Automatic Writing
I imagined that there had to be a teacher. Teachers were better then books, because you could ask them questions. Books ask you questions, sometimes, but they don’t go out of their way, to help you answer them.
I wanted a fantasy. There would be grass under a clear sky. It would be warm. There would be interesting stones. And we would walk under the sky and between the stones. He would tell me many things.
“What is the world, altogether, Alex?”
“The world?”
“This world.” And he would gesture towards the sky and the stone and the grass. “Yes, we must inquire deeply into this world. We must see all of it.”
When a person says something like this, he cannot smile enough. For the prospect of seeing each thing, must provoke in a person the greatest hope. This is like the prospect of being everywhere always. This is the prospect of being with God, because God is always with being (being is not without God). The joy is the joy of being taken up by the angels, so that the whole world becomes apparent, transparent. And the greatest joy would be to walk by his side -- someone beautiful and open and free, who is going to show us what is beautiful and open and free. The greatest joy would be this, to have someone patient, sincere, sympathetic, and wise, who is ready to offer us a view of the whole world through words. If this is your minister, God, then send him to me!
They say also that the sage is a homely, old man, who speaks slowly and with great confusion, who listens and grins and is content with little. He is a man of simple wit and infinite patience, who sits down on a rock to drink a cup of water in the shade. And occasionally the homely little man utters his homely little truth: “At a cheerful festival of the gods do not cut the withered from the quick upon that which has five branches with bright steel.” Perhaps he is sometimes profound, only because he cannot quite say what he means, but must blush and imply it. He is a farmer, and for this one life is growth, but also withering, and the sweat between them. And so his final word, is, “Sweat.” Sweat will keep you cool in the summers and warm in the winter. Suffer a little now to avoid greater pains. Glean what you can from the wind and the divine signs. Learn what works, learn what is propitious, and please those whose pleasure is our livelihood. Avoid extravagance and you will avoid poverty. Sweat, and be prudent.
Life is not dull, because it is painful enough, to keep our interest! We take our pain in installments, since this is preferable to receiving all of it at once. And sometimes, we indulge in a pleasure, and dart our eyes about, to make sure no one has noticed, or if anyone notices, to see whether he minds. We are timid and polite. This is economics.
-- What is there to talk about? Insofar as we know what there is to talk about, and how to talk about it, we will live well. -- I am looking up at the stars, and he is standing over me. I come back to myself. -- There is everything to say. I can mention each of my thoughts as I have them, since I can say whatever I think. -- But how many things are there to think about? You know that if two people were trapped together, they would wonder how much food there was to go around, while they were waiting to be rescued. And so if two people are forced, whether by themselves or by any other circumstance, to spend any amount of time together, they wonder how much conversation there is to go around, since just as the body hungers for food, so the mind hungers for conversation. So how much will we have to talk about? You and I, or any of us? What are the things we talk about? -- We talk about each other, and about ourselves, about what we are enjoying of suffering and what we want to enjoy and want not to suffer, and what pleasure and displeasure we have gotten from each other, and what the character of each person is, since that is what most pleases or displeases us, and we notice a great deal of things -- what a person is wearing, whether or not he looks ill, how it seems he feels. But we also talk with each other about everything it is we are doing to alleviate pain and satisfy desire -- and we are always giving each other the lay of the land, like scouts, who warn their armies by letting them know everything.
-- Well that is fine, people talk about a great many things -- and who could number them? Or is it possible to settle absolutely on the number of things we can talk about? -- But of course, we can talk about anything. And so there are as many things to talk about as there are things. -- But there is even more to talk about, if we can also talk about what is not: what could have been, but wasn’t, what never could have been, what should have been, what will be and could be and should be, and what can’t be, and what is altogether impossible.
-- But how can we talk about all these things?
I wanted a fantasy. There would be grass under a clear sky. It would be warm. There would be interesting stones. And we would walk under the sky and between the stones. He would tell me many things.
“What is the world, altogether, Alex?”
“The world?”
“This world.” And he would gesture towards the sky and the stone and the grass. “Yes, we must inquire deeply into this world. We must see all of it.”
When a person says something like this, he cannot smile enough. For the prospect of seeing each thing, must provoke in a person the greatest hope. This is like the prospect of being everywhere always. This is the prospect of being with God, because God is always with being (being is not without God). The joy is the joy of being taken up by the angels, so that the whole world becomes apparent, transparent. And the greatest joy would be to walk by his side -- someone beautiful and open and free, who is going to show us what is beautiful and open and free. The greatest joy would be this, to have someone patient, sincere, sympathetic, and wise, who is ready to offer us a view of the whole world through words. If this is your minister, God, then send him to me!
They say also that the sage is a homely, old man, who speaks slowly and with great confusion, who listens and grins and is content with little. He is a man of simple wit and infinite patience, who sits down on a rock to drink a cup of water in the shade. And occasionally the homely little man utters his homely little truth: “At a cheerful festival of the gods do not cut the withered from the quick upon that which has five branches with bright steel.” Perhaps he is sometimes profound, only because he cannot quite say what he means, but must blush and imply it. He is a farmer, and for this one life is growth, but also withering, and the sweat between them. And so his final word, is, “Sweat.” Sweat will keep you cool in the summers and warm in the winter. Suffer a little now to avoid greater pains. Glean what you can from the wind and the divine signs. Learn what works, learn what is propitious, and please those whose pleasure is our livelihood. Avoid extravagance and you will avoid poverty. Sweat, and be prudent.
Life is not dull, because it is painful enough, to keep our interest! We take our pain in installments, since this is preferable to receiving all of it at once. And sometimes, we indulge in a pleasure, and dart our eyes about, to make sure no one has noticed, or if anyone notices, to see whether he minds. We are timid and polite. This is economics.
-- What is there to talk about? Insofar as we know what there is to talk about, and how to talk about it, we will live well. -- I am looking up at the stars, and he is standing over me. I come back to myself. -- There is everything to say. I can mention each of my thoughts as I have them, since I can say whatever I think. -- But how many things are there to think about? You know that if two people were trapped together, they would wonder how much food there was to go around, while they were waiting to be rescued. And so if two people are forced, whether by themselves or by any other circumstance, to spend any amount of time together, they wonder how much conversation there is to go around, since just as the body hungers for food, so the mind hungers for conversation. So how much will we have to talk about? You and I, or any of us? What are the things we talk about? -- We talk about each other, and about ourselves, about what we are enjoying of suffering and what we want to enjoy and want not to suffer, and what pleasure and displeasure we have gotten from each other, and what the character of each person is, since that is what most pleases or displeases us, and we notice a great deal of things -- what a person is wearing, whether or not he looks ill, how it seems he feels. But we also talk with each other about everything it is we are doing to alleviate pain and satisfy desire -- and we are always giving each other the lay of the land, like scouts, who warn their armies by letting them know everything.
-- Well that is fine, people talk about a great many things -- and who could number them? Or is it possible to settle absolutely on the number of things we can talk about? -- But of course, we can talk about anything. And so there are as many things to talk about as there are things. -- But there is even more to talk about, if we can also talk about what is not: what could have been, but wasn’t, what never could have been, what should have been, what will be and could be and should be, and what can’t be, and what is altogether impossible.
-- But how can we talk about all these things?