Archaic Religious Mysticism
I have learned patience, eventually.
Patience is the ability to resist expressing extreme anxiety or anger in face of irritating and preposterous situations.
I was standing in a wheat field watching a procession of veiled men and women dressed in sackcloth. I was beckoned by a man who appeared to be the minister and he told me that these people I saw called themselves "Weigeists". To become a member of the cult, each person is sent a letter inviting them to ten years of poverty. All of the members of the Weige movement came from affluent backgrounds.
The minister told me that the most appropriate response of the bourgeois to the zeitgeist is poverty. Moral increment is in the hands of those who deprive themselves economic comfort: as a mockery and repentance for their careless luxury. As the minister finished his speech, he put a ragged cap on and followed the procession with equal solemnity. Each face is solemn with pain and suffering, sadness and reproach for the world.
Overcome by sudden fear, I began to run and it was all I can remember.
Waking up from a dream is as bewildering as a waking in to consciousness.
I woke up on a low straw mat in a dark room. The room had a terrace where women with shaved heads stood and watched. I rose to my feet and walked towards them, I could here them speaking to each other in a foreign tongue; they never took their eyes off of me. "Shedal," I greeted them, like I was a stranger and a friend. They responded in the same foreign tongue which I seemed to understand.
They led me outside where there was a large square room that was doorless and windowless - its peculiar feature is its roof which was wide open. Men and women were moaning as they climbed in out of the room through its gaping hole. The sun bore on them; the smell of their sweat you could almost taste. They clamored in and out of the box to be with God.
According to a legend, a prophet was told by God that she could only step on earth upon its holiest ground. When the prophet Oneiris stepped on a soil that set his feet on fire without burning him, he knew that it was the right place. So he built walls around it so that the dust of its soil would not fly away from where it was.
On the day of God's descent, she inspected the room and was satisfied. Oneiris bowed down before her and God told him all the wisdom of Gaia. The purpose of keeping holy ground in one place had fulfilled the destiny that man's union with God is a privilege awarded to those who deserve. And on that day, Oneiris spoke to God for many hours and decided finally to disappear into oblivion with her.
A carpenter from a village nearby saw the temple that Oneiris built and climbed in out of curiosity. Once inside, his head was filled with voices that he broke down in tears and began moaning so loud. His tears were the sorrows of God. The tragedies that befell civilizations. The horrible cry of a mother being impaled by the vicious spear of man. Images of children beheaded in the name of power.
Every person who stepped inside the holy ground would see what God knew.
But unlike the prophet, most people were not pure of heart, so their feet were charred while their mind wandered off into the wisdom of the world. When the carpenter fell out of his trance, he desperately climbed out of the room, crawling his way back to the village. His feet, up to his ankles, had turned into ash.
He told everyone in the village everything he saw. To his last breathe, that was all he said and he died laughing hysterically. Many people in the village were curious and climbed in to the temple.
Some were burnt and some were not. Those were not burnt were decidedly holy, and were decidedly God's chosen ones. As a symbol of their dedication to her almighty, they shaved their heads as an offering of their souls.
Patience is the ability to resist expressing extreme anxiety or anger in face of irritating and preposterous situations.
I was standing in a wheat field watching a procession of veiled men and women dressed in sackcloth. I was beckoned by a man who appeared to be the minister and he told me that these people I saw called themselves "Weigeists". To become a member of the cult, each person is sent a letter inviting them to ten years of poverty. All of the members of the Weige movement came from affluent backgrounds.
The minister told me that the most appropriate response of the bourgeois to the zeitgeist is poverty. Moral increment is in the hands of those who deprive themselves economic comfort: as a mockery and repentance for their careless luxury. As the minister finished his speech, he put a ragged cap on and followed the procession with equal solemnity. Each face is solemn with pain and suffering, sadness and reproach for the world.
Overcome by sudden fear, I began to run and it was all I can remember.
Waking up from a dream is as bewildering as a waking in to consciousness.
I woke up on a low straw mat in a dark room. The room had a terrace where women with shaved heads stood and watched. I rose to my feet and walked towards them, I could here them speaking to each other in a foreign tongue; they never took their eyes off of me. "Shedal," I greeted them, like I was a stranger and a friend. They responded in the same foreign tongue which I seemed to understand.
They led me outside where there was a large square room that was doorless and windowless - its peculiar feature is its roof which was wide open. Men and women were moaning as they climbed in out of the room through its gaping hole. The sun bore on them; the smell of their sweat you could almost taste. They clamored in and out of the box to be with God.
According to a legend, a prophet was told by God that she could only step on earth upon its holiest ground. When the prophet Oneiris stepped on a soil that set his feet on fire without burning him, he knew that it was the right place. So he built walls around it so that the dust of its soil would not fly away from where it was.
On the day of God's descent, she inspected the room and was satisfied. Oneiris bowed down before her and God told him all the wisdom of Gaia. The purpose of keeping holy ground in one place had fulfilled the destiny that man's union with God is a privilege awarded to those who deserve. And on that day, Oneiris spoke to God for many hours and decided finally to disappear into oblivion with her.
A carpenter from a village nearby saw the temple that Oneiris built and climbed in out of curiosity. Once inside, his head was filled with voices that he broke down in tears and began moaning so loud. His tears were the sorrows of God. The tragedies that befell civilizations. The horrible cry of a mother being impaled by the vicious spear of man. Images of children beheaded in the name of power.
Every person who stepped inside the holy ground would see what God knew.
But unlike the prophet, most people were not pure of heart, so their feet were charred while their mind wandered off into the wisdom of the world. When the carpenter fell out of his trance, he desperately climbed out of the room, crawling his way back to the village. His feet, up to his ankles, had turned into ash.
He told everyone in the village everything he saw. To his last breathe, that was all he said and he died laughing hysterically. Many people in the village were curious and climbed in to the temple.
Some were burnt and some were not. Those were not burnt were decidedly holy, and were decidedly God's chosen ones. As a symbol of their dedication to her almighty, they shaved their heads as an offering of their souls.