Kitabı oku: «Tales Written by the Dying in Awe», sayfa 3

A Person and a House

Person looked at a photograph of his home. The house was far away. Person went into it in the mornings and lived there. He cleaned up, ate, slept in bed, and went out to his small garden and worked there. At night, everything was different. Person became larger and the house smaller.

They – Person and his house – flew together to a town that Person liked. There Person played with the house and treated it as a toy. He put it various places, sometimes even in the town square or in the middle of a street, and feasted his eyes on it. When a rare passerby or car came along, it passed and drove through the house, and Person never noticed them.

“How wonderful is it!” Person thought. “This is exactly how one needs to live in the material world: so that no one has a clue about your existence.”

Getting Rid of Condemnation

Once, Spiritually Cultivating One asked One Who Prays, “Honorable sir, how, in your opinion, is it possible to get rid of a condemnation?”

“This is not so hard,” One Who Prays replied. “After all, all human imperfections concentrate in our souls, whether in mine or in yours.”

“You are mistaken, honorable sir,” Spiritually Cultivating Person ardently objected. “I neither kill nor steal, nor copulate promiscuously, nor drink alcohol.”

One Who Prays smiled slightly. “I speak not only about evident imperfections. Look deeper inside of your soul. Can you say that you have never wished death to a living creature that seemed to you unacceptably reprobate? Honestly, why play hanky-panky with yourself?”

Spiritually Cultivating Person drew breath and said nothing.

“Can you say that you have never wished to possess something that you did not produce or to gain possession of something belonging to someone else?” asked the One Who Prays.

Spiritually Cultivating Person bit his lip.

“Can you say that in your thoughts you have never wished to copulate with a beautiful girl you have met?”

Spiritually Cultivating Person blushed.

“So this is the answer to your question,” One Who Prays concluded. “As soon as a condemnation besets your heart, look honestly into your own soul. There for sure you will find the same thing you dared to condemn in the other one – or if not exactly that thing, then an allusion to it.”

Spiritually Cultivating Person cried in despair, “So what is going on? We are bastards, all of us; is this why one may indulge in lust without any hope of purifying one’s soul?”

“That is hardly true,” One Who Prays said. “I would advise you to overcome the imperfections that are natural for living creatures by practicing a hearty love of the Most High. Practice tremulous awe of the creator. Practice love, awe, compassion, deification, and spiritualizing of the one being in existence. In this there is hope, health, and a particular heavenly happiness.

“Few are fascinated with this, though, because this kind of practice leads to transmigration to heaven as a still-living body. Who needs that? After all, living creatures want purification while staying passionate about and tied to earthly shadows. This is why I think that it would be better for you to seek the advice of an acknowledged earthly authority.”

“One Who Prays speaks the truth,” Spiritually Cultivating Person thought, and he bent his steps toward such.

Fly

How can one live for one who is loved by nobody or almost nobody? You are correct: this is awful. This is why I love flies. I feel a great pity for them.

Look at with what hatred people chase them out of their rooms with towels! Just imagine that this were you and not a fly some huge creature is trying to hit with a flyswatter – no, a human swatter? Imagine that it is your path along which flypaper is placed, and you become stuck to it and scream in despair, anticipating your inevitable end. Imagine that it is you, who – nobody knows why – is being poisoned by gases.

Birds similar to the roc try to peck you with their beaks. Hidden frogs the size of cottages throw out their long sticky tongues and try to swallow you. Would this not seem too cruel and unfair to you? Would it? Only two or three times in your life would a loving being nestle up with you ass to ass, and finally you would taste felicity. However, this can serve a consolation for all the misery…

Well, you know, as a matter of fact, sometimes flies like you. They wish to communicate with you. They flock about you, sit on you, make contact with you in the way that is available to them. But what do you do in response? Do you return the tender affection? No! Maliciously, you chase the loving creature away or even strive to beat it to death.

Well, flies’ fates are unenviable. What is it, divine punishment? Maybe. Ponder this the next time negative emotions arise toward a fly. Think that perhaps it loves you, that for your rage against a living creature, there is a high probability that you could be punished – for example, in the form of your next incarnation in the body of a fly. Then other people would hate you and chase you away – although for this it is not necessary to be a fly at all. Sometimes this happens to people who are out of favor with heaven and are being punished.

Nevertheless, you know, flies have something enviable. With cold weather’s arrival, not all flies die between your window frames. Some of them find secluded places and go beddy-bye for the winter. Flies’ lifetimes are short by human reckoning. Imagine if you slept through thirty or fifty years! How great it would be to wake up and see an absolutely different life! To feel delight for the accomplishments of scientists and engineers, accomplishments beyond your dreams! To see, finally, how human society transformed, to what extent it became more spiritual and kind! Oh, how marvelous it would be. But unfortunately, I am not a fly.

Words of Soul

Look at me and smile. But please be silent. Then I shall easily be able to hear the voice of your soul. If you start speaking with earthly words, you will spoil everything. After all, a word is false if it is spoken. As for words of the soul, it is impossible to utter them or inscribe them. But it is possible to hear them with the heart. For this, lips must be joined while thoughts are stopped.

The way souls speak is very similar to the way that one soul is similar to another. People differ in their experiences, views, and customs. For me, this is not interesting. I enjoy the angelic sameness of souls, their paradisiac clarity, and their sweet songs, which are impossible for earthly beings to sing. This is why I say, “Look at me, be silent, and smile.” I shall do the same. The happiness will have no end, because it had no beginning.

Opinion Poll

A student decided to write an article describing the notion of paradise as it is understood by common people. He read about paradise in the Bible, the Koran, and Buddhist writings. And then he went out to the streets to ask people what they thought. This is what his compatriots said:

“Paradise is a place where all girls attend my desires,” a young man said.

“Paradise is a garden where narcotic drugs hang on every twig, where one need not go to school and can play computer games all day long,” a teenager said.

“Paradise is unlimited sex without the danger of getting sick or pregnant. It is many free pleasures – clubs, restaurants, dresses, beauty salons, and so on. You understand,” said a girl, letting her dreams fly.

“In paradise, there is a lot of free alcohol, and one can drink it without getting drunk,” a middle-aged man told the student.

“In paradise, people work one day and rest for six, and wages are three times higher than ours,” a worker said.

“Paradise is unlimited power over people,” a politician said.

“Paradise is a country where it is possible to cash in on and seize someone else’s assets without fear of retaliation and the necessity of tax payments,” said an entrepreneur.

“Paradise is a life of ease in the West,” a woman said, sharing her innermost dream.

“Paradise is a triumph of liberty, equality, and brotherhood,” a member of the Masonic lodge proclaimed.

“In paradise I will be the one who is right, while all the rest of the people will be fools,” a truth seeker replied. “And I will be able to force them to accept my truth, because my truth is noble and promotes higher justice and social prosperity.”

“Paradise on earth is a triumph of Christian faith,” a monk told the student.

“Paradise is a state of infinite happiness after death – if a person kept God’s commandments during his lifetime,” a churchgoer said.

“Paradise is a nondrinking husband and healthy children,” a homemaker said confidently.

“Paradise is a life with two legs,” a legless cripple avowed.

“Paradise is a place of peace and health, where one need not pay off his apartment or buy drugs and food,” a retiree grumbled.

The student wrote these responses in his notebook. It turned out that according to people’s representation, paradise was a country of debauchery, health, richness, idleness, narcomania, alcoholism, permissiveness, and broken families, although some people wanted to impose on others a personal power, a private truth, or a moral or religious commandment. But that would hardly be allowed, the student concluded, because those who wished debauchery were the overwhelming majority. And with great relish, he waded into his article.

Space Full of Light

Everyone is convinced that space is black. But this is true only for the physical vision.

Once I slept peacefully in a nebula. I was like an embryo in a womb, and the great mother lulled me with her love and a soundless angelic song.

I was immobile. But it seemed to me that I was swaying in a paradisiac cradle – what happiness! – and I understood that I was an ancient baby, not yet born but knowing everything.

My eyelids were closed. But with my spiritual eyes, I saw the infinity surrounding me. It was blue-black and illuminated by myriads of stars.

It seemed that it would always be this way. But suddenly, instantaneously, the space became glaringly yellow-white. The space flared up with truly divine enjoyment and exaltation. And what was surprising was that the stars contrived to glow in this impossible shining! They became even whiter and more piercing! Everything sang and sounded in a spiritual way, and at the same time, it impressed with the silence of eternity.

“Almighty God, let it be always,” I whispered with my spiritual lips.

And heaven smiled at me in reply.

There’s Happiness, and Then There’s Happiness

A man worked unremittingly. In front of him, he saw only earth. He always did everything well. And there was no need to look at heaven. He was happy.

Another man dreamed more than he worked. His purposes were elevated. But ill luck pursued him in all his endeavors. The man did not realize that he acted wrongly. So he blamed an imperfection of earth for his failures. Then this man appealed to heaven in the way widely accepted on earth. The ill luck continued pursuing him. And the man gave himself completely to heaven. This is where he found his happiness.

Both the man devoted to earth and the man devoted to heaven wrote books with instructions on how to be happy. The first man’s book was printed all over the world and earned him a huge profit. As for the second man’s book, people made brutal fun of it, although both books were about paths to happiness. This is because there’s happiness, and then there’s another happiness.

How Planet U Perished

The Most High populated planet U with intellectual trees and unthinking, anthropomorphic beings. The trees considered the anthropomorphic beings to be their little brothers and took care of them as best as they could.

In their turn, the anthropomorphic ones uglified the surface of planet U. With a vengeance, they struggled to clog it; in short, they behaved like earth’s babies. Among other things, the anthropomorphic ones made the planet’s air unbreathable. And moreover, they even destroyed the trees! When it came to respect for trees, the anthropomorphic ones had nothing of the kind. The anthropomorphic ones spit at the base of trees; in the same places, they threw their cigarette stubs. They broke branches, tore off leaves, and carved their names into the trees’ bark. It was terrible!

Honestly speaking, if I were in a tree’s skin, I would not have taken care of the anthropomorphic ones. Too cruel were they. And perhaps I would have died because of humiliation and grief.

Nevertheless, the trees kept growing! Spiritually, they were higher and nobler than I am. They were genuine angels! As for the anthropomorphic ones’ barbarity, the trees perceived it as the naughtiness of little children. And like parents who love too deeply, they kept giving their shadows to the anthropomorphic ones for shade and their flesh for the construction of their houses. Moreover, the trees absorbed the harmful egesta of the anthropomorphic ones, while they themselves exhaled vivifying gases to the atmosphere! There were no limits to the trees’ disregard of self!

However, the anthropomorphic ones kept going on the rampage. Resignedly and with a prayer, the trees perished from their actions, one after another. The trees asked the Great Inconceivable to forgive the anthropomorphic ones, not to destroy them. The Inconceivable said nothing and only smiled in sadness. It knew that the anthropomorphic ones would destroy themselves. So with love, it kept accepting the killed trees into its Garden of Eden.

And finally, on the planet U, only one tree was left. It was several thousand years old. Its branches died away one after another. Now, the anthropomorphic ones did not goof on the last tree. They cared for it. They tried to cure it. But it was already too late. A time came when no leaf sprouted from the only living branch. The tree died. Being scant of breath, the anthropomorphic ones perished too. Life on planet U stopped.

Do you think that I have blamed the anthropomorphic ones and sermonized here? Not at all. In this tragedy, there was the holy will of the Great Inconceivable, either for the trees or for anthropomorphic ones or for planet U itself. Why? Well, certainly, we – you and I – are no judges in this matter.

Fog

Once, when I was yet in my earthly life, I transformed into a fog: I became gray, damp, cool, and formless. I remember my anxious feeling. Being a cloud is strange.

I do not know why and where I was born, but I found myself on a hill. I was not successful in maintaining the level of the hill, so I flowed into a lower place.

To live without a body is wonderful! But I felt a marked annoyance because my consciousness was unclear; something shadowed it. What was it, and why? I could not understand.

Scrubs, thorny weeds, and trees did not scratch me. On the contrary, with tenderness, I embraced them. And it seemed to me that the plants did the same to me. I dragged along the earth, and it did not scratch me. Both on the earth and on the plants, I left particles of my essence. I granted them moisture. They drank me! This is probably what a nursing mother senses. But a mother does not disappear. She takes nourishment and restores her forces. My forces were not being restored. I cannot say that it aggrieved me, but a feeling of weakness grew, of lassitude, drowsiness, and a special blithe quietness.

Spreading wider and wider, I got thinner. No, I did not disappear. But my flesh was becoming more transparent, rarefied, and warm. My consciousness was becoming clearer. The sun was transforming from a white spot into something light yellow and white-hot. I felt that it dissolved me as if I were the snow maiden. At first I tried to hide from it, and I flowed down into a ravine to a brook. I played hide-and-seek with the sun. But it found me through hazel branches, and, being content, it started smiling. I returned the smile to the sun and stretched myself to him. The game was over. Slumber got the upper hand.

I fell asleep, or more precisely, I somehow changed my form. And life continued to enjoy its existence without me – without the fog.

Three Sages

On all planets, in all countries, there are sages.

A king was told that a sage lived within the borders of his country. “I want my people to be familiar with the sage’s wisdom,” the king said. “A candle must be lifted onto a candlestick. It is not good for it to become soot in a cellar.”

The sage was brought to the capital, lodged in a penthouse, and provided with royal supplies. Blessed by the king, he started sermonizing. Nevertheless, the sage was surrounded by a cloud of a public hatred. Under the moisture of this cloud, the sage’s candle soon died away. His gravestone was violated.

The king of a second country was also informed that a sage lived in his kingdom. He instructed his court philosopher to verify the report. The philosopher found an inconsistency between the sage’s doctrine and the country’s national ideals. The informant was deprived of his position, and the philosopher was rewarded. As for the sage, he was kept under surveillance.

The sage was not old, and he wished to have followers. A young man became inflamed with the sage’s doctrine and tried to sermonize. The young man was apprehended and beaten half to death by the police. The sage’s shed caught fire, incidentally. The sage left the second country for a third one. There, in peace, blessings, and oblivion, he lived to extremely old age. Nobody knows exactly where he was buried.

In a fourth country, nobody reported the existence of a sage to the king. Because people judged the sage so absurdly, the idea of determining whether the sage was really a sage could gain no traction. At first, the sage was offended by his compatriots’ opinion. But then he realized the great happiness of not being understood. His candle burned without harming the skin. She was shining solemnly and blindingly invisibly. However, why did I say it was alight? It is still alight now!

Angelic Music

“People say a soul has strings that make sound,” I said to Hermit.

“It has,” he replied.

“But who hears its music? Who touches those strings?”

Hermit was thoughtful for a while and then replied, “If the whole heart of a living creature is tuned to Heaven, then the Most High himself touches the strings of the soul, and it – this happy soul – distributes the angelic music all around.”

“But who hears it, then?”

“Only such a person who also left the earth and who, though seeming to live on the material planet, actually dwells in paradisiac pastures. The spiritual ears of such a living creature enjoy the angelic music. As for the rest, it does not exist for them.”

“So the beauty of the angelic music cannot act upon the world?”

“When I was young, I thought that it could,” the Hermit replied sadly. “But my spiritual experience did not confirm this. As living creatures devoted to earth, soul strings are touched only by passions, according to the will of the Everlasting.”

“Can it be that such is the Everlasting’s desire?”

“It is not a desire of the Everlasting, exactly. The Everlasting attends the sincere desires of living creatures. With all of us, what we subconsciously want to happen does happen. I want to enjoy the angelic music, and I bathe in it, hindering nobody. The one who wants to change his consciousness with drumming also gets his desire – and it is good if he does it via headphones. Alas, in the world, sound violation is accepted. Only few consider it violence.

“Besides, do not forget that it is necessary for the Most High to ruin the earth. Is angelic music fit for this purpose? Of course not. This is why, in the minds of the overwhelming majority of living creatures, heaven plants the eagerness for deafening, passionate music.

“However, it seems to me that a soul has no strings at all. A soul sounds like a wind instrument. The Great Spirit or passions touch it, and the passionate music fills in the world.”

“Unfortunately, all the music we hear is passionate,” I said with a sigh.

“Yes. Because reproducing the angelic music to make it accessible to physical hearing is impossible.”

“But this is similar to an invisible dress – the person wearing it is in fact naked!”

“One could say so, yes. Because the spiritual and the material do not conform, actually. What is innermost is a profanation for an earthly mind. Worldly wisdom is senseless for an inhabitant of heaven.”