Tales Written by the Dying in Awe

The Most High populated planet U with intellectual trees and unthinking, anthropomorphic beings. The trees considered the anthropomorphic beings to be their little brothers and took care of them as best as they could.

In their turn, the anthropomorphic ones uglified the surface of planet U. With a vengeance, they struggled to clog it; in short, they behaved like earth’s babies. Among other things, the anthropomorphic ones made the planet’s air unbreathable. And moreover, they even destroyed the trees! When it came to respect for trees, the anthropomorphic ones had nothing of the kind. The anthropomorphic ones spit at the base of trees; in the same places, they threw their cigarette stubs. They broke branches, tore off leaves, and carved their names into the trees’ bark. It was terrible!

Honestly speaking, if I were in a tree’s skin, I would not have taken care of the anthropomorphic ones. Too cruel were they. And perhaps I would have died because of humiliation and grief.

Nevertheless, the trees kept growing! Spiritually, they were higher and nobler than I am. They were genuine angels! As for the anthropomorphic ones’ barbarity, the trees perceived it as the naughtiness of little children. And like parents who love too deeply, they kept giving their shadows to the anthropomorphic ones for shade and their flesh for the construction of their houses. Moreover, the trees absorbed the harmful egesta of the anthropomorphic ones, while they themselves exhaled vivifying gases to the atmosphere! There were no limits to the trees’ disregard of self!

However, the anthropomorphic ones kept going on the rampage. Resignedly and with a prayer, the trees perished from their actions, one after another. The trees asked the Great Inconceivable to forgive the anthropomorphic ones, not to destroy them. The Inconceivable said nothing and only smiled in sadness. It knew that the anthropomorphic ones would destroy themselves. So with love, it kept accepting the killed trees into its Garden of Eden.

And finally, on the planet U, only one tree was left. It was several thousand years old. Its branches died away one after another. Now, the anthropomorphic ones did not goof on the last tree. They cared for it. They tried to cure it. But it was already too late. A time came when no leaf sprouted from the only living branch. The tree died. Being scant of breath, the anthropomorphic ones perished too. Life on planet U stopped.

Do you think that I have blamed the anthropomorphic ones and sermonized here? Not at all. In this tragedy, there was the holy will of the Great Inconceivable, either for the trees or for anthropomorphic ones or for planet U itself. Why? Well, certainly, we – you and I – are no judges in this matter.

Fog

Once, when I was yet in my earthly life, I transformed into a fog: I became gray, damp, cool, and formless. I remember my anxious feeling. Being a cloud is strange.

I do not know why and where I was born, but I found myself on a hill. I was not successful in maintaining the level of the hill, so I flowed into a lower place.

To live without a body is wonderful! But I felt a marked annoyance because my consciousness was unclear; something shadowed it. What was it, and why? I could not understand.

Scrubs, thorny weeds, and trees did not scratch me. On the contrary, with tenderness, I embraced them. And it seemed to me that the plants did the same to me. I dragged along the earth, and it did not scratch me. Both on the earth and on the plants, I left particles of my essence. I granted them moisture. They drank me! This is probably what a nursing mother senses. But a mother does not disappear. She takes nourishment and restores her forces. My forces were not being restored. I cannot say that it aggrieved me, but a feeling of weakness grew, of lassitude, drowsiness, and a special blithe quietness.

Spreading wider and wider, I got thinner. No, I did not disappear. But my flesh was becoming more transparent, rarefied, and warm. My consciousness was becoming clearer. The sun was transforming from a white spot into something light yellow and white-hot. I felt that it dissolved me as if I were the snow maiden. At first I tried to hide from it, and I flowed down into a ravine to a brook. I played hide-and-seek with the sun. But it found me through hazel branches, and, being content, it started smiling. I returned the smile to the sun and stretched myself to him. The game was over. Slumber got the upper hand.

I fell asleep, or more precisely, I somehow changed my form. And life continued to enjoy its existence without me – without the fog.

Three Sages

On all planets, in all countries, there are sages.

A king was told that a sage lived within the borders of his country. “I want my people to be familiar with the sage’s wisdom,” the king said. “A candle must be lifted onto a candlestick. It is not good for it to become soot in a cellar.”

The sage was brought to the capital, lodged in a penthouse, and provided with royal supplies. Blessed by the king, he started sermonizing. Nevertheless, the sage was surrounded by a cloud of a public hatred. Under the moisture of this cloud, the sage’s candle soon died away. His gravestone was violated.

The king of a second country was also informed that a sage lived in his kingdom. He instructed his court philosopher to verify the report. The philosopher found an inconsistency between the sage’s doctrine and the country’s national ideals. The informant was deprived of his position, and the philosopher was rewarded. As for the sage, he was kept under surveillance.

The sage was not old, and he wished to have followers. A young man became inflamed with the sage’s doctrine and tried to sermonize. The young man was apprehended and beaten half to death by the police. The sage’s shed caught fire, incidentally. The sage left the second country for a third one. There, in peace, blessings, and oblivion, he lived to extremely old age. Nobody knows exactly where he was buried.

In a fourth country, nobody reported the existence of a sage to the king. Because people judged the sage so absurdly, the idea of determining whether the sage was really a sage could gain no traction. At first, the sage was offended by his compatriots’ opinion. But then he realized the great happiness of not being understood. His candle burned without harming the skin. She was shining solemnly and blindingly invisibly. However, why did I say it was alight? It is still alight now!

Angelic Music

“People say a soul has strings that make sound,” I said to Hermit.

“It has,” he replied.

“But who hears its music? Who touches those strings?”

Hermit was thoughtful for a while and then replied, “If the whole heart of a living creature is tuned to Heaven, then the Most High himself touches the strings of the soul, and it – this happy soul – distributes the angelic music all around.”

“But who hears it, then?”

“Only such a person who also left the earth and who, though seeming to live on the material planet, actually dwells in paradisiac pastures. The spiritual ears of such a living creature enjoy the angelic music. As for the rest, it does not exist for them.”

“So the beauty of the angelic music cannot act upon the world?”

“When I was young, I thought that it could,” the Hermit replied sadly. “But my spiritual experience did not confirm this. As living creatures devoted to earth, soul strings are touched only by passions, according to the will of the Everlasting.”

“Can it be that such is the Everlasting’s desire?”

“It is not a desire of the Everlasting, exactly. The Everlasting attends the sincere desires of living creatures. With all of us, what we subconsciously want to happen does happen. I want to enjoy the angelic music, and I bathe in it, hindering nobody. The one who wants to change his consciousness with drumming also gets his desire – and it is good if he does it via headphones. Alas, in the world, sound violation is accepted. Only few consider it violence.

“Besides, do not forget that it is necessary for the Most High to ruin the earth. Is angelic music fit for this purpose? Of course not. This is why, in the minds of the overwhelming majority of living creatures, heaven plants the eagerness for deafening, passionate music.

“However, it seems to me that a soul has no strings at all. A soul sounds like a wind instrument. The Great Spirit or passions touch it, and the passionate music fills in the world.”

“Unfortunately, all the music we hear is passionate,” I said with a sigh.

“Yes. Because reproducing the angelic music to make it accessible to physical hearing is impossible.”

“But this is similar to an invisible dress – the person wearing it is in fact naked!”

“One could say so, yes. Because the spiritual and the material do not conform, actually. What is innermost is a profanation for an earthly mind. Worldly wisdom is senseless for an inhabitant of heaven.”

Betrayal

“Teacher,” the student said, “three men robbed a plant. One went to the police and repented. The two others concluded that he was a traitor and killed him. Neighbors approved of the killers’ action.”

Teacher was surprised. “Well, so what?”

“This is not the end of the story. One nation adhered to high ideals and was unhappy. Then it refused to consider any high matters and started to serve the low ones. And here it acquired its happiness. One living creature did not agree with his nation and continued to serve high matters. He considered his nation to be a traitor. The people understood this and despised the living creature as a traitor too. The life of the living creature transformed into suffering itself. But his conscience was clean, and in this thought, he found a happiness of the same intensity as that experienced by the nation that he betrayed. So is it right or wrong to be a traitor?”

“You see,” Teacher explained, “betrayal is unfaithfulness to a community. To say is it right or wrong is funny in itself. But whether betrayal is good or not good is another question.

“When a whole nation is unfaithful to something, this is undoubtedly the will of the Most High. But the execution of heaven’s will is not always useful for a soul or a body.

“You told how repentance led to death. But for the entire nation and the man who was cast off, what matters is for whose sake the betrayal was made. If it was for the sake of serving heaven, such unfaithfulness – even to one’s own people – is the soul’s greatest good. And let the affair be finished with the body’s inglorious death! On the other hand, if an entire nation smeared high ideals with shit, refused them, and even found great happiness in low aspirations, I think that such a betrayal would lead to the degeneration of this nation – but that is heaven’s will for it. So it is not worth aching for this community. Instead, one has to praise the creator, the ways of whom are inexplicable.”

Not to Embarrass

A righteous man once lived on earth. All his days were spent in prayer, singing psalms, and heavenly reflection. Once he got sick, and for the restoration of his health and strength, our merciful Lord sent him into a deep sleep.

The soul of the righteous man was glad of the freedom; it left the body for a while and flew, wandering. It found itself on the spiritual planet W. The soul flew around it, praising the Most High and enjoying its own righteousness. It never occurred to the soul that it was doing something obscene.

Meanwhile, spiritual dark clouds had condensed around the soul, and immaterial lightning started to glow. Any minute now, the soul would be struck dead! It was surrounded by angels of the planet W, and they threatened it with a cruel death.

“Have mercy, dear ones,” the soul said to the spirits. “I am such a righteous soul, such a prayer reader, such a psalm singer!”