Of And On BeliefsA Chapter by Stonz P. a translation from the lost diary of Aloysius Scherpule 06/11/1765 OF AND ON BELIEFS
My parents believed in one thing, my wife in another,
my children in nothing, and I in everything.
Beliefs cannot be the will and word of the
Creator (or your God). Belief means
something one believes in but what should
one believe in? The Creator does not decide what you believe in; if it did,
murder is justifiable as a consequence of creation. One does not require to venture beyond the
realms of Earth to find answers when the answers found on Earth have not been
successfully questioned. Moreover, these answers were not found everywhere but
have always been only known to few in mankind; especially to dwellers in lost Carcosa.
But history is mysterious: each passing instant
of future is forever fusing into the present and eternally transforming into
the past. Even as you read my words, each passing word is now part of your
history. And just as my words will soon be lost fragments in your memory, so have
those answers been forgotten or become lost . . . as is dim Carcosa.
The climate was unusually cold, given that it was March already: they were the days when my marriage was in its infancy; Elysium
and Elysius were not born yet, and money to have was next to none. I was to be
away for more than a year from my supportive, despaired wife in search of unknown
prospects to buy spices from the East, to bring back for hopeful business,
aboard the ‘Ältester Ein’ --- and much
before my ill-fated return when I was unknowingly abandoned in the then bountiful
but evil islands of Carcosa for many months, where I miraculously survived and
chanced upon some knowledge of their secret path towards the goal of humanity
on this Earth; subsequently, narrowly escaping, both, the opportunity of limitless
wisdom and the unfathomable menace of their mysterious and
malevolent, supernatural and faceless ruler, the
ill-famed King in Yellow. The ship made port for four hours at Rumidabad
to assemble more food and other supplies for the ensuing journey towards the
port of Bonbahia in Maharashtra. It was there, when all the sailors were warned
by the ship’s Kapitän to wander about only nearby or risk being left behind,
that I encountered three female mystics in a high sea-cave by the shore; this
ephemeral, surreal meeting, I assure you, was nothing but consciousness
altering.
The mystics signalled me to climb up the rocks
and sit with them. Intrigued, I climbed the rocks and greeted them. It was a
tiny eroded cave and a small fire was lit which kept it warm; other than that
there was nothing there. They were smoking a long, thin, carved wooden pipe,
filling it from an earthen bowl of crushed leaves which seemed to be the very
same leaves which grew in my native land but only greener and more fragrant.
One of them, mideal aged, refilled the pipe, offered it to me and lit it with
an aflamed stick upon my acceptance. As the smoke transfused with my blood,
that familiar serenity overcame me, but only with the sweetest taste, to which
I had been accustomed at home and wholly deprived of on the ship. I was quite
terrified when the eldest first spoke in my tongue. Upon my surprise they
heartily laughed and the youngest, though older than me, informed me that they
were travelling dervish mystics who journeyed through the world and had spent a
month in my homeland, Luvkrafteneim during their journeys. Eased now, also
eager to talk with them, and knowing I had only a few hours, I spoke with them
about my yearnings for ‘Truth’. Upon hearing what they had to offer on the
subject I felt an unprecedented nervous breakdown and confessed to them that
for most part of my adult life I had fooled myself into believing I had reached
the ‘age of reason’ but upon hearing their wisdom I had no option but to
absolve my long withstanding beliefs.
The eldest asked me, “When do you think you reached the age of reason?” I replied, “The
day I realised all the worth of this realm lies in its worthlessness.” Her next question not only shattered my ego in
an instant but also enlightened me: “Good,
but what did you do upon attaining it?”
It had me stunned in that finite, eye opening
moment. I realised whatever I had to say would be of no worth to the mystics;
actually would have no bearing towards any known meaning and purpose of life.
Amused at my newfound befuddlement, the mideal aged mystic offered me the pipe
again and the youngest told me to calm myself, let go of any inhibition and take
comfort in my melancholy, “The moment you
illusion yourself about the age of reason is merely the moment it is realised,
not attained.” I realised countless years, innumerable
months, and immeasurable nights had been lain to waste parading my pretentious enlightenment
when in truth I was only silently sinking myself deeper into the mires of
irrationality and further away from reason, itself. My grief-stricken fears
were gaining strength over me; I looked at the mystics helplessly, still unable
to utter a word. The mideal aged mystic finally offered her insight, “You may still reach it but you must know no
one knows when or how it can be reached, just that it can be and the journey
will only continue from there to beyond and infinity.” That one moment of finity bore more upon my
existence than those countless past moments of infinity. Tears streamed down my
face; indeed the unearthing of the false belief was heart-breaking but it was
also heart-mending. The fabric of truth had wiped the slate of my soul clean;
it was time to find new colours to write with.
After the Kapitän had rung the bell for
departure, I kissed the hands of each mystic, not knowing how to thank them for
showing me the path and offered them a welcoming home if they ever decided to
visit Luvkrafteneim. I took one last whiff from the pipe, bid the mystics
farewell and proceeded towards the ship.
Many colours have filled and washed off my
slate since and I still wonder: Will I ever
reach the age of reason?
I believe not. Often I wonder ‘What is age in truth?’
How does one reach an age? It is a meaningless
phrase; all know age cannot be reached, it just is; in fact, age is nothing but
an acceptable understanding of time. It is only because our definition of time
is constrained that our understanding of our age, and therefore our life too,
is constricted. How does one know when they are born? Are we born inside the
womb or outside it? We all have lived in our mother’s wombs, have we not?
Ancient sciences have proved birth to be in contrast with the varying phases of
the moon rather than the established cycle of day and night? If this holds
true, does age depend on a limited number of lunar cycles? Anyhow, how long
will one live, that certainly is uncertain. It is an exercise in futility to believe in
the importance of age, hence it is immaterial to believe in the exclusiveness
of the ‘Age of Reason’. What may seem the age of reason may well be the age of
folly. The only path to attain an age of reason is to journey with reason
through the ages. The journey is important and not the destination. If only it had not turned blind to their
great lessons, Carcosa would still be known and not be forgotten.
“There
is nothing to believe Only
when I quit believing in myself Did I
come to this beauty.”
-
Anonymous
The mystics also told me, “Beliefs which leave us wanting for more stem
from our ego.” My failures in different stages of life have
revealed to me that ego resides within us; it is not visible to the naked eye
but only to ones aware of their inner eye. It cannot be destroyed or created
but can only be channelised. Even the most enlightened mind can harbour an ego. Just as we are manifestations of Consciousness
on Earth, not Consciousness itself; need, greed, desire, pride, conceit,
arrogance, stubbornness, fear, jealousy, and sometimes even happiness: all are
manifestations of ego, not ego itself; they are symptoms which validate the
existence of the otherwise overlooked ego. Each of us undergoes a journey to discover our
soul, its distinction from our physical body and that the soul does not have an
ego, highlighting its needlessness for an identity and our pointlessness in
desiring one. The ego embodies and identifies itself with our own being to the
extent of duping us into believing its presence is but our own identity and
hence, our great need and dilemma of establishing our own identity. We begin
measuring our life’s goals through this identity and therein commences our yearning
of our own personalities, our insatiability for our own possessions, our entitlement
to our own personal spaces. Everyone has their own gauging scale but whose gauge
is right? Mine or yours, his or hers, everyone’s or no one’s? It is safe to conclude it is ego which fabricates
belief, for now each one needs their own beliefs, morals, principles, values,
ideologies, philosophies, faiths, dogmas, doctrines, vows, promises,
securities, and what not merely to establish their identity; but we all forget:
Identity cannot be established, it just
is; there is identity even where there is none. I may not know to what good must ego be used,
but it should not be used to cause hurt to someone. But maybe I am wrong. Who knows?
Beliefs, once, were used to achieve the means
of a satisfactory life, not epitomise the satisfaction itself. One does not
need to quit the company of loved ones to achieve a good, happy life; it can be
achieved therein too. Likewise, it is needless to occupy the company of loved
ones to achieve that life; it can be achieved thereof too. It all depends upon the
person and how reasonable their journey turns out to be. © 2019 Stonz P.Author's Note
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Stonz P.Lakhnau, IndiaAboutMust you even try to know a soul that has nothing to confide even if you deny it the right to be a fly be free free from your questioning eyes expecting cries when the soul is nothing but a .. more..Writing
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