It takes suffering! It takes self-inflicted tortures, to roast on the grill for days, years, so that finally the truth comes out of the well of the unconscious. Sacrifices are needed, oh yes. Human sacrifices. Inhuman. Illusions lost without hope, body, and goods. Mistakes, mistakes, perjured and wagers.
It wasn’t by reading “The Lost Illusions” that I lost my illusions.
Nothing that makes us progress is pleasant. Yet everything that makes us progress is a great joy. An unspeakable joy!
Evil has a thousand claws, it won’t let you down. Is it your enemy? You can feel it. You see it. It’s there. You feel the evil inside you. You carry to the deepest part of your heart, to the most subtle part of your soul a mortal wound that exhausts and kills you. Where to run? You can’t hide or escape. Death is there, insincere, vicious, talkative. It holds you in its hand — which is yours.
However, your happiness is profound. It turns your head and gets you half drunk. You play dead, admit it. Its imprint is too vivid. You can’t resist the impulses it stirs. Do you have two professions? Are you a complete double? Are you irreconcilable with the miscreant? Furious in your happiness, happy in your distress, you are only a human shadow. The black and evil shadow, lying and tormented.
Your best part is juggling with the stars. A perverse entity, capable of giving away the heart’s gold, also capable of starving any zeal, plays with her. She dragged you into the thick mire, she healed your frailty, the woman in you took over the reins and it is she who drives your wagon.
For in your vileness you live in a chariot like Rama the Great, like the star of the Great Goddess, the star Alcor in the Great Bear that others call the Chariot. Mine is tiny and so is my life. In my youth I traveled the world at a time when planes cost a fortune, thanks to the free pass that gave me Devic, my lifelong friend and beloved brother.
See your infamies that emerge and drown you. They rise from the precipice of the unconscious. Unfathomable. An unthinkable horror. Indispensable. You wish you didn’t need it, but you lied to yourself for too long. Pretending to be beautiful, showing off, cracking up, you’re acting like nothing. And yet!
Yet shame overwhelms you. Yes, you have blood on your hands. Three times you were the cause of murder. If you have never killed directly, you are the cause and the remorse drowns you.
1 You ate your twin in the womb.
This kid hanged himself at 12 years old. You were 15. You’re the one who harassed him the hardest and most cruelly. Yes, it was you.
3 Gabriel was the little brother of a well-known publisher, managing a collection that I loved. But you knew Gabriel quite differently. In a band of six eight lads worn on the face and drawing. Gabriel was one of them, depressive as hell, always on the verge of breaking up.
We had to run to his place in the middle of the night, on the other side of Paris, because it’s all going amiss in his head. The guys from the gang would pass on the burden again, consoling their friend with the same words, tucking him into his bed and going home to sleep exhausted. In turns, they ensured a permanence. Gabriel was so fragile.
One night, Tristan is calling you. Gabriel just sent him an S.O.S, but tonight he is on guard at the hospital; he can’t move.
-Do you…?
-Shit! I went there two days ago! Ask Philippe!
Three hours later, it’s Gabriel on the phone. No one with him. On the edge of the abyss. He is suffering. You jump into a taxi. Twenty minutes later, you ring at his door. Half-open! His room is empty. You turn around, there’s light in the toilet.
Blood everywhere. You scream. Gabriel is on the throne, his arms and chest bleeding, the walls splashed to the ceiling. His throat yawns, gaping… His body is icy. Gabriel died bled white as a pig.
You vomit on the way back.
It took me 76 years to make these mistakes. I never thought of it. The devoured fetus, Mom told me, I was in my fifties. Surprised, but not guilty. Now yes.
To acknowledge one’s wrongs is to grow. Not to seek to justify oneself is to grow. To show humility is to grow. To forgive is to grow. To wait without impatience is to grow. To ask for forgiveness is to grow.
Forgiveness frees the soul, it takes the fear away. That is why forgiveness is such a powerful weapon.
In the end, my little one, you will be so big that the world will become too small. So you’ll have to take care of making the world grow. It needs it so much. He is thirsty, he is hungry, he wants to see himself as useful. Subtle. You polish him and it’s you who rutile.
The world will not be destroyed by those who do evil, but by those who look at them without doing anything.
Solving the engrams and bigamy is a drama. Finding the mother. Uncovering the origin. The first of the engrams is related to all the others. Identifying it. Trust it. And pull the thread. Seeing them one after another burst in your fingers. You do believe it, in the same time you don’t.
You’re a bit bored. Your work doesn’t interest you like before. You don’t know what to do with yourself anymore; it hasn’t happened to you since you were a teenager. Strange sensation of emptiness in the stomach, great serenity in the rest of the body. For a little, you would be happy. But there is the certainty of not having been able to help your darling find himself. He had been through a lot on the pavement, it broke quickly, was undone, unmade.
He hadn’t asked you for anything. But the requests are obvious, why formulate them? You were deaf and heavy. You felt his hard desire for deliverance, you believed that he had come to you only for that. You set him free. He killed himself without telling anyone. You found out ten years later, by chance.
There is no chance. Everything that happens is willed.
You made a huge mistake. Heavy, clumsy, lumbering – you were for years. At first, you weren’t in love. The path to him was made without you, with your body unwillingly. With your abstinent body for so long!
You did well. And you killed yourself. Suicide missed. You missed so many trains, time… You ran out of people, money, and connections. Slipped on the detergent. You’re not making much progress, you’re staying. Without wringing your neck, for that matter.
Do you still need to move forward? Enough! The case is closed. Icy, tired, rude, he has closed the file again. He doesn’t answer you anymore. He never replied to you. Never defended…
Why do I fall in love with all the women who pay me a little attention?
It goes by, everything breaks, you get tired. Emptiness is the fate of all of us, a predictable destiny. To fill oneself with nonsense, one discards one’s substance. We are losing the north, the south, the east, and the west. I have known these deserts; I have frequented them for a long time. Solitude, stupefaction, anxiety, vicissitudes. Awakening has occurred, brought about by an old friend who became a master in this field. Subtle, invisible, ethereal. But how rich and full!
You can’t touch it, but you have to feel it. When there’s nothing left, it comes, you feel it. And often, you don’t come back from it. So, with nothing left to lose, we go at a good pace. And all becomes clear. The truth sets in place.
Then the shock. No more of this all in one go. The failings of the era. You are becoming queen and king, by right, without your cross crushing yourself under its weight.
Merlin’s name comes from a 6th century prophet, Myrdinn, embellished in the Arthurian legend.
Lie is everywhere, Goethe said. Nobody is more slave than the one who thinks to…
When Caesar conquered the Gauls, he ensured his glory and wealth for quite a long…
Ana awakens to love. Wherever she goes, light and her faithful dragon accompany her.
What is taught in the textbooks has a provincial side, without imagination, lacking air