November 7, 2022 • 21 mins
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(00:00):
Chapter six, Jacob Wrestles with God, Part one. I cannot relate in
brief all that I learned from thesingular musician Pastorious about Abraxas. The most
important result of his teaching was thatI made a further step forward on the
road to self realization. I wasthen about eighteen years old. I was
(00:24):
a young man rather out of theordinary, precocious in a hundred things and
in a hundred other things, backwardand helpless. When from time to time
I used to compare myself with others, I was often proud and conceited,
but just as frequently I felt depressedand humiliated. I had often looked upon
myself as a genius, often ashalf mad. I could not share the
(00:48):
pleasures and life of the fellows ofmy age, and often I heaped reproaches
on myself and was consumed with cares, thinking I was hopelessly cut off from
them, and that life was closedto me. Pastorius, himself full grown
and an eccentric, taught me topreserve my courage and my self esteem in
(01:11):
constantly finding some value in my words, in my dreams, in the play
of my imagination, and in myideas, In taking them seriously and discussing
them. He set me an exampleyou have told me. He said that
you like music because it is notmoral. Well, all right, but
you should be no moralist yourself.You should not compare yourself with others.
(01:34):
If nature had created you to bea bat, you ought not to want
to make yourself into an ostrich.You often consider yourself as singular. You
reproach yourself with going ways different frommost people. You must get out of
that habit. Look in the fire, look at the clouds, And as
soon as you have presentiments and thevoices of your soul begin to speak,
(01:57):
yield to them. And don't firstask what the opinion of your master or
your father would be, or whetherthey would be pleasing to some god or
other. One spoils one's self thatway. In doing that, one treads
the common road, becomes a fossil. Saint Clair, my dear fellow,
The name of our god is Abraxus. He is God, and he is
(02:22):
Satan. He has the light andthe dark world in him. Abraxis has
no objection to urge against any ofyour ideas or against any of your dreams.
Never forget that. But he desertsyou if you ever become blameless and
normal, he deserts you and seeksout another pot in order to cook his
(02:43):
ideas. Therein of all my dreams, that dark love dream recurred most frequently.
Often often have I dreamed of it. Often. I stepped under the
crest with the bird on it intomy house and wished to draw my mother
to me. But instead of her, I found I was embracing the tall,
manly, half motherly woman of whomI was afraid, and yet to
(03:07):
whom I was drawn by the mostardent desire. And I could never relate
this dream to my friend. Ikept it back, although I had opened
my heart to him on everything else. It was my secret, my retreat,
my refuge. When I was depressed, I used to beg Pistorius to
play me the Pessycaglia of the oldBuxter Hood. I sat in the dark
(03:31):
church in the evening, engrossed inthis singularly intimate music, which seemed to
be hearkening to itself, as ifentirely self absorbed. Each time it did
me good and made me more readyto follow the promptings of my inward self.
Sometimes we stayed awhile in the churchafter the strains of the organ had
(03:53):
died away, we sat and watchedthe feeble light shine through the high lancet
window. The light seemed to looseitself in the body of the church.
It sounds funny, said Pistorius,that I once did theology and almost became
a parson. But it was onlyan error in form that I committed to
be a priest. That is myvocation and my aim. Only I was
(04:16):
too easily satisfied, and gave myselfto the service of Jehovah before ever I
knew abraxast Ah. Every religion isbeautiful, religion is soul. It is
all one. Whether you take communionas a Christian, or whether you make
a pilgrimage to Mecca. Then reallyyou might have been a clergyman, I
(04:38):
suggested, no, Sinclair, No, I should have had to have lied
in that case. Our religion isso practiced as if it were none.
It is carried on as if itwere a work of the understanding. A
Catholic I could well be, ifneed were, but a Protestant clergyman.
(04:59):
No. There are two kinds ofgenuine believers I know, such who hold
gladly to the literal interpretation. Icould not say to them that for me
Christ was not a mere person,but a hero, a myth, a
wonderful shadow picture in which mankind seesitself painted on the wall of eternity.
(05:19):
And what should I find to sayto the other sort, those who go
to church to hear wise words,to fulfill a duty, to leave nothing
undone, et cetera. Convert them, you think, perhaps, But that
is not at all my idea.The priest does not wish to convert.
He only wants to live among thebelievers, among those of his own kind,
(05:43):
so that through him they may findexpression for the feeling out of which
we make our gods. He brokeoff. Then he continued, our new
faith for which we have now chosen. The name of Abraxis is beautiful,
my friend. It is the bestwe have. But it is still a
nestling. Its wings have not yetgrown alas a lonely religion that is not
(06:09):
yet the true one. It mustbecome an affair of many. It must
have cult and orgy, feasts andmysteries. He was sunk in reflection.
Can one not celebrate mysteries alone orin a very small circle? I asked
hesitatingly, Yes, one can,he nodded. I have been celebrating them
(06:32):
for a long time past. Ihave celebrated cults for which I should have
been imprisoned for years in a convictstation if they had been found out.
But I know it is not theright thing. He suddenly clapped me on
the shoulder, making me jump.Young friend, he said impressively, you
also have mysteries. I know thatyou must have dreams of which you make
(06:56):
no mention to me. I don'twish to know them, but I tell
you live them. These dreams playyour destined part, build altars to them.
It is not yet the perfect religion, but it is a way whether
you and I and a few otherpeople will one day renew. The world
remains to be seen, but wemust renew it daily within us, otherwise
(07:18):
we are of no account. Thinkit over. You are eighteen, Sinclair.
You don't go with loose women.You must have love dreams, desires.
Perhaps they are such that you arefrightened by them. They are the
best you have. Believe me,I have lost a great deal by doing
violence to those love dreams when Iwas your age. One should not do
(07:43):
that when one knows of Abraxus.One should do that no more. We
should fear nothing. We should holdnothing forbidden which the soul in us desires
frightened. I object it. Butyou can't do everything which comes into your
mind. You can't murder a manbecause you can't tolerate him, he pressed
(08:05):
closer to me. There are caseswhen you can only generally, it is
a mistake. I don't mean thatyou can simply do everything which comes into
your mind. No, But youshouldn't do injury to those ideas in which
there is sense. You shouldn't banishthem from your mind or moralized about them.
(08:26):
Instead of getting oneself crucified or crucifyingothers, one can solemnly drink wine
out of a cup, thinking thewhile on the mystery of sacrifice. One
can, without such actions, treatone's impulses and one's so called temptations with
esteem and love. Then you discovertheir meaning, and they all have meaning.
(08:50):
Next time the idea takes you todo something really mad and sinful,
Sinclair, if you would like tomurder someone or do something dreadfully obscene,
then think a moment that it isAbraxas who is indulging in a play of
fancy. The man you would liketo kill is never really mister So and
so, that is really only adisguise. When we hate a man,
(09:13):
we hate in him something which residesin us ourselves. What is not in
us does not move us. Neverhad Pastorius said anything to me which went
home so deeply as this. Icould not reply. But what moved me
most singularly and most powerfully was thatPastorius, in this conversation, had struck
(09:35):
the same note as Damien, whosewords I had carried in my mind for
years and years past. They knewnothing of one another, and both said
to me the same thing. Thethings we see, said Pastorius softly,
are the same things which are inus. There is no reality except that
which we have in ourselves. Forthat reason, most people live so unreally,
(10:01):
because they hold the impressions of theoutside world for real, and their
own world in themselves never enters intotheir consideration. You can be happy like
that, but if once you knowof the other, then you no longer
have the choice to go the waymost people go. Sinclair. The road
for most people is easy. Oursis hard. Let us go. A
(10:26):
few days later, after I hadon two occasions waited for him in Vain.
I met him late one evening inthe street. He came stumbling round
a corner, blown along by thecold night wind. He was very drunk.
I did not like to call him. He passed by without noticing me,
staring in front of him with strangeglowing eyes, as though he were
(10:48):
moving in obedience to a dark callfrom the unknown. I followed him down
one street. He drifted along,as if drawn by an invisible wire,
with the swaying gait of a fanatic, or like a ghost. Sadly,
I went home to the unsolved problemsof my dreams. Thus he renews the
(11:09):
world in himself. I thought,and felt instantly that my thought was base
and moral. What did I knowof his dreams? Perhaps in his intoxication
he was going a surer way thanin my anxiety. In the intervals between
lessons, it struck me once ortwice that a boy who had never before
(11:31):
attracted my notice was hovering about inmy proximity. It was a little,
weak looking, slim youngster with reddishblonde, thin hair, who had something
peculiar in his look and behavior.One evening, as I came home,
he was on the watch for me. In the street. He let me
pass by, then walked behind meand remained standing in front of the door
(11:54):
of the house. Can I doanything for you? I asked. They
want to speak to you, hesaid, timidly, be good enough to
come a few steps with me.I followed him, observing that he was
deeply excited and full of expectation.His hands trembled. Are you a spiritualist,
(12:16):
he asked, quite suddenly. Nocanour, I said, laughing,
not a bit. How did youget hold of that idea? But you
are a theosophist? No again,Oh, please, don't be so reserved.
I feel with absolute certitude that thereis something singular about you. It
(12:37):
is in your eyes, I thought, it's certain you communed with spirits.
I am not asking out of curiosity, Sinclair, No, I am myself
a seeker, you know, andI am so lonely. Tell me,
then, I encouraged him. Iknow absolutely nothing of ghosts. I live
in my dreams. That is whatyou have felt about me. Are the
(12:58):
people will live in dreams as well, but not in their own That is
the difference. Yes, perhaps,so, he whispered. Only it depends
on the sort of dreams you livein. Have you ever heard of white
magic? I had to admit myignorance. It's when you learn to get
the mastery over yourself, you canbe immortal and have magical powers as well.
(13:22):
Have you never practiced such experiments?On my evincing curiosity With regard to
those practices, he was mysteriously silent, but when I turned to go,
he burst out in explanation. Forexample, when I go to sleep,
or when I wish to concentrate mythoughts, I do such exercises. I
(13:43):
think of something or other, aword, for instance, or a name
or a geometrical figure. Then Ithink it into myself as strongly as I
can. I try to get itinto my head until I feel it is
there. Then I think it inmy neck, and so on until I
am quite full of it. Thenmy thoughts are concentrated and nothing more can
(14:05):
disturb my repose. I understood toa certain degree what he meant, yet
I felt he had something else inhis mind. He was oddly excited and
hasty. I tried to make thequestions easy for him, and he soon
gave me an indication of what immediatelyconcerned him. You are also continent,
(14:26):
he asked me, anxiously. Whatdo you mean by that? Do you
mean it from the sex point ofview? Yes? Yes, I have
been continent for two years since Iknew of what I have told you before
that I practiced of ice. Youknow what, you've never been with a
woman, then, no, Isaid, I haven't found the right one.
(14:48):
But if you should find her theone you consider the right one,
then would you sleep with her?Yes, naturally, if she had nothing
against it, I said, withsome scorn, Oh, you are on
a false track. One can onlyperfect one's inner forces if one remains entirely
continent. I have done it fortwo whole years, two years and a
(15:09):
little more than a month. Ohso hard. Often I can scarcely hold
out any longer. Listen, canhour? I don't believe that continency is
so terribly important. I know heparried. They all say that, but
I did not expect to hear itfrom you. Whoever will go the higher
(15:30):
spiritual way must remain pure unconditionally.Well, then do so. But I
don't understand why one man should bepurer than another because he represses his sex
instincts? Or can you switch offall sexual matters from your thoughts and dreams.
He looked despairingly at me. No, that's just it, God,
(15:52):
And yet it must be. Atnight I have dreams which I couldn't relate
even to myself, terrible dreams,terrible. I recollected what Pastorius had said
to me, but however much Ifelt his words to be right, I
could not pass them on. Icould not give advice which did not result
from my own experience, advised theobservance of which I did not yet feel
(16:17):
myself equal to. I was silentand felt humiliated that some one should come
to me for counsel when I hadnone to give. I have tried everything
wailed can hour beside me. Ihave done all that a man can do
with cold water, with snow,with gymnastic exercises and running, But all
(16:37):
that doesn't help a bit. Eachnight I wake up out of dreams on
which I dare not think, andmost dreadful of all, I am,
by degrees losing everything that I hadgained. Spiritually. It is almost impossible
for me any longer to concentrate mythoughts or to lull myself to sleep.
Often I lie awake the whole nightthrough I shall not be able to bear
(17:00):
that much longer. Finally, whenI can carry on the struggle no further,
when I give in and make myselfimpure again, then I shall be
worse than all the others who havenever struggled against it. You understand that,
don't you. I nodded, butcould say nothing to the point he
began to bore me, and Iwas horrified at myself because his obvious need
(17:22):
and despair made no deep impression onme. My only sentiment was I can't
help you. Then you know nothingthat would help me? He asked at
last, exhausted and said nothing atall. There must be some way.
How do you manage? I can'ttell you anything an hour. People can't
(17:45):
help one another. In this case, no one has helped me either.
You must think of something yourself,and you must obey the prompting, which
really comes from your own nature.There is nothing else. If you cannot
find yourself, you won't find anyspirit either. Disappointed and suddenly become dumb,
the little fellow looked at me.Then his look suddenly glowed with hate.
(18:07):
He made a grimace at me andcried with rage. Ah, you're
a nice sort of saint. Youhave your vice as well. I know
you pretend to wisdom, and secretlyyou stick in the same filth as I
and all of us. You're swine, swine like myself, we're all swine.
I went away and left him standingthere. He made two three steps
(18:30):
in my direction, then he stopped, turned round and ran away. I
felt sick from a feeling of pityand horror. I could not get rid
of the feeling until I got hometo my little room, and placing my
few pictures before me, I surrenderedmyself up with passionate fervor to my dreams.
My dreams came back at once,the dream of front door and crest
(18:53):
of mother and the strange woman.And I saw the features of the woman
so very clearly that I again todraw her picture the same evening. In
a few days, this drawing wasfinished, painted in as if unconsciously,
in dreamy quarter of an hour periodsin the evening. I hung it on
(19:15):
the wall, put the reading lampin front of it, and stood before
it as before a spirit with whomI had to fight until victory should be
decided one way or the other.It was a face similar to the former,
resembling my friend Damien in certain traits, even resembling myself. One eye
stood perceptibly higher than the other.The look passed over me, sunk in
(19:37):
a staring gaze, full of destiny. I stood before it. Such was
my inward exertion that I became coldto the marrow. I questioned the picture,
I abused it, I caressed it, I prayed to it. I
called it mother, I called itbeloved, I called it strumpet, and
horror called it a bras exus.Meanwhile, words of Pastorius crossed my mind,
(20:03):
or of Damien. I could notrecollect on what occasion they had been
spoken, but I thought I heardthem again. They were the words of
Jacob wrestling with the angel of God. I will not let thee go except
thou bless me. The painted facein the lamp light changed at each appeal.
It was bright and shiny, wasblack and gloomy. It closed pale
(20:27):
lids over dead eyes, opened themagain, and flashed a burning look.
It was a woman, man,girl, It was a little child,
an animal vanished to a speck,was again tall and clear. At last,
in response to a strong inward prompting, I closed my eyes and saw
the picture inwardly in me stronger andmore powerful. I wished to kneel down
(20:52):
before it, but it was somuch within me that I could separate it
from myself no more. It seemedas if it had entirely identified itself with
me. Then I heard aloud,confused roar, as of a spring storm.
I trembled in an indescribably new feelingof fear and excitement. Stars darted
before me and died out. Recollectionseven of the first forgotten years of my
(21:18):
childhood, of a time further backstill, of a pre existence, and
the early stages of existence pressed throughme. But the recollections, which seemed
to piece together my life's whole history, even to its most secret details,
did not cease with yesterday and today. They went further mirrored the future,
tearing me away from to day,changing me into new forms of life,
(21:42):
of which the pictures were very brightand blinding. But of none of them
could I call up a just image. Later end of chapter six, Part
one, Jacob rustles with God
Chapter six, Jacob Wrestles with God, Part one. I cannot relate in
brief all that I learned from thesingular musician Pastorious about Abraxas. The most
important result of his teaching was thatI made a further step forward on the
road to self realization. I wasthen about eighteen years old. I was
(00:24):
a young man rather out of theordinary, precocious in a hundred things and
in a hundred other things, backwardand helpless. When from time to time
I used to compare myself with others, I was often proud and conceited,
but just as frequently I felt depressedand humiliated. I had often looked upon
myself as a genius, often ashalf mad. I could not share the
(00:48):
pleasures and life of the fellows ofmy age, and often I heaped reproaches
on myself and was consumed with cares, thinking I was hopelessly cut off from
them, and that life was closedto me. Pastorius, himself full grown
and an eccentric, taught me topreserve my courage and my self esteem in
(01:11):
constantly finding some value in my words, in my dreams, in the play
of my imagination, and in myideas, In taking them seriously and discussing
them. He set me an exampleyou have told me. He said that
you like music because it is notmoral. Well, all right, but
you should be no moralist yourself.You should not compare yourself with others.
(01:34):
If nature had created you to bea bat, you ought not to want
to make yourself into an ostrich.You often consider yourself as singular. You
reproach yourself with going ways different frommost people. You must get out of
that habit. Look in the fire, look at the clouds, And as
soon as you have presentiments and thevoices of your soul begin to speak,
(01:57):
yield to them. And don't firstask what the opinion of your master or
your father would be, or whetherthey would be pleasing to some god or
other. One spoils one's self thatway. In doing that, one treads
the common road, becomes a fossil. Saint Clair, my dear fellow,
The name of our god is Abraxus. He is God, and he is
(02:22):
Satan. He has the light andthe dark world in him. Abraxis has
no objection to urge against any ofyour ideas or against any of your dreams.
Never forget that. But he desertsyou if you ever become blameless and
normal, he deserts you and seeksout another pot in order to cook his
(02:43):
ideas. Therein of all my dreams, that dark love dream recurred most frequently.
Often often have I dreamed of it. Often. I stepped under the
crest with the bird on it intomy house and wished to draw my mother
to me. But instead of her, I found I was embracing the tall,
manly, half motherly woman of whomI was afraid, and yet to
(03:07):
whom I was drawn by the mostardent desire. And I could never relate
this dream to my friend. Ikept it back, although I had opened
my heart to him on everything else. It was my secret, my retreat,
my refuge. When I was depressed, I used to beg Pistorius to
play me the Pessycaglia of the oldBuxter Hood. I sat in the dark
(03:31):
church in the evening, engrossed inthis singularly intimate music, which seemed to
be hearkening to itself, as ifentirely self absorbed. Each time it did
me good and made me more readyto follow the promptings of my inward self.
Sometimes we stayed awhile in the churchafter the strains of the organ had
(03:53):
died away, we sat and watchedthe feeble light shine through the high lancet
window. The light seemed to looseitself in the body of the church.
It sounds funny, said Pistorius,that I once did theology and almost became
a parson. But it was onlyan error in form that I committed to
be a priest. That is myvocation and my aim. Only I was
(04:16):
too easily satisfied, and gave myselfto the service of Jehovah before ever I
knew abraxast Ah. Every religion isbeautiful, religion is soul. It is
all one. Whether you take communionas a Christian, or whether you make
a pilgrimage to Mecca. Then reallyyou might have been a clergyman, I
(04:38):
suggested, no, Sinclair, No, I should have had to have lied
in that case. Our religion isso practiced as if it were none.
It is carried on as if itwere a work of the understanding. A
Catholic I could well be, ifneed were, but a Protestant clergyman.
(04:59):
No. There are two kinds ofgenuine believers I know, such who hold
gladly to the literal interpretation. Icould not say to them that for me
Christ was not a mere person,but a hero, a myth, a
wonderful shadow picture in which mankind seesitself painted on the wall of eternity.
(05:19):
And what should I find to sayto the other sort, those who go
to church to hear wise words,to fulfill a duty, to leave nothing
undone, et cetera. Convert them, you think, perhaps, But that
is not at all my idea.The priest does not wish to convert.
He only wants to live among thebelievers, among those of his own kind,
(05:43):
so that through him they may findexpression for the feeling out of which
we make our gods. He brokeoff. Then he continued, our new
faith for which we have now chosen. The name of Abraxis is beautiful,
my friend. It is the bestwe have. But it is still a
nestling. Its wings have not yetgrown alas a lonely religion that is not
(06:09):
yet the true one. It mustbecome an affair of many. It must
have cult and orgy, feasts andmysteries. He was sunk in reflection.
Can one not celebrate mysteries alone orin a very small circle? I asked
hesitatingly, Yes, one can,he nodded. I have been celebrating them
(06:32):
for a long time past. Ihave celebrated cults for which I should have
been imprisoned for years in a convictstation if they had been found out.
But I know it is not theright thing. He suddenly clapped me on
the shoulder, making me jump.Young friend, he said impressively, you
also have mysteries. I know thatyou must have dreams of which you make
(06:56):
no mention to me. I don'twish to know them, but I tell
you live them. These dreams playyour destined part, build altars to them.
It is not yet the perfect religion, but it is a way whether
you and I and a few otherpeople will one day renew. The world
remains to be seen, but wemust renew it daily within us, otherwise
(07:18):
we are of no account. Thinkit over. You are eighteen, Sinclair.
You don't go with loose women.You must have love dreams, desires.
Perhaps they are such that you arefrightened by them. They are the
best you have. Believe me,I have lost a great deal by doing
violence to those love dreams when Iwas your age. One should not do
(07:43):
that when one knows of Abraxus.One should do that no more. We
should fear nothing. We should holdnothing forbidden which the soul in us desires
frightened. I object it. Butyou can't do everything which comes into your
mind. You can't murder a manbecause you can't tolerate him, he pressed
(08:05):
closer to me. There are caseswhen you can only generally, it is
a mistake. I don't mean thatyou can simply do everything which comes into
your mind. No, But youshouldn't do injury to those ideas in which
there is sense. You shouldn't banishthem from your mind or moralized about them.
(08:26):
Instead of getting oneself crucified or crucifyingothers, one can solemnly drink wine
out of a cup, thinking thewhile on the mystery of sacrifice. One
can, without such actions, treatone's impulses and one's so called temptations with
esteem and love. Then you discovertheir meaning, and they all have meaning.
(08:50):
Next time the idea takes you todo something really mad and sinful,
Sinclair, if you would like tomurder someone or do something dreadfully obscene,
then think a moment that it isAbraxas who is indulging in a play of
fancy. The man you would liketo kill is never really mister So and
so, that is really only adisguise. When we hate a man,
(09:13):
we hate in him something which residesin us ourselves. What is not in
us does not move us. Neverhad Pastorius said anything to me which went
home so deeply as this. Icould not reply. But what moved me
most singularly and most powerfully was thatPastorius, in this conversation, had struck
(09:35):
the same note as Damien, whosewords I had carried in my mind for
years and years past. They knewnothing of one another, and both said
to me the same thing. Thethings we see, said Pastorius softly,
are the same things which are inus. There is no reality except that
which we have in ourselves. Forthat reason, most people live so unreally,
(10:01):
because they hold the impressions of theoutside world for real, and their
own world in themselves never enters intotheir consideration. You can be happy like
that, but if once you knowof the other, then you no longer
have the choice to go the waymost people go. Sinclair. The road
for most people is easy. Oursis hard. Let us go. A
(10:26):
few days later, after I hadon two occasions waited for him in Vain.
I met him late one evening inthe street. He came stumbling round
a corner, blown along by thecold night wind. He was very drunk.
I did not like to call him. He passed by without noticing me,
staring in front of him with strangeglowing eyes, as though he were
(10:48):
moving in obedience to a dark callfrom the unknown. I followed him down
one street. He drifted along,as if drawn by an invisible wire,
with the swaying gait of a fanatic, or like a ghost. Sadly,
I went home to the unsolved problemsof my dreams. Thus he renews the
(11:09):
world in himself. I thought,and felt instantly that my thought was base
and moral. What did I knowof his dreams? Perhaps in his intoxication
he was going a surer way thanin my anxiety. In the intervals between
lessons, it struck me once ortwice that a boy who had never before
(11:31):
attracted my notice was hovering about inmy proximity. It was a little,
weak looking, slim youngster with reddishblonde, thin hair, who had something
peculiar in his look and behavior.One evening, as I came home,
he was on the watch for me. In the street. He let me
pass by, then walked behind meand remained standing in front of the door
(11:54):
of the house. Can I doanything for you? I asked. They
want to speak to you, hesaid, timidly, be good enough to
come a few steps with me.I followed him, observing that he was
deeply excited and full of expectation.His hands trembled. Are you a spiritualist,
(12:16):
he asked, quite suddenly. Nocanour, I said, laughing,
not a bit. How did youget hold of that idea? But you
are a theosophist? No again,Oh, please, don't be so reserved.
I feel with absolute certitude that thereis something singular about you. It
(12:37):
is in your eyes, I thought, it's certain you communed with spirits.
I am not asking out of curiosity, Sinclair, No, I am myself
a seeker, you know, andI am so lonely. Tell me,
then, I encouraged him. Iknow absolutely nothing of ghosts. I live
in my dreams. That is whatyou have felt about me. Are the
(12:58):
people will live in dreams as well, but not in their own That is
the difference. Yes, perhaps,so, he whispered. Only it depends
on the sort of dreams you livein. Have you ever heard of white
magic? I had to admit myignorance. It's when you learn to get
the mastery over yourself, you canbe immortal and have magical powers as well.
(13:22):
Have you never practiced such experiments?On my evincing curiosity With regard to
those practices, he was mysteriously silent, but when I turned to go,
he burst out in explanation. Forexample, when I go to sleep,
or when I wish to concentrate mythoughts, I do such exercises. I
(13:43):
think of something or other, aword, for instance, or a name
or a geometrical figure. Then Ithink it into myself as strongly as I
can. I try to get itinto my head until I feel it is
there. Then I think it inmy neck, and so on until I
am quite full of it. Thenmy thoughts are concentrated and nothing more can
(14:05):
disturb my repose. I understood toa certain degree what he meant, yet
I felt he had something else inhis mind. He was oddly excited and
hasty. I tried to make thequestions easy for him, and he soon
gave me an indication of what immediatelyconcerned him. You are also continent,
(14:26):
he asked me, anxiously. Whatdo you mean by that? Do you
mean it from the sex point ofview? Yes? Yes, I have
been continent for two years since Iknew of what I have told you before
that I practiced of ice. Youknow what, you've never been with a
woman, then, no, Isaid, I haven't found the right one.
(14:48):
But if you should find her theone you consider the right one,
then would you sleep with her?Yes, naturally, if she had nothing
against it, I said, withsome scorn, Oh, you are on
a false track. One can onlyperfect one's inner forces if one remains entirely
continent. I have done it fortwo whole years, two years and a
(15:09):
little more than a month. Ohso hard. Often I can scarcely hold
out any longer. Listen, canhour? I don't believe that continency is
so terribly important. I know heparried. They all say that, but
I did not expect to hear itfrom you. Whoever will go the higher
(15:30):
spiritual way must remain pure unconditionally.Well, then do so. But I
don't understand why one man should bepurer than another because he represses his sex
instincts? Or can you switch offall sexual matters from your thoughts and dreams.
He looked despairingly at me. No, that's just it, God,
(15:52):
And yet it must be. Atnight I have dreams which I couldn't relate
even to myself, terrible dreams,terrible. I recollected what Pastorius had said
to me, but however much Ifelt his words to be right, I
could not pass them on. Icould not give advice which did not result
from my own experience, advised theobservance of which I did not yet feel
(16:17):
myself equal to. I was silentand felt humiliated that some one should come
to me for counsel when I hadnone to give. I have tried everything
wailed can hour beside me. Ihave done all that a man can do
with cold water, with snow,with gymnastic exercises and running, But all
(16:37):
that doesn't help a bit. Eachnight I wake up out of dreams on
which I dare not think, andmost dreadful of all, I am,
by degrees losing everything that I hadgained. Spiritually. It is almost impossible
for me any longer to concentrate mythoughts or to lull myself to sleep.
Often I lie awake the whole nightthrough I shall not be able to bear
(17:00):
that much longer. Finally, whenI can carry on the struggle no further,
when I give in and make myselfimpure again, then I shall be
worse than all the others who havenever struggled against it. You understand that,
don't you. I nodded, butcould say nothing to the point he
began to bore me, and Iwas horrified at myself because his obvious need
(17:22):
and despair made no deep impression onme. My only sentiment was I can't
help you. Then you know nothingthat would help me? He asked at
last, exhausted and said nothing atall. There must be some way.
How do you manage? I can'ttell you anything an hour. People can't
(17:45):
help one another. In this case, no one has helped me either.
You must think of something yourself,and you must obey the prompting, which
really comes from your own nature.There is nothing else. If you cannot
find yourself, you won't find anyspirit either. Disappointed and suddenly become dumb,
the little fellow looked at me.Then his look suddenly glowed with hate.
(18:07):
He made a grimace at me andcried with rage. Ah, you're
a nice sort of saint. Youhave your vice as well. I know
you pretend to wisdom, and secretlyyou stick in the same filth as I
and all of us. You're swine, swine like myself, we're all swine.
I went away and left him standingthere. He made two three steps
(18:30):
in my direction, then he stopped, turned round and ran away. I
felt sick from a feeling of pityand horror. I could not get rid
of the feeling until I got hometo my little room, and placing my
few pictures before me, I surrenderedmyself up with passionate fervor to my dreams.
My dreams came back at once,the dream of front door and crest
(18:53):
of mother and the strange woman.And I saw the features of the woman
so very clearly that I again todraw her picture the same evening. In
a few days, this drawing wasfinished, painted in as if unconsciously,
in dreamy quarter of an hour periodsin the evening. I hung it on
(19:15):
the wall, put the reading lampin front of it, and stood before
it as before a spirit with whomI had to fight until victory should be
decided one way or the other.It was a face similar to the former,
resembling my friend Damien in certain traits, even resembling myself. One eye
stood perceptibly higher than the other.The look passed over me, sunk in
(19:37):
a staring gaze, full of destiny. I stood before it. Such was
my inward exertion that I became coldto the marrow. I questioned the picture,
I abused it, I caressed it, I prayed to it. I
called it mother, I called itbeloved, I called it strumpet, and
horror called it a bras exus.Meanwhile, words of Pastorius crossed my mind,
(20:03):
or of Damien. I could notrecollect on what occasion they had been
spoken, but I thought I heardthem again. They were the words of
Jacob wrestling with the angel of God. I will not let thee go except
thou bless me. The painted facein the lamp light changed at each appeal.
It was bright and shiny, wasblack and gloomy. It closed pale
(20:27):
lids over dead eyes, opened themagain, and flashed a burning look.
It was a woman, man,girl, It was a little child,
an animal vanished to a speck,was again tall and clear. At last,
in response to a strong inward prompting, I closed my eyes and saw
the picture inwardly in me stronger andmore powerful. I wished to kneel down
(20:52):
before it, but it was somuch within me that I could separate it
from myself no more. It seemedas if it had entirely identified itself with
me. Then I heard aloud,confused roar, as of a spring storm.
I trembled in an indescribably new feelingof fear and excitement. Stars darted
before me and died out. Recollectionseven of the first forgotten years of my
(21:18):
childhood, of a time further backstill, of a pre existence, and
the early stages of existence pressed throughme. But the recollections, which seemed
to piece together my life's whole history, even to its most secret details,
did not cease with yesterday and today. They went further mirrored the future,
tearing me away from to day,changing me into new forms of life,
(21:42):
of which the pictures were very brightand blinding. But of none of them
could I call up a just image. Later end of chapter six, Part
one, Jacob rustles with God
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