by Unknown
“He was neither a God nor a prophet,” said Stefan, “and yet he was the chosen one to see things divine and eternal and show them to his equals.” And he continued, “He didn’t prophesise the future, but he did see and show the things that always have and always will remain unchanged and untouched since the beginning of time and he proved to people just how much they had overestimated not only the findings of science, but also the spiritual potential of their ‘antennas’. He saw, not with his physical eyes, but with the eyes of his heart, and taught in such a way that nobody ever asked for evidence or doubted him. Because what he showed people, what he taught them, was one of these things that can’t be proven empirically, like God or love… In order for someone to understand it, a whole different path must be taken and a whole different level of faith must be attained…”
I recall what Lain told me one day: “The further people remove themselves from such values, the harder it becomes for them to one day find a way to comprehend them. If you forget it, it will forget you.”
From what I understood, the path that leads to the understanding of these things has to do with the inner evolution of our biological species. It is a path that was completely inexistent in my era—the era of one-sided science and technology—a path that could have only been paved by those insightful and visionary men and women of the Aidersen Institute, which is exactly what happened, around the year 790 of their chronology.
THE STORY OF COSTIA RODULOF
17-VII
(In Latharmi again)
I didn’t go anywhere else today and I truly wish I could stay here longer, to lose myself among the rosebushes and find shelter in the shade. I’m by myself. Every once in a while I see passers-by and foreign pilgrims make their way through the flowers, looking for some solitude. I hastily jot down my impressions. I’m taking it all in: this beautiful view, this amazing feeling, this magical colour of the rose petals, this wonderful fragrance so generously wafting in the wind. All this makes me relive the moments of my past life, my normal life…
Parents narrate to their children the story of 1086 (3482 AD), the story of the old man, Costia Rodulof, and that spring morning when the leaves of this incredible plant opened for the first time and human eyes saw that rose petals reflecting the “pale blue sky”.
The little unge, Lelia, knows the true story of Costia. According to her, the seventy-year-old florist was a holy man who adored children and flowers. Birds used to land on his shoulders and drink water from his hands. He lost his only child when it was only five. After that tragic incident, he dedicated his life to relieving human suffering. The mature now florist once had the vision to create the blue roses, which now decorate the streets of Latharmi, for the first time in rose-breeding history.
For several decades, says Lelia, this holy man gathered seeds and planted them, trying thousands of different combinations in order to achieve the desired result. For years and years he planted and replanted, he changed soils, he changed countries, but in vain! Eventually he despaired of trying…
Half a century had passed when, one day, two bright rosebuds attracted the attention of three passers-by in Generali. “Who does this garden belong to?” the passers-by asked some Mindre skole children who were playing around there. A couple of them were startled at the sight of the blooming roses. It had been drizzling all day and the sky was full of heavy black clouds. Before you knew it, a crowd of people, teachers, florists, gardeners, craftsmen, ordinary people who happened to be passing by the garden, had gathered around the rosebush and were staring at its blossoms. The children played truant, the passers-by ignored the rain; no one could stop staring at the miracle. It was as if the light that had been hiding behind the threatening clouds had found shelter in the petals of these roses.
Some people went to call Costia Rodulof. The crowd had surrounded the rosebush but none would get closer to it until old Costia arrived. They showed him the rosebuds. He didn’t say a word. He stretched out his trembling right hand and, as soon as he touched them, he burst into tears. It was the dream of a lifetime for the florist. A little girl said: “Mary-Lea sent them to us for the 100thanniversary of her death!”
After that day everyone tried planting those seeds in different combinations in their own gardens all around town, but in vain; they never bloomed. A few months later, the same seeds bloomed in a random place.
The legend says that these roses can only grow in places where great spirits have lived and where great loves have blossomed... The petals of these roses don’t open anywhere else no matter how favourable the weather conditions and no matter how hard one tries; following all the rules, using the best materials or taking care of them every day are to no avail. Not even the specialists in floriculture have managed to discover the “secret” in growing these magical roses that reflect the light of day and the colour of the sky.
STATUES OF THE FUTURE
18-VII
Today I left at dawn and walked around by myself all morning. I spent most of my time at the Pantheon, looking for the statues of the “moderns” this time.
I still remember several names from the ones I came across in there. In the corners of the Pantheon I discovered significant figures of the 20th century that were still unknown in my time. I’m trying to recall what each of them did that made them famous from the stories of Lain, Astrucci and Cornelius. While looking at the inscriptions on the pedestals, I was struggling to find the missing pieces from the puzzle that had been created in my mind from all the books that I had read and all the classes that I had attended in the capital of today’s Loggovardia.
Each of those men and women must have made a very important contribution to the civilisation of this world in order for them to be honoured in such a way: words that hadn’t been heard, melodies that hadn’t sounded, artworks unappreciated by us back then, something important enough to give them a status, a spot in this temple of art and the chance to be reincarnated into immortal bronze, marble and synthetic ivory gods!
“Who knows what the human societies would be like today if it wasn’t for Alex Jenefelt, a leading figure of Direct Knowledge and thinker of their 9th century (circa 3200 AD), they wonder nowadays, similar to what we thought about Plato, Socrates and, above all, Christ.
THE WISE MEN OF THE PALACE STREETS IN KONGEBORG
Lorffe Gunnar Hiller Jr.
Around noon, Syld came to visit and sat and chatted with Stefan for hours. Apart from being a renowned painter and a person profoundly appreciated by everyone, especially by Stefan, he was also one of Stefan’s oldest friends. Jaeger told him that we’d be here and he came to find us on his own. Among other things they talked about, Syld suggested that they went to the Streets of Palaces on the 22nd of this month—just the two of them—to hear Gunnar Hiller Jr., one of the two leading Lorffes of the year, speak in a lecture intended for a wide circle of participants. “You might even be able to meet him, talk to him,” said Syld.
Stefan told him that he was most likely to have left the Valley by then, but Syld continued: “He is an extremely simple man, despite the very ‘official’ life that he’s been forced to live lately. Deep down, he doesn’t really like it that much. The most precious thing in his life is his granddaughter. Last year, he asked the board to enter the crystal square with her, holding her hand. He resented the fact that they didn’t allow him, claiming that something like that was impossible. He’s simple like that: benevolent and with a loving soul. Of course, you can’t just go and talk to him first… He’ll find something to say to you if he isn’t too tired. Come on, join me, and with a little self-control everything will be fine.”
Stefan thanked him but once again replied that he would probably leave in four days and added that it was good enough for him to have seen the palaces from above, which we had already done, on the first day of our arrival.
We had actually flown there, beyond Fgelen, to the Southeast Valley, and we hovered above the Streets of Palaces in Kongeborg. It is an endless state with
crystal boulevards in the shades of amethyst, an entire city made up of the palaces of the Lorffes and surrounded by vast parks, with the famous purple roses.
Many of the great spiritual men of today have not been sent to live in Kongeborg, but that doesn’t mean that the public admires and respects them less; they idolise them all the same! Their value is defined by their contribution, not by their rank. It’s just that the other ones, the annual or biannual officials are there either because their predecessors had appointed them as a result of publicly acknowledging their intellectual superiority or because they had requested elections themselves. Sometimes they did this in order to let people judge whether or not they had progressed spiritually in the meantime or because their predecessors were simply tired and wanted to retire, live more privately or even work, especially when their term of office in the Palaces had been extended to more than two years.
If the term of office in the Palaces (Paladser as they call them now) and in Kongeborg also gives some sort of power to the holder of the title and what kind of power that is, I never truly understood. What it certainly gives to the person is great, but symbolic, honours and it is also considered a proof of excellence and prudence. Even though the Lorffes and Ilectors had found everything tidy and organised from the old times of the Eldere, from the times of the governance of the great technicians, they never wanted to “break with protocol”. The Nojere for some reason wanted to maintain the old hierarchy and “titles” and to express through them the new evaluative beliefs, beliefs that were in complete disagreement with those of the “old age”, the gammel epoke, that is, the times of technocracy.
In many cases, these temporary officials haven’t really renounced the secular joys and material goods even though they know how to hide it. Most of them however, and especially the top leaders, want nothing to do with all that; the spirit is all that matters for them.
Several months ago, Aria and Syld had talked to Stefan and Hilda about Knut Niversun and how he felt the day he was given the blue and white ribbons… His concern was that someone better had been wronged! “If that’s true,” he said, “I have a way to fix it next year.” And when someone asked him what he would do if it turned out that he was the one that had been wronged, he answered that he didn’t care one iota and that someone would right that wrong sooner or later. “Do you think that when children are loved either they need to be declared Lorffes to enjoy this love?” he asked them. And I was told that he then made a hint about the Roisvirch, saying that everything wonderful that exists or happens around us we should make part of our lives: the arrival of spring, the distant sounds of children's songs, the love for people, nature and the forest…”
The way their wise men think is very… wise! Even though they are considered superior to all spiritual men of all times, they come to add to what has been told in the past, not to refute it… Never has a Volky tried to discredit Christ. Never has a Valmandel (860 or 3256 AD) or a Ruthemir (1014 or 3410 AD) ever tried to invalidate a Bach or a Beethoven. They were in favour of enrichment, not demolition.
Something similar is now happening with Gunnar Hiller, says Syld: the highest title that he could ever ask for was that of a grandfather. The greatest joy that he has ever experienced was when his little angel called him “Grandpa” for the first time.
A while back he had been asked if he aspired to see his son taking his place one day. As a matter of fact, his son had shown a very significant inclination towards philosophy and has also written an excellent three-volume work on ethics.
“I cannot know what the future holds,” replied Hiller, “but I will tell you one thing: I will strongly hesitate to urge him to expose himself despite his innate talent and prolific vocation…Chances are that for now my successor will be a complete stranger, son of another complete stranger, one of the thousand students of the Aidersen Institute. I do not dream to see my son in my position, and this is not the point. I only dream that my son too will bow down to that future, unknown for now genius, whoever that is…”
FAMOUS WOMEN OF THE FUTURE
About the famous women of that time, after the 20th century that is, I didn’t know much. I can now only recall three names: Erika, Anna-Flaisia and Ariana. I asked Stefan up to whom it is to decide who will be turned into a sculpture and who not, and he vaguely replied that nothing happens without the knowledge and consent of the Ilectors. What I noticed was that even sinful people or non-existent, fantastic, characters from poetry, literature or music had been turned into sculptures. I have the opinion that the selection wasn’t that careful... Stefan spoke of “the element of the wonderful” in these big hearts, an element that perhaps hadn’t been appreciated in all its glory in earlier times. That’s why you now see sculptures of fishermen and hawkers, depressed suicides and even women who, in our time, would have been characterised as being of loose morals.“This is because at that time no one was aware of the importance of all those people and all the different and sometimes extreme expressions of their inner self; nobody knew that about the common Source of all these expressions,” Stefan explained to me.
I can hardly remember any of their artists’ names, but you can see clearly in all artworks how genius blended with inspiration and gave birth to an exquisite expression of ideal beauty and pure, noble love.
Stefan also talked to me about De Lamartine’s Graciela, whose statue we came across at some point, among the rosebushes of Umliani.
“It was a glimpse of the Samith that made her heart flutter. She couldn’t endure it. That was enough to cause her death… Back then nobody could have thought that at some point in the future her statue would be erected in the largest intellectual centre of the world. Centuries had to pass in order for people to grasp the true meaning of her painful story. “Not even Graciela herself realised what killed her. But such kinds of deaths are a beginning, not an end.”
Indeed he believes that such deaths have something in common with the deaths of Christ, Socrates and Giordano Bruno. “And I don’t want to sound disrespectful or blasphemous,” he felt the need to explain himself. He doesn’t ignore the enormous differences between the cases. The “thing in common” for Stefan is the fact that in the past such deaths were considered the end, “the terminus”, either via suicide, execution, the stake, hemlock, crucifixion or torture, but now the judgment of history has demonstrated the opposite: those ancient “losses” marked new beginnings, not endings. They were a start of something more real, something divine; they were a passage to eternity and immortality.
In front of the statue of another prematurely deceased young and beautiful lady, Vana-Aregia by Thoralsen, Stefan recited the verses that were engraved on the pedestal. He remained motionless in the same spot for several minutes looking at this marble masterpiece, immersed in his thoughts.
“Look at the expression on her face,” he said “there’s no need to read about the Valley in history books and guidebooks: everything you need to know is here, as long as your eyes and soul are open.”
He then explained to me that this particular artwork is one of the rare masterpieces of their 9th century, all of which they’re very proud of. Immediately after he added, “Here in the Valley of the Roses, for the first time in history, all hopes and dreams and ideals now have a face, a purpose. They have come true! They have substance! In fact, they are now more real and tangible than our own lives.”
I couldn’t help revealing my thoughts to Stefan: I told him that perhaps they should be more careful, that perhaps they have mistaken the mere evolutionary progress of the human species for something sublime and transcendent. He found my mentality one of an unenlightened man of the old age with little faith in the wonders of life, constantly suspicious and deprived of emotion. Without scorning me, said, “A true Homo Occidentalis Novus would never have articulated such a concern because he knows that all concepts and instincts that exist beyond reason, like intuition, faith, poetry, philosophy or motherhood, have a common source: the Samith.”
&nbs
p; We walked around those densely “populated” residences of the statues tirelessly until the late evening hours, and, unintentionally, Stefan conveyed his unprecedented excitement to me. Those enormous figures looked as if they come to life when no one is around to see them. We passed by the statue of Mother Renard, Teresa Beren and the wonderful plastic composition of Brigitte Enemark, works by Erksen, Greneval and Ileana Virmpach respectively.
The Brigitte Enemark by Virmpach bore no expression of affection or tenderness on her face, as one would expect. She has depicted her as a hardy, robust working-class woman, powerful, decisive and determined. In her hands she’s holding a little boy, who looks either sick or exhausted from all the endless walking. One by one the kilometres that she has walked in exhaustion for the sake of her child are engraved on her forehead. The signs of anxiety and insomnia are obvious around her eyes. But you can see the maternal instinct prevailing; she’s always willing to sacrifice herself for her child, after she has surpassed all limits of human endurance.
“So no, the Great Reality isn’t based on the ancient instincts that have evolved through time,” said Stefan. “It is not a human invention. It is that divine element that lies beyond the realm of reason, the element that philosophy, art and undogmatic religion have been stressing for thousands of years now. But we were too blind to see it. We should have seen it before the Nibelvirch. Even the people of your time could have and should have become aware its existence.
On our way back I asked him if the Christian faith and the Volkic direct knowledge were almost the same thing, because the similarities were many.
“Deep down they both preach and aim for the same thing, with the exception that the former is a faith in religion while the latter is a faith in knowledge,” Stefan explained, “and religion became extremely dogmatic and anthropomorphic, striving to solve all problems and answer all questions with human means and in human terms, thus disproving its divine nature. Religion lost touch with reality and strayed from its original purpose. It gave the right to any random materialist to claim that scientific research was disproving religion and God as a concept more and more every day. The religious feeling is now on the rise because it was rid itself of its dogmatism, of the Holy Synods and the Holy Scriptures. The current scientific understanding of the world is far from materialistic.”