divine postman: the clouds are resting on the mountain this morning. the air is cold with the wind floating from the grey clouds. my body tells me, that this is the perfect time to start a fire. but we are trapped in concrete, walls, and fences. there is no room to gather around a fire, and watch the beautiful morning ebbing away into the eternal mountains.
iAM reminded of the heat that burned us in the spring, demosthenes, as i behold the abundant rains in these early summer days. there is wisdom in nature, that will compensate the dry barren days with rich stores of rain. she remembers the days when the sweat was streaming on our faces; and cools our brows with the calming fog and the wise grey clouds.
these enchantments are medicinal, they sober and heal us. these are plain pleasures, demosthenes, kindly and native to us. we come to our own, and make friends with the trees, the birds, the mountain rocks. which the ambitious chatter of schools would persuade us to despise. there is a home that will give shelter to the lost ones, the rebels, the misfits.
demosthenes: we can never part with it, divine postman; the mind and the body loves its old home: as water to our thirst, so is the rock, the ground, to our eyes and hands and feet. it is firm water; it is cold flame; what health, what affinity! ever an old friend peopling the lonely places, effacing the scars of our mistakes and cruel disappointments. ever like a dear friend when we chat affectedly with strangers, comes in this honest face, and takes a grave liberty with us, and shames us out of our nonsense.
i emptied myself for the love of mankind; i laid my whole soul down because i believed in the native good in man. there is no rock i did not uncover, there is no mountain i did not climb, and there is no river i did not cross. i have seen it all under the sun, divine postman; from the good to the bad, from the light to the darkness; from heaven to hell i have traversed. and, now, i know, that there is no power greater than the infinite glory of love. no matter what deserts and fires i walk she holds me in her arms like a baby kissing away all the tears.
all those who oppose her will be destroyed; and all those who believe in her everlasting grace, regardless of the torments, the sorrows, and the calamity they have been inflicted with, will live to receive the crown that she prepared for them. oh! what is man, hera, that you make so much of him that you give him so much attention and test him every moment. search and never stop believing, divine postman, and the light that rose on the first dawn will break-through all darkness; and the spirit of pallas athene will descend upon you.
divine postman: the advancing man discovers how deep a property he has in literature,- in all fable as well as in all history. he finds that the poet was no odd fellow who described strange and impossible situations, but that universal man wrote by his pen a confession true for one and true for all. my own secret biography, demosthenes, i find in lines wonderfully intelligible to me, dotted down before i was born.
one after another i come up in my private adventures with every fable of homer, of hesiod, of ovid, of vergil, of milton and verify them with my own hands and feet. there is some awe mixed with the joy of our surprise, demosthenes, when this poet, who lived in some past world, five or ten thousand years ago, says that which lies close to my own soul, that which i also had well-nigh thought and said. but for the evidence thence afforded to the philosophical doctrine of the identity of all minds, we should suppose some pre-established harmony, some foresight of souls that were to be.
and some preparation of stores for their future wants, like the fact observed in insects, who lay up food before death for the young grub which they will never get to see. the living word will never fail us, my friend,- it is all that we need to succeed in the art of life. life can only be sourced from life. the individual man holds the greatest power in creation: the power to choose. he is the creator of his life and shapes it according to the decisions that he makes on a daily basis.
if a man can cause a baby to be born, he must possess the power to sustain him. oh! what a miracle it is to conceive and give birth to life in this world. however, demosthenes, before we decide to bring life into the firmament, let us first study nature and suckle the wisdom in the earth’s teat; the gracious clouds, the grass that grows, the rose that blooms steadily, the stars that shine in the night, will never fail to guide and instruct us in all our days under the sun and moon. it is good to forsake all things and love nature purely for the joy in her presence. the root of my being is in the roots of the earth.
the masses will only acknowledge nature when they receive something from her; they seek not to study her undying truth. thus they are plagued with unceasing toils because of their failure to accept grace. the lords of life, the lords of life, i saw them pass, demosthenes; in their own guise like and unlike, portly and grim, use and surprise; surface and dream, succession swift and spectral wrong temperament without a tongue. and the inventor of the game omnipresent without name; some to see, some to be guessed; they marched from east to west.
little man least of all, among the legs of his guardians tall walked about with puzzled look. him by the hand dear nature took; dearest nature strong and kind, whispered, ‘darling never mind! tomorrow they will wear another face, the founder thou! these are thy race!’ how lovely are these human hands that ever-so steadily create their own fate. let all men and all women and all children have faith in their story. it is no chance that you are on this earth, demosthenes; there is a unique purpose that you are called to fulfill. look to the abundant plants, each of them will yield a unique fruit and give life to all nations. our glory is in proportion to our obedience to time; heaven will never fail the patient.
demosthenes: patience is the great god that weaves in and out of all things beautiful. let us not be deceived by the dollar, divine postman, and believe that it is what grants all things. i will not sell the life in these hands and feet to airconditioned offices and crowded city streets. the village is the mind of heaven and earth, iAM called to live in community. it is most mournful to live for one’s own household; the world is one. we grow in unity, we die in isolation. a household will be charming in the beginning as the wife, the husband, and the children eagerly move in; but it ends in a headache.
every roof is agreeable to the eye until it is lifted; then we find tragedy and moaning women and hard-eyed husbands and rebellious children and deluges of lethe, and the men ask, “what’s the news?” as if the old were so bad. they cease to see the whole in each object, but perceive the sensual allurement of having a family, a home, and all the possessions that are required. thus remaining ignorant of the sensual hurt, that it will cost them their whole lives to maintain all these things. they see the mermaid’s tail, divine postman, but not the dragon’s head, and think that they can cut off that which they would have from that which they would not have.
a family and a home become an institution, the gain is apparent, and the tax is certain. the best decision i ever made was to sacrifice my seed in the fire. although, sorrowful it was, but the joy is everlast. oh! so free it is to give your seed to the earth, my friend; every season brings me the abundance of the waters of the ocean. it is wise to give your life to seek one sole wisdom and choose one sole good. the great star will justify all our labor and superabundantly reward us for the faith that we found in the journeys of the soul. the great laws of heaven and earth, i now behold, in the palm of my hand.
i have been writing for ten years now, divine postman, whoever wants to fight me will have to fight these tears. i believe in the might of love. i fully understand language and nourish well my vast flowing vigor. this vigor is supremely great and in the highest degree unbending. nourish it correctly, my friend, and do it no injury, and it will fill up the vacancy between heaven and earth. this vigor accords with and assists justice and reason, and leaves no hunger. it implores me everyday to express my curiosity, and search for the glory within, going as far as apollo ordained for me to go. suffice it for the joy of the gods that we have not arrived at a wall, but at interminable oceans.
divine postman: we are just ourselves in these mountains of matatiele; there is none to impress, there is nothing to boast about, there is only love. we will plant our vegetables and prune our trees; we will document the growth of the rose and the marigold; we will take our morning walk and thereafter sit with water to read and write; we will follow the seasons and obey the language of the peach tree, as it prepares us for the superabundant harvest. i will live and die by the truth, demosthenes. all the gold in the world will never buy a perfect contentment. my crown awaits me. it is good to suffer for the riches of the human soul and believe in the wisdom of the stars.
we must lose ourselves to find ourselves, my friend. the prophetess of delphi and the priestess at dodona are out of their minds, demosthenes, when they perform that fine work of theirs for the whole of greece, either for an individual person or for a whole city. but they accomplish little or nothing when they are in control of themselves. not to mention the sybil or the others who foretell many things by means of god-inspired prophetic trances and give sound guidance to many people. oh! how the mass of men have been deceived, denying the heaven within, as they labor for all that is fleeting. nature will humble us before she glorifies us commanding that i take the shoes from off my feet, to bow down before her wisdom. nature delights only in simplicity.
she cools the heels of the rushing city dwellers, and saith “this is my dominion, all the nonsense that you lived for in the city has no room in my presence.” it is simple what nature commands, my friend: it is either, we obey her immortal truth, or, we will die in ignorance and pride. i chose to be a tree, demosthenes, than to be a wall. a thrill passes through all men at the reception of new truth, or at the performance of a great action, which comes out of the heart of nature. the gods will take the long way round and inspire an eternal blaze in a man’s heart. every moment when the individual feels himself invaded by it, is memorable. in these divine communications the power to see is not seperated from the will to do. but the insight proceeds from obedience and the obedience proceeds from a joyful perception.
by the necessity of our constitution, demosthenes, a certain enthusiasm attends the individual’s consciousness of that glorious presence. the character and duration of this enthusiasm varies with the state of the individual, from an ecstasy and trance and prophetic inspiration,- which is its rarer appearance,- to the faintest glow of virtuous emotion, in which form it warms, all the families and associations of men, and makes society possible. a certain tendency to insanity has always attended the opening of a divine sense in men and women, as if they had been blasted with excess of light. and in all their days they give themselves wholly to the great light, that shepherds and guides with patience.
the people who designed our language in the old days never thought of madness as something to be ashamed of or worthy of blame. otherwise they would not have used the word ‘manic’ for the finest expert of all,- the crazy one who foretells the future,- thereby weaving insanity into prophecy. what is true, the ignorant will immediately label as being crazy. but when the seasons roll and time justifies the journey of the martyr, the fools are made to eat their words. the truth lives in the soul, demosthenes, and is writ in the heart of every mortal. all that was, all that is, and all that will be, is known by the soul and will only be revealed to us when we believe in the glory of the universal soul.
demosthenes: let man then learn the revelation of all nature and all thought to his heart; this, namely, that the highest dwells with him; that the sources of nature are in his own mind, if the sentimemt of duty is there. every soul in nature is immortal; that is because whatever is always in motion is immortal, while what moves, and is moved by, something else stops living when it stops moving. so it is only what moves itself that never desists from motion, since it does not leave off being itself.
in fact, this self-mover, divine postman, is also the source and spring of motion in everything else that moves. movement is the cause of life, and wisdom is the cause of movement. a source has no beginning and it has no ending, it is boundless and sublime as the waters of the ocean. anything that has a beginning comes from some source, but the soul has no source, it is eternal energy. a source that got its start from something else would no longer be a source. and since it cannot have a beginning, then necessarily it cannot be destroyed. if a source, my friend, were destroyed it could never get started again from anything else and nothing else could get started from it, that is, if everything gets started from a source.
this then is why, a self- mover is a source of motion. and that is incapable of being destroyed or starting up; otherwise all heaven and everything that has been started up would collapse, come to a sudden stop, and never have cause to start moving again. but since we have found that a self-mover is immortal, we should have no qualms, divine postman, in declaring, that this is the very essence and principle of a soul. for every bodily object that is moved from outside has no soul, while a body whose motion comes from within, from itself, does have a soul, that being the nature of the soul.
and if this is so,- that whatever moves itself is essentially a soul,- then it follows necessarily that soul should have neither birth nor death. it is impossible for the soul to be changed from the outside,- it will not move to excellent regions, divine postman, when the agent is motivated by external expectations. it is only when the man or the woman curls themselves up like a snail and dwells within, that the soul will be transformed and create a new kingdom. for the inmost in due time becomes the outmost. the seasons rule all things under the sun, and the work that the spring has started within, will be manifested in the immeasurably long summer. trust thyself, my friend, every heart vibrates to that iron-string. the great laws of heaven and earth will never fail thee.
divine postman: our lives need to be simple, that we will always have intercourse with our soul. the soul dies in clutter, and grows superabundantly in simplicity. the works of art that we treasure from antiquity are great because they embody the soul. they are immortal because they are inspired from within. it is only the works of nature that will endure for centuries. are you not cast into flesh by the wind, the fire, the waters, the rock, demosthenes? are you not the only great thing remaining that your mother left behind as her legacy? it is only what lives in time that will endure.
the sun and the moon is the mind of all things below, and when we dwell in the presence of osiris and isis, the solid doors within whose vaults our glory sleeps will be flung wide open. it is good to wait, my friend, for our glory will superabound and extend to the heavens above. let us not live in the shadow of another, demosthenes, but let our own light shine,- the great star is perfect in all of its rays. in proportion as a man has anything divine in him, the firmament flows before him and takes his signet and form. a patient love is a true love; hecate will not slumber nor will she forget the wise. the earth is the foundation of all things, and every deed done on her will be reciprocated by the heavens.
evil will be repaid with evil; good will be rewarded with greater good. it is only faith that sustains the human soul. all reform aims in some one particular to let the soul have its way through us; in other words, to engage us to obey, that we will love with the deathless ones. we must die to ourselves, demosthenes, to be one with the deathless gods who hold the peaks of snowy antarctica, and enjoy with them the divine pleasures. eros (love), fairest among the deathless gods, who unnerves the limbs and overcomes the minds and wise counsels of all gods and men, follows the wise who endure hardships with full patience. it is good to burn the past and believe in the superabundant future.
five is a perfect number; the journey we started will ripen into maturity and be the birth of a new era. life is one long conversation with ourselves and the people we are given to serve. there is a time in every man’s education, demosthenes, when he arrives at the conviction that envy is ignorance; that imitation is suicide; that he must accept himself for better for worse as his own portion. that though the wide universe is full of good, no kernel of nourishing corn can come to him but through his toil bestowed on that plot of ground which is given him to till. the power which resides in me is new to nature, and it is only me, alone, that knows what i can do best. iAM relieved and happy when i have put my whole heart into my work and done my best.
the riches in the waters of styx will only descend to the brave. oh! time, how you hold dominion over all things below; for it is you, alone, that will give a life and it is only you, that will take it away. you will uproot and tear down, as you please; and build again anew what is great and divine. all i know, demosthenes, is reception; iAM and i have: but i do not get and when i have fancied that i had gotten anything, i found i did not. i worship with wonder and awe and astonishment the great fortune. my reception has been so large, that iAM not annoyed by receiving this or that superabundantly. i say to the faithful genius, if he or she will not pardon the proverb, in for a mill, in for a million. what nature conceives she will complete; all the works of heaven and earth will grow in beauty with time. nature will create harmony, and never a dischord.
patience, patience, demosthenes, patience! we shall win at the very last, so sublime and glorious will our victory be that the critics will obey the truth and come to their senses. we must be very suspicious of the deceptions of the element of time. it takes a good deal of time to cook food, to do the washing, or to earn a thousand dollars; and a very little time to entertain a hope and an insight which becomes the light of our life. we dress our children, play with our dogs, walk to the supermarket, discuss the news, and these things make no impression, are forgotten next week! but, in the wise solitude to which every man and every woman is always returning to, there is a great sanity and revelations which in our passage into new worlds we will carry with us.
never mind the ridicule, demosthenes, never mind the passing defeat; up, again old heart! there is victory yet for all justice. and the true heaven which the world exists to realize will be the transformation of genius into practical power. i, the imperfect, will adore my own perfect; the perfect silence will always instruct; how deep we dwell in it, will determine how rich our revelations will be. a man can only learn through experience. before a baby walks it will first crawl; before it speaks a language it will first utter sounds. nature creates habits,- good and healthy habits that will sustain us in all our days under the sun and moon and the knowing star; for she makes known the end before the beginning and commands for our obedience. i live by grace.