices, that means that the dispensary then, in turn, is, again, going to have to sell that product at a higher prices to vulnerable adults.
"We're talking about sick people and their health insurance isn't going to be covering the cost,so what we could possibly end up with is, we could possibly end up with the case that the medical marijuana from the dispensaries would be more expensive than what these individuals could find it on the street," said Matt Doherty of Garden Resources of Washington.


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Play Postponed at Big 12 Championship
HUTCHINSON, Kan. – Competition was postponed today at the 2013 Big 12 Men's Golf Championship at Prairie Dunes Country Club in Hutchinson, Kan.
Cold temperatures and high winds swept through the Hutchinson area this morning causing today's play to be postponed. The event was originally scheduled to be 72 holes, but the tournament will conclude with the third and final round tomorrow as a 54-hole event.
All teams completed the first round yesterday and a few teams still have a couple of holes left to finish round two action. Iowa State has three players with holes to complete in round two before final round tee times begin at Noon tomorrow.
Team Scores
1. Oklahoma State 285
3. Kansas 289
4. Texas 290
5. Kansas State 291
6. Oklahoma 296
7. Baylor 297
8. Texas Tech 303
9. Iowa State 306
Individual Scores
1. Chris Gilbert, Kansas 69
2. Talor Gooch, Oklahoma State 70
Brandon Stone, Texas 70
Patrick Winther, Oklahoma State 70
Julien Brun, TCU 70
Pontus Gad, TCU 70
Iowa State Scores
T7. Scott Fernandez 72
T19. Sam Daley 75
T34. Zach Steffen 77
44. Collin Foster 82
45. Duncan Croudis 85


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Some people wanted to call this "The Snuggie Hall of Shame." We didn't. Because there's no shame in wearing a Snuggie. Hell, everyone at our office is wearing one right now. We only wish it were one of these.
Gallery: The Snuggie Hall Of Amazing
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Truck buying activity on solid footing, says ACT Research
April 06, 2011
Truck buying activity is still firmly in positive territory based on data released today by ACT Research, a provider of data and analysis for trucks and other commercial vehicles.
ACT reported that a preliminary reading of heavy-duty Class 8 commercial vehicle net orders for North American markets increased to 29,200 units in March, representing the largest monthly order intake since May 2006.
"March finished off a second consecutive quarter of elevated Class 8 demand. Orders were booked in excess of a 300,000 unit annualized rate from October to March. Industry backlogs, which fell just short of 100,000 units in February, likely rose by another 8,000 to 10,000 units in March," said Kenny Vieth, president and senior analyst, in a statement. "With the uptrend firmly established, the question for 2011 is now the industry's ability to meet demand, instead of whether demand would rise to expectations. History shows that production always chases demand at the beginning of the cycle. Unlike orders, the industry needs to work in unison to raise production."
As LM has reported, ACT officials said that continued strong demand for equipment indicates trucking fleets are ramping up replacement of vehicles, which has largely been deferred the past two years.
What's more, ACT's forecast for the Class 8 market indicates that 2011 will be at least 50 percent better than 2010 and closer to 60 percent when production is factored in.
"We are expecting good things," said ACT Vice President, Commercial Vehicle Sector Steve Tam. "Tonnage is getting better, but there is still a 'freight bubble.' We still move a disproportionate amount of freight in the second half of the year. It is not a huge percentage but when you look at the total tonnage, it does not take long to add up."
And when looking at demand in ACT's forecasts, Tam said roughly 70 percent of all orders are typically for replacing existing equipment due to things like aging and wear and tear.
This, said Tam, is what is driving the majority of the growth in ACT's forecast annually.
"Our forecast model actually says that we ought to be building something closer to 275,000-to-280,000 units for this year, but we have held that back because we don't think the industry is capable of doing that," said Tam. "The OEMS can do it, as can the first-tier guys, but there are some supply base constraints in the second and third tier that would preclude that from happening."
Looking ahead, Tam said based on historical data there could be a slowdown in orders over the second and third quarters due to order build cycle activity. This is because most carriers and shippers want to book their orders by the end of the first quarter, with deliveries occurring late in the second quarter or early in the third quarter.
For related articles, please click here.
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Beyond Santorum's Sweater: 2012's Best Campaign Swag
This week, Rick Santorum grabbed headlines when he offered campaign donors the sweater vest off his back. But the former senator faces a tough fight in the campaign merchandise contest. As GOP primary season heats up, here's our rundown of the winners and losers in the battle of the campaign swag.


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Each year, thousands of unsuspecting Americans fall at home leaving many of them seriously injured and even disabled. In 2010, more than 12,800 people over age 65 died and 1.6 million were treated in emergency departments because of falls.
Falls can occur unexpectedly, even to the most sure-of-foot person. Most falls take place at home, making proactive fall prevention around the house so important. Here are some safety tips to help prevent slips, trips, and falls:
In addition to fall prevention at home, being aware of weather and terrain conditions when you venture outdoors is also important. Easy Comforts offers easy-to-handle products that can reduce hazards and aid in personal stability while away from home.
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Bad base
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from Md
Comments about Able® Tripod Cane Base:
Cane will not stand alone. Cane slips and wobbles in the tight fitting base. Not worth price.
Bottom Line No, I would not recommend this to a friend
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IBM Study Points to CMO, Marketer of the Future, as Customer Experiences Remain Top Priority
IBM's new survey of marketing professionals finds that chief marketing officers (CMOs) are differentiating their brands by crunching big data in real-time and automating personalized marketing campaigns. The price tag for failing to meet the needs of today's so-called "omni-channel shoppers" -- who frequent both online and in-store channels -- is $83 billion in lost sales in the U.S. each year due to poor and inconsistent customer experiences.
Other top findings from the survey point to leading marketers taking greater responsibility over customer service interactions as they become the official brand stewards company-wide. At the same time, leading marketers are capitalizing on big data to better personalize their marketing communications. They are looking beyond segments and demographics to provide the right offers, services and information at exactly the right moment in the customer relationship. Further, marketers are looking to use location-based services to target more digitally-savvy, on-the-move customers and deliver seamless, intuitive customer interactions.
The survey, which identified leading marketers based on their level of adoption of cross-channel technologies and their ability to proactively influence the customer experience, found that 39 percent of leading marketers are adjusting real-time offers based on customer wants, needs and preferences. In comparison, only 15 percent of remaining marketers surveyed do so. Seventy-one percent of leading marketers are delivering personalized messages in real-time through social media channels, including Facebook, Twitter, blogs, and review sites, while 62 percent of leading marketers are delivering those same personalized messages through the mobile channel.
Please read the entire press release here


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Okay - I'm admittedly late to the tennis match on this one but I couldn't deny you Rafael Nadal playing with balls, could I?
The Majorcan Matador joins other Olympic athletes including Michael Phelps, Asafa Powell, Barbora Spotakova, Lindsey Vonn and Pernilla Wiberg for a user-generated contest called "The Best of Us Challenge."
It gives fans an unique opportunity to compete against their fave athlete by breaking the sports star's record in a Challenge they created themselves. Anyone who records and submits their Challenge is eligible to win a trip to the Vancouver 2010 Winter Olympic Games or the first-ever Youth Olympic Games in Singapore. In addition, those who beat or come closest to beating their Olympic athlete are eligible to win Gold, Silver, and Bronze level prizes.
So, can you beat Rafa at his Challenge (read: are your thighs strong enough to crack walnuts?)
Click here to visit The Best of US Challenge site.
Thanks Bob!
(screen grab via thebestofuschallenge.olympic.org)
Thursday, October 29, 2009
MEDIA MASHUP: Rafa (and his thighs) take "The Best of US Challenge"
Labels: Olympics, Rafael Nadal, sports marketing, tennis, video
7 comments:
Ahhhhh...I can never get enough of Rafa and his balls...ReplyDelete
"(read: are your thighs strong enough to crack walnuts?)"
I can kill a man with mine.
- AnonymousOctober 29, 2009 at 9:16 AM
He's the sweetest guy on earth!! And his smile is very warm and sincere. I love him! After every one of his matches, Rafa always makes me want to fight hard and believe more.ReplyDelete
- Michelle_SeashellOctober 30, 2009 at 5:25 PM
You definitely are LATE on this one.ReplyDelete
I've already memorized the entire video! Fine details too.
Well, I guess cuz you've uploaded it, I have no choice but to watch it for the 20,000th time.
*sigh* Oh well...
*clicks on vid and watches*
I swear, i can NEVER get old! He is the sweetest thing ever!
I just FLVOE this man!
The glitter in his eyes, the adorable focused determination, the satisfied smile at the end. The talking. O.M.G.
He's just a Honey. There's no other way of putting it. Absolutely Rafadorable!
What a sweetheart. :3ReplyDelete
Too adorable for words. <3
Even though I've ALSO watched this vid countless times. I will go ahead and watch it again too!ReplyDelete
What a cutie-pie. As per usual.
He just oozes love and charisma...
<3 <3 <3
- AnonymousNovember 1, 2009 at 6:21 AM
I keep thinking I can't get any more besotted with him. And then I do. Rafa, you gorgeous, gorgeous boy. <3ReplyDelete


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I'm pretty new to using Zimbra desktop. I was wondering if there are any advanced spam controls available? Lately I've been receiving mass amounts of spam and the available controls don't seem to help much.
Any advice would be greatly appreciated. :)
Oh and also, I've used systems that would "learn" what is and is not spam over time. Does Zimbra Desktop have a similar functionality?


text:
Jay-Z is slated to take the stage alongside Bruce Springsteen at President Barack Obama's campaign rally in Ohio.
The day before the election, Hov is currently in Columbus to perform in support of the current POTUS' re-election.
The Roc Nation chief has been vocal about his support for Obama in this election. "For so long, there was this voice that was silenced out there as far as exercising the right to vote. I think it was a voice that was silent because people had lost hope. People didn't believe that their voice mattered or counted. They thought it was just policies, people going back and forth and at the end of the day, it never trickled down to where we live," he previously said. "Now, people are exercising their right and you starting to see the power of our vote. It means something for the first time for a lot of people, having someone in office who understands how powerful our voice can be. It's very important."
Watch the live stream of the performance below, beginning at 3:30 p.m. EST.
RELATED: Jay-Z Voices Support For President Barack Obama In Upcoming Election


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Classic and beautiful
I love Goldleaf! It's strong but not overwhelming. It's vintage Hollywood with serious staying power. The scent makes me think of lavish parties with champagne and a piano. I've been a huge fan of it for many years and I'm 39 now. It's a classic and beautiful fragrance not to be confused with "old". I really enjoy the dusting powder. It's a nice soft layer of the perfume. I have other items in Goldleaf, too. Definitely my favorite!
Doodles Grandma
LOVE This Fragrance!
I've been wearing Gold Leaf fragrance for years and only recently found a place near me that carried the Dusting Power. I am beyond delighted to lavish myself in this wonder fragrance with my parfum, dusting powder, and lotion. When I'm wearing it, I feel very feminine!
I love this powder. Goldleaf is an intoxicatingly beautiful, luscious scent. It makes me feel completely beautiful. I won't be without it. Lasts a LONG time.
I can't imagine a day without this beautifully perfumed body powder!
It is simply the perfect touch to start or end your day.
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Colorado Springs, CO -- Veteran forward Lamar Odom has decided to withdraw from the Olympics, making it a bit easier for Team USA to choose its 12-man roster for the London Games.
Odom, who was traded to the Los Angeles Clippers on Friday, announced he will be unavailable to play.
There are 15 finalists for the final 12 spots. They are: Carmelo Anthony (New York Knicks); Kobe Bryant (Los Angeles Lakers); Tyson Chandler (New York Knicks); Anthony Davis (New Orleans Hornets); Kevin Durant (Oklahoma City Thunder); Rudy Gay (Memphis Grizzlies); Eric Gordon (New Orleans Hornets); Blake Griffin (Los Angeles Clippers); James Harden (Oklahoma City Thunder); Andre Iguodala (Philadelphia 76ers); LeBron James (Miami Heat); Kevin Love (Minnesota Timberwolves); Chris Paul (Los Angeles Clippers); Russell Westbrook (Oklahoma City Thunder); and Deron Williams (Brooklyn Nets).
The team will open training with a camp in Las Vegas, starting July 5. The USA's 12-man roster will be announced after the team's practice on July 7.
"While it is unfortunate to have lost the players we have, Coach (Mike) Krzyzewski and I remain extremely confident with the group of players we'll have at our training camp in Las Vegas. We believe that we will still have an outstanding collection of talent and that ultimately we will have another team that all Americans will be excited about and proud of," said USA Basketball Chairman Jerry Colangelo.
The Sports Network


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Okay I'm a month or two out from buying a different vehicle. Will probably buy a Chevy Traverse or a Dodge Durango. Not going to give the dealer the advantage of knowing that I've zeroed in on one type. Going to go the used car route.
It's been a while since I haggled with a car salesman. I work in sales, so the thought of it doesn't bother me at all. Actually looking forward to the game. Am curious some of the techinques some of you more regular car buyers use to score a deal?
I thought I'd find some on the internet first at one or two at a dealer far away, give them a call and see how low they'll go. Once I have that information will stick in my back pocket and then go to the local dealers(which is who I'd really like to buy from) and test drive a few and see what they'll do for me. If they don't come down to what I found out of town, I'll pull out the cards and say hey I can drive over here and get one picked up for this. Will you work with me?
I'm keeping my current car so no trade to deal with and I think that's to my advantage as dealers don't like to deal with them unless they can get them cheap?
I've debated not even going into the local dealer and negoating the deal over the phone before even stepping foot in the door. Not sure if that will really help me?
May try coming in the end of the month or end of the week if the quota thing really works?
Looking forward to responses!
Go to costco, get your 1 stop price, and start there.
They who can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety. - Benjamin Franklin 1775
Negotiate online. the online sales people get paid on quantity of cars sold. not on what they get for them. At least that is what I have read.
Since you have time, figure out what you think it's worth or what you will pay. Take a chunk off of that and make a ridiculously low offer but make sure they know you're serious. Then, wait for the call. That's how I do it anyway. The last two verhicle I have purchased have been new but I paid 32K for a 45K sticker and 44K for a 56K sticker. I go by 75% of sticker. I try to stay under that. You will be different with used but let them know you are serious without committing anything.
This is very important:
2014-15 KenPom AdjO (rating)
116.3 (11)
2015-16 KenPom AdjO (rating
120.7 (3)
My dad always says to make sure it seems like you're not really tied down to that particular dealership or the particular car you're looking at. Make it look like you're willing to get up and walk out and never come back.
The Official Paul Rhode's Salt Truck Driver.
Think Tommy Boy and apply it.
If your current car is acceptable, I think that is a great bargaining chip when negotiating in person. Desperation is their foot in the door. Having a car that runs just fine means you can let them know you will walk unless they can meet your price on both the vehicle you are wanting AND what you are trading in. Sometimes you get that awesome negotiated price and then totally bite it when they tell you what your car is worth. Another good tactic when working with the buy and trade is negotiate the "walk out the door price" so that you don't get that great price and then have all the fees and add ons afterwards.
Use all the car pricing guides (Blue Book) understanding you MUST use the one for your region! Watch out for a dealer showing you the BB value when your car is valued differently in different parts of the country. Know what the car is worth then be comfortable looking elsewhere.
Originally Posted by SpokaneCY
Use all the car pricing guides (Blue Book) understanding you MUST use the one for your region! Watch out for a dealer showing you the BB value when your car is valued differently in different parts of the country. Know what the car is worth then be comfortable looking elsewhere.
Blue book values are largely junk in general. Go find a similar car on their lot and use the number they are asking against them.
Roll in looking broke and homeless, then they'll know the numbers have to be low. Smelling of boose as you ask for a test drive should be fun also. But really go in knowing you dont need a car today and work the numbers you want, if it doesnt work right away let them sit on the offer and call you.
Torrent Brewing Company
When my father-in-law buys a new car, this is what he does.
Picks 2 dealers and the car he wants (last one was an Accord). He goes to each dealer and says, "I want a new Accord. I don't want to negotiate with you. I'm going to you and one other dealer. You give me your best price, he'll give me his best price, and then I'm going with whichever is lower."
Apparently it worked pretty well.
A good resource that I've found is Hassle-free car-buying experience from a nationwide network of certified dealers. - TrueCar
Figure out the vehicle you want, then call your banker and have them give you book value on the vehicle even if your not financing the purchase, and the amount they would loan on that vehicle. The car guide your bank uses is different than anything you can find online. Take the loan amount to your dealer if it is lower than what they have the car listed and is an amount you like and tell them that is the most you will go.
Other thing - had a friend who was paying cash for a vehicle, had the bank draft a certified check for the amount he wanted to spend and took the check to the dealership. Told the salesperson he was only going to spend x amount on the vehicle he wanted and if they wanted to sell the car he'd better make it work. He left with the car.
meh. i'm in sales and have let guys walk over $250 on 60,000 piece of equipment. bottom line is bottom line for me anyway. best advice, tell them you're paying cash. ****s up the whole-what do you want your payment to be angle for them. a good salesman will get an offer out of you-not just an offer but a realistic one. they will box you in to try for the quick pressure deal. whether you want to or not going in, it will happen once there-even if you do walk away. it's a science and the good ones are great at it. end of the day, make sure you buy a vehicle that's right for you, not because you think you are getting a good deal. after being in sales, when i buy something i don't want to do the dance. just give me the best price on the vehicle i WANT, and if it's fair i'll take it. i understand they have to make money. if i want it bad enough, i'll pay for it. if i don't i won't. people get too caught up in the "good deal". i'm here to tell you-they are all going to make money on you. sure you can whittle that margin down, but you are not going to fleece the dealer.
My wife bought her last car by looking at one when she was in Omaha on business. Then she came home and told the local dealer what she'd pay, and he came back $80 higher than the Omaha guy. She walked and called up the Omaha dealer. They even drove the car to our house and dropped it off with a full tank of gas.
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