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ISBN 978-5-4490-9909-9

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Tales Written by the Dying in Awe
Vysheslav Filevsky

Preface

This book is by a Russian-speaking Brazilian author and contains short stories and fairy tales for adults. They are about the grace of love and awe of the great Inconceivable and its creation. They are also about the way that consciously fostering these two ideas could create a universal world religion of consensual reconciliation. But who on earth earnestly wants that?

Foreword

The author asked me, his friend, to write the foreword to his book.

Feeling myself highly flattered, first of all, I praise his commitment to start and his ability to finish this work, which is a philosophical and psychological one that reveals his sensitivity and knowledge of life.

The author is an idealist.

The well-selected artwork is expressive.

The author is a true friend of the Russian nation and a native speaker of the charming Russian tongue, a language as rich and motley as the people who created it.

– Pedro Sergio Lozar

Belo Horizonte, Brazil, June 2015

Legend: Introduction

My spiritual experience is only mine.

But perhaps its representation

Will amuse a bored reader.

In the spiritual space surrounding earth, I would say there exists a bodiless, omnipresent spider. He encounters every soul with a cobweb of words, notions, and ideas. In this way, he objectivizes heaven’s will for humankind and the earth. This is why people comply fully with their predestined fates, leading their histories to their completions. They keep performing them involuntarily. These people are inhabitants.

Following its divine fancy, heaven loves some souls more than it loves others. To them it grants the right to thin the spider’s cobweb and communicate with it – with heaven – directly. There are very few such souls. On earth, they are despicable derelicts.

The souls that make the cobweb thin are busy with loving worship of inconceivable heaven. And they obey destiny – that which is written about them in the Book of Life. Such souls, as well as the souls of common inhabitants, make no impact on the march of history. Nothing can prevent the wreckage of civilization, the destruction of the planet. After all, everything born must inevitably die. This is the way it is determined by inconceivable heaven.

These parables, which were told by an old hermit and recorded by me, are stories about souls worshiping heaven with love.

Author’s note: the pictures accompanying the text are available free on the Internet.

The Sky of Heaven

Someone said to the Elder, “They say that above the sky there is another sky, the sky of heaven. What is that?”

“This is what creates worlds. This, among other things, is what created our earth with its gas wrapping that earthlings call the sky. This is what also generated the earth’s spiritual cover, which the planet’s inhabitants call the noosphere, their God or heaven of a higher order.” Such was the Elder’s reply.

“How do you imagine the sky of heaven?”

“For a living creature, it is impossible to imagine it,” the Elder continued. “All discussions of this topic are fantastic ideas, wandering thoughts.”

Someone still asked for an answer. “Still, what would you call it?”

“If you are so insistent…” The Elder pondered and lowered his head. Then slowly he lifted it and started speaking to no one in particular, looking nowhere.

“The sky of heaven is what is universal, what builds things up and destroys them. Sometimes it appears to me in my dreams in the form of a swirling blackness as huge as my whole consciousness. Then it tightens, and over time, all of creation’s products disappear there without a trace. Into it we are also going to disappear.

“In a mysterious way, suddenly, the black swirl transforms into a softly shining silver-edged beige cloud. Several times, it came to me in my waking state. It goes on, this cloud, and seems to take a living being for the soul, bringing it nearer to itself and transforming it from a servant of the earth to a servant of heaven. In such instances, a living creature involuntarily swears an oath of loyalty to it. I also swore such an oath.

“But in my opinion, the images that I described to you are false. The sky of heaven provided me with them because of the feebleness of my spiritual essence. Meanwhile, in fact, there is neither a swirl nor a cloud.”

“Well, what is there then?”

“Some mysterious and great inconceivable force. In order to describe it somehow, living creatures came up with a lot of names. I call it heaven, the Most High, the Everlasting… Nevertheless, all of these are my mental fabrications and come within an inch of blasphemy. I pray to the sky of heaven for forgiveness for the sake of my hearty love for it and my tremulous awe of it.”

What Is Life Like?

There were two men. One traveled around the world just for pleasure. Meanwhile, the second never left his village and felt no need to see other countries. Both of them died on the same day. Together, they went to heaven. There, an angel who had never visited earth met them.

“What are your impressions of life while possessing a body?” the angel asked the two souls.

“Life on the earth is varied,” the first one replied.

“Life is deep,” the second one said.

The angel said nothing to them but smiled instead, because he knew that one could give hundreds of definitions of mortal life.

You might wonder, “So why did he ask, if he already knew everything?”

In reply, I would say to you, “Can we know why spirits act one way or another?”

Mode of Existence

Once upon a time, there was a man who wrote poetry. But when people took his books into their hands and opened them, they saw only empty pages.

At first, the man was astonished and outraged. Then he said, “Oh, here, look – here are the poems!” And with his finger, he pointed to this or that tiny image.

And indeed, some people succeeded in perceiving signs or even words in his books. But those signs and words did not settle into familiar concepts. And this is why people did not understand them. Then the man recited his opuses aloud. People heard only sound vibrations that meant nothing to them.

Finally, the man realized that his poetry was not for people. “For whom, then?” he mused. “For the Great Inconceivable? For the angels of heaven?” And the man started to listen for sensations that emanated from angels. And indeed, nothing settled into words or concepts! Nothing from the inexpressibly beautiful what angels do could not be displayed using musical notation. And the man realized that angels sing (or speak?) not for someone but instead for no reason. Angels sing or speak not as an act of creativity but as a mode of existence. And after that, he started to act the same way.

Do You Need It?

Prayer had no living creature who would share his views. Meanwhile, he knew (or so it seemed to him) everything. Besides, he could answer any question. The life of his planet and the existence of the aerospace appeared to him clearly – notwithstanding that nobody came to this creature and asked him anything. Why was it this way?

Prayer thought a great deal about it. And he realized that he, with his spiritual wisdom, did not need anyone except himself and inconceivable heaven. He realized that his knowledge and truth were the knowledge and the truth only for himself, notwithstanding that he believed that he possessed a high knowledge inaccessible to the ordinary person.

“Living creatures know everything themselves.” To this conclusion Prayer came. “They just wear a mask, suggesting that things are not clear to them. Everyone believes he possesses a supreme truth. And everyone believes this to such an extent that he is ready to preach to the world and to destroy everyone who thinks another way. Anyhow, everyone believes that otherwise-minded people are inferior.”

Every one of us is a world; everyone is a cosmic space; everyone is infinity; everyone is right.

But if so, where is the reliance? Well, after all, a head whirls with all of these opposite truths. Prayer knew the answer to this question too. But I will not reveal it. And you hardly need it, do you?

Along the Sky, Dogs Run

On a border of a village lived Yes-Man, while on the opposite border lived Truth Seeker did. When someone said that dogs run on the sky and birds fly under earth, Yes-Man nodded his head in agreement, while Truth Seeker entered into a desperate dispute. This is why Truth Seeker was considered a quarrelsome man, while Yes-Man was a delight for everyone. Yes-Man was welcome in the village; people did not refuse him anything. Meanwhile, Truth Seeker moved along his life as if poking through a primeval forest.

Yes-Man had pity for Truth Seeker, and when they met one day, he told him, “The heart clenches at the sight of your martyrdom. For you, what is the truth for? If your superiors want dogs running on the sky and birds flying under the earth, just concede. Is it not all the same for you? About a hundred times, silently repeat, “Dogs run on the sky,” and finally, like all others, you will give credit to it. If you believe, you will obtain society’s respect and your superiors’ benevolence. It would be easy and pleasant to live. Consider that life is given to everyone only once. And as for your life, it is as if you found it among the garbage – you transformed it into martyrdom. Agree that birds fly under the earth, and if you must, cross your fingers inside your pocket. Just think, this is the way all sane people behave.”

Truth Seeker boiled over. “Hey, am I sick or what?”

“Well, how can one say that you are sane?” Yes-Man said with pity. “Look at you. Look at what a rage you are in. A person who is always angry is never sane.”

But it was impossible to stop Truth Seeker. A flood of anger swept through him. Up hills and down dales, he denounced cunning rulers and mean, deceitful, and immoral inhabitants.

Yes-Man lived out his life in prosperity and happiness. Meanwhile, Truth Seeker spent the last of his life in a hospital. I don’t remember now what kind it was – it was either a neurological ward or a psychiatric one.

White Crow

Man performed his physical exercises in a park. But nobody else did exercises in such a place. So other living creatures looked at Man as if he were a white crow.

Man knew that he was a white crow. This is why he took the attitude of the surrounding creatures for granted. He even tried to speak to real black crows in (as it seemed to him) their own language, though the black crows did not understand him. They became either frightened or outraged. They had no desire to have anything in common with Man.

Perhaps the speech of the white crow did make some sense to the black crows. But evidently, it was unpleasant for them and maybe insulting. Then the white crow realized that he did not need any conversation with the black crows. Instead, how nice it was to admire them from afar, to watch their lives, and inwardly to declare his love for them!

When the white crow behaved like this, he felt a deep harmony with life, with the world of living and inanimate creatures created by an inconceivable heaven. He forgot about his inferiority; he was a small particle of existing matter. And he realized that this was exactly what is called happiness.

Patient Chart

When the sky of heaven created me, the planet earth (as you call me) and my physical sky, I looked like the sun. I was a sphere boiling with fire. This fiery existence was unpleasant for me because there was no peace in it. My ideal is to live in great peace. But everything in its time.

I cooled down. Soon my body pleased me well, and so I gave many thanks to the merciful Inconceivable. However, sometimes, as if against my will, earthquakes and hurricanes happened. But they only emphasized my quietness. They just strengthened the sensation of my benign nature. So with pleasure, I perceived myself as a planet.

I especially liked it when moisture evaporated from my surface and turned into rain-bearing clouds. Sometimes I even felt a need to transform into an aqueous whirlwind and distribute my power in a huge storm cloud, because I knew that my skin, my surface, needed the moisture. It needed it everywhere. With my mind, I formed clouds. Then I spilled water on those parts of my skin that were thirsty. From this I felt a great satisfaction.

Over time, the sky of heaven created a spiritual sky of earth. Those skies and earth gave birth to many living creatures. One of these creatures, people, developed the need for spirits. The merciful spiritual sky of earth generated them too.

It became harder for me. People considered the spiritual sky of earth to be the prime cause of everything. Those concepts proliferated and eclipsed the sky of heaven, blocking my view of it as if with thick, dark clouds. Because of this, I suffered. But people did not stop at this point. They began to worship their own kind. This was their choice.

The spiritual dark clouds became impermeable. It got very hard to breathe. No longer could I form a rain-bearing cloud and spill my moisture where it was needed. My skin dried up here and overheated or supercooled there. People treated me more and more barbarically, more and more cruelly. My diseases became severe, constant, and incurable. I felt impending death. And then I cried out to the benign sky of heaven, which had been cut off from me.

The Great Inconceivable heard my pleading and returned my hearty love and tremulous veneration. It taught me how to dissipate the clouds of customs, beliefs, and bustle. It even endowed me with the grace of love for the living beings that led me to destruction. Step by step, I became happy again. And the forthcoming death did not scare me any longer, because I stopped being a material thing. I learned how to thin the dark spiritual cloud of human customs and faiths and see the sky of heaven.

Heaven’s Benevolence

Sometimes righteous men think, “How good it is to be a saint! How good to sit endlessly in a mountain cave and devote oneself to the meditation of heaven. To settle in a nest among the thick branches of a tree and meet the eastern sun with prayer.” However, everyone realizes that prior to happily separating oneself from the world, one needs to develop the skill of finding nourishment, like an animal or a bird does, or to acquire the ability to generate the nutrients necessary for life inside of one’s own body.

Such practices exist. This is how one can become a saint and hermit. But it is good to be aware that acquiring such skills can take half a lifetime of hard-praying labor. Only afterward will the delight of a cave or a nest be felt.

But where is the guarantee that all of this tough work will be crowned with success, that the would-be saint will not find himself back at the bottom of the ladder and realize that his life was spent in vain, and that instead of a nest, he has made a loop for himself? Besides, society would actively assist him with that!

But does not the same happen in the life of a man devoted to earth? For example, look at a bawdry-minded person: he discovered something, composed his theses, and was glorified by the world. And then it turned out that the work of his entire life was a mistake. It would be best if the bawdry-minded man had died before this revelation. Then he would have suffered mockery, humiliation, and death from alcohol abuse or heart failure.

It is all a matter of the concept that moves a person, is it not? Well, anyhow, this too turns out to be not so important. The main thing is whether a person has the favor of the Most High or not. This is the essence. Is it possible to attain this favor? Who knows? Nobody is aware of what is written about him in the Book of Life. Meanwhile, everyone can see himself in any role on earth.

Way

One thinks that a way is a movement. But this is modification. One can be changed while staying immovable. This is the way of chosen ones. On the other hand, one can move a great deal while staying unchanged. This is the way of ordinary people.

Common people are changed only in their appearance. Meanwhile, the chosen ones are changed not only externally but also internally. Neither ordinary people nor the chosen ones are innocent in change or in the absence of change. All that matters is the will of the Everlasting.

To be a chosen one and to go through spiritual changes is not an enviable destiny. Most probably, this is the fate of a derelict, because the common inhabitants are the backbone of the world.

Why then does heaven need more chosen ones? Who knows? If the Inconceivable asked me, “What do you want to be?” I would reply, “A common inhabitant.”

The Most High’s chosen ones recklessly pray for the grace of change. (Changes seem to be a grace for them.) Spiritual changes are granted. Chosen ones believe that their destinies change. From the outside, it can seem so. But upon a closer look at something important or maybe even fundamental, a living creature stays immovable. Heaven laughs at the illusions of a spiritual movement maker!

Way: Is it not just a semblance? A living creature’s thoughts about its chosenness are just a temptation, are they not?

To Think Nice Things for People

An old man from the planet S sat under an earthly tree and mused, “My mentor taught me that when I communicate with an earth inhabitant, I should say only nice things. But by doing so, I myself become an accomplice to some degree in their affairs, which are against my conscience. This is why it is probably correct to be silent and only think things that are nice for people, so that these living creatures will not think that I share their pattern of thought, which would mean that I am ready to be an accomplice.

“What can be more pleasant to a living creature than hearing a declaration of love? I feel nice doing so, but in silence, because I do not share people’s thoughts and customs. Even earthlings’ culture is unacceptable to me. This is why I am considered an enemy. Can a declaration of love from an enemy be pleasant for anyone?”

Then the old man said to heaven, “To be an enemy is unpleasant and not beneficial. How can I be in a loving relationship with the world if I do not share its path?”

“By being silent,” heaven replied. “By being silent. By staying as far away as possible and constantly declaring your love to the world. The earthlings will unwittingly feel your love and subconsciously feel sympathy toward you. If they attack you with conversation, speak about trifles that have no significance to you. Look like a stupid or mentally flawed person; let them consider you unworthy of serious affairs. This way, you will escape a partnership.”

“But what if they force me to communicate?”

“If escape is impossible, well, communicate without communicating. Be present while being absent. Constantly keep in mind that in fact, you are in the sky. It is true, is it not? Feel the celestial angels around you; listen to their soundless songs; say pleasant trifles. And above all, remember, never argue about the things that occupy your mind, about the concerns you live with, about love and veneration.”

The old man said his thanks to inconceivable heaven for the correction and lost himself in declarations of love to the world of earthlings that was so foreign to him.

Unanimity with Folk

A herd of rams ran. They were happy because they ran on a unanimous impulse. In their path, a precipice yawned. Most of the rams noticed it only in their last instant, when it was already impossible to stop. They fell and perished.

But two rams felt wrong beforehand, and they wanted to be saved. One of them resisted the flow of the herd, but he was trampled to death under hoof.

Another ram ran closer to the edge of the herd. He broke out of the flux just meters from the precipice. In horror, he looked at the steep drop and then at his compatriots, and he bleated desperately, “Stop, everyone! There is the death beyond!” But as they passed by, the others looked at him as at a betrayer, a renegade, an idiot.

So in this way, the herd perished. The surviving ram stayed alone and fell into contemplation. Which is better, a lonely life or a death in happy unanimity with mad compatriots? The survivor loved his folk very deeply. Over time, his torment of conscience that he did not share his herd’s fate became more and more cruel. One day, he could longer stand the loneliness. So the survivor ran and jumped from the same precipice below which his compatriots had died. He cried with happiness as he flew down; he was with his herd again.

Of course, everyone knows that there was another surviving ram. Escaping from the doomed herd, he enjoyed life. But this does not fit into the story of unity with the other rams.