{"id":52449,"date":"2024-09-17T05:00:56","date_gmt":"2024-09-17T04:00:56","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/eden-saga.com\/en\/?p=52449"},"modified":"2024-09-26T19:10:48","modified_gmt":"2024-09-26T18:10:48","slug":"into-uncreated","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/eden-saga.com\/en\/into-uncreated.html","title":{"rendered":"Into the Uncreated"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

After The Book of the Goddesses<\/a>, The Great Passage<\/a> and The Ultimate Dawn<\/a>, this fourth part overturns the reassuring barriers of a commonly accepted reality. He makes us enter a world outside of the world, a time stopped from all eternity that has never been. And we? If we are virtual in this simulated life, will we really exist after that? In what beyond unimaginable?<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I thought that I could no longer translate and decipher the rebus that make up the continuation of the Book of the Goddesses. I had to, I thought, make a famous break to find the thread of revelation. The Goddess does not hear it that way. She came, she was naked in all the virginal splendor of our infinite mother.<\/p>\n

When I saw it, I trembled. When I heard it, I failed. But his words will forever remain engraved in my mortal, ugly and bancroche head that has pure only its absence. Its dementia and its insignificance.<\/p>\n

That\u2019s the beauty of it. The poor little man I am, a naked monkey without shelter in this hostile land, a beefy biped who has hardly anything to live for, a clown who came back from all but mad love, an old man on the move, a stranger of no importance, already forgotten who by the grace of John Sekie became the scribe of the Immense.<\/p>\n

Scribbler unworthy of this too great mystery, I am silent. May His word enlighten us.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The uncreated<\/h4>\n

Book of the Goddesses, verses 111 to 115<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

111 In the infinite void of the uncreated submissive<\/strong>
\n112 In the distance, nothing is no more The impossible is admitted<\/strong>
\n113 The worst is desirable and all desire is dead<\/strong>
\n114 The near is the absolute Death is the heart of life<\/strong>
\n115 Life becomes non-life death becomes non-death<\/strong><\/p>\n

\nWe have always existed in the uncreated. The astral. True life is elsewhere. Beyond false pretenses. Beyond death. We must accept our present state, it is absence. Absence to ourselves, absence to the true life, absence to our true nature which is pure light.<\/p>\n

The uncreated is the pre-existing of the Gnostics. This non-world that has always been, but from which we are cut off here and now. We are prisoners of a world of dense matter, where all effort is painful, where the gravity crushes us, where our bodies are only a miserable copy of the body of light inhabited by the Self.<\/p>\n

We have no dimension. We are a fictional point in the void, we whose nature is infinite. Can do better, the teacher writes in the margin of the notebook. The lazy student shrugs his shoulders. He knows that he can do better, he does it every night in his real life, without school, without degrees, without career, without profession, without youth, without old age, without nothing \u2014 to be able to embrace everything.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\nEternal Zenith<\/h4>\n

Book of the Goddesses, verses 116 to 120<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

116 Let\u2019s resurrect fearless valour<\/strong>
\n117 Let us be drunk by the abyss perfumes<\/strong>
\n118 The other side is our raison d’\u00eatre<\/strong>
\n119 In this non-world where there is<\/strong>
\n120 Neither world, nor side, nor reason or being<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

It takes courage to face the unknown. This non-world is unlike anything familiar. To start from scratch the path of life, of another life more true, brighter, less restrictive. It takes courage. But why fearless? Probably because we will face the unknown, even unknowable. No dream or nightmare, no imagination can prepare us for such a shock.<\/p>\n

So we\u2019ll have to hold on. Resist scattering. Keep our assembly point in its prime position. And gradually it will change place. It will grow. Our view of the outside will no longer be filtered by a single point, it will be emitted by the totality of our brightness. We can finally have an infinity of points of view in the same eternal moment.<\/p>\n

We will not see it sparkle
\nOver the icy desert
\nThe beloved silhouette
\nOf the sublime Hyperborea.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Gradually, our inner gaze will become accustomed to the unacceptable. And the last image we will take of our dying planet will come from a past already too far away to give us any regret. Oblivion of the last dawn, we will live the eternal zenith.\u00a0<\/p>\n

It is death I take, it is life that I am given.
\nHave I not lived so much for this infinite?
\nPardi, it is the agony that wants to teach me how to live.
\nIf life is left to me, death deliver me.
\nTo live or die is a me, sails the drunk ship.
\nLove pleasure is never learned in books.
\n(John None)<\/p>\n\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Shame<\/h4>\n

Book of Goddesses, verses 121 to 125<\/span><\/p>\n

121 Yes we have suffered shame, failed humans<\/strong>
\n122 Yes, we have received the promised punishment<\/strong>
\n123 Yes we have known the fear that disunites<\/strong>
\n124 These times are now honnis, banished, finished<\/strong>
\n125 Yes the past is no more and the future is not<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\nOld biker I loved, better late than never, as Wan says. At the foot of the mystery we judge the enchanter. If you do, don\u2019t judge me, Ladies of old. You were gone, here you are again. You seem to be woven with love. You were the queen of humans, united with us like fingers.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Homer of the day<\/h4>\n

Book of the Goddesses, verses 126 to 131<\/span><\/p>\n

\n126 Like oriflammes<\/strong>
\n127 To the celestial hearse<\/strong>
\n128 So deeply you suffer<\/strong>
\n129 Awaiting forever<\/strong>
\n130 The return of Circe<\/strong>
\n131 In the fury of flames<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Circe, powerful magician, you who the fool Homer called polyph\u00e1rmakos,<\/a>\u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03c5\u03c6\u03ac\u03c1 \u03bc\u03b1\u03ba\u03bf\u03c2<\/span> illustrious expert in drugs of all horizons, dedicated to multiple shocks, many poisons, you modify things, you metamorphosis us.<\/p>\n\n

 <\/p>\n

\nShame is ours, good apostles. Let us drink to forget.<\/p>\n

Let us drink ourselves to last in the joking embrace<\/span>
\nOf a world as fakey as this painted canvas<\/span>
\n(Moaning of the passing weeping)<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\nEternal refrain of finite time that lasts infinitely. Repeated couplet of an absent space that carries us yet. Incomprehensibly clear, obscurely clear, we hit the invisible walls that have never locked us. It is the conventions, the false rules, the non-existent constraints that make up the walls of our prison.<\/p>\n

Take a step, one step and suddenly you breathe. the ordeal is no longer there. All vice has disappeared. There is no more morality or virtue. There is only love, seat and place of life, horizon of death, alcohol that delivers the need to be drunk.<\/p>\n

\nAs for the promised punishment
\nDo you know what it is?
\nGood or bad?
\nIs it inevitable?
\nIs this an ejection seat?
\nCould it be omitted?
\nAt the end of the day?
\nTo throw to the ants?
\n(I. Dunno)<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Turn off the light<\/h4>\n

Book of the Goddesses, verses 132 to 136<\/span><\/p>\n

\n132 Space is abolished, nothing holds on yesterday<\/strong>
\n133 In the desert firmament the lights are turned off<\/strong>
\n134 Do not turn, do not look elsewhere<\/strong>
\n135 Everything is there before you, nothing, misfortune, happiness<\/strong>
\n136 Soon you will understand that these treasures are yours<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

More space, more time. Already it is incomprehensible. Nothing in our spatio-temporal experience allows us to understand eternity. And yet I tell you that it exists. Elsewhere than in the dream, elsewhere than in my views. So many old religions have taught our ancestors! It is true that the news has lulled us into deceptive illusions. It has sold us hard gold at the price of fine gold.<\/p>\n

When there is no sky, where to look for the stars? When there is nothing recognizable, why search again? One would search in vain. The infinite can fit in the palm of your hand. But you no longer have a hand. Nor tomorrow. You have nothing. And the gods make you believe that the All belongs to you. It is for everyone, for all humans. He is also to the Martians, the Venusians, the Saturnians, the Jupiterians and all those of the Sun, faithful guardian of the scientists illusions.<\/p>\n

The Whole is also to those of distant stars. To those of other worlds, other galaxies, other universes. All these shall have nothing, and the gods of there will tell them that they are everything. Soon you will understand that nothing is yours.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\nWe will get it through infinity
\nThis endless moment of eternity
\nSad garbage and erased gilding
\nWe will get it on the soil gliding
\n(I. Phorgott)<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Let us drink to last in the lurking embrace<\/span><\/em>
\nOf a world as fakey as this painted canvas<\/span><\/em>
\nServing as a home or prison <\/span><\/em>
\nIn the heart of a love that has no more season<\/span><\/em>
\n(Moaning of the Passing Weeping)<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Our Mother Athena<\/h4>\n

Book of the Goddesses, verses 137 to 142<\/span><\/p>\n

137 You already understand that you do not exist<\/strong>
\n138 Athena wants you here<\/strong>
\n139 Where everything is one. You go among your own<\/strong>
\n140 Infinite immobile that occurs everywhere<\/strong>
\n141 Do you want to grow and unite with the Great All?<\/strong>
\n142 Be nothing.<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And if you didn\u2019t exist tell me why I would exist? Joe Dassin No one else apparently exists, yet Athena or John Secchi speak to me as if I could hear them without ears and hearing. By tuting me! Like a sad German! These people are vexing. And too intrusive.<\/p>\n

Note that in the uncreated they will not take any more place. No one will take any more, which will leave room for others. What place? What other? Well gods, name them! The uncreated is theirs, they have been there forever, and even before. They have the key, not us. They close twice as soon as they leave to piss on the rest of the world. Impossible to walk in. Which is better, because the non-gods evaporate as soon as they enter. Caution. Let us stay at home, in the hope that the gods will do likewise.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Pater Noster<\/h4>\n

Jacques Pr\u00e9vert<\/p>\n

\nOur Father who is in heaven
\nStay there
\nAnd we will remain on earth
\nWho is sometimes so pretty
\n(…)<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Sometimes it\u2019s so rotten too. In Pr\u00e9vert\u2019s time, it was less visible. Yet Paris was filthy, black with dirt and boredom, it rained racist confetti, the grocer was afraid of blacks, my concierge was afraid of fellaghas bombs, people were laughing yellow waiting for the danger of the same name, which never came that.<\/p>\n

Fellaga or fellagha is a term used to describe any Algerian fighter who fought for the independence of his country between 1952 and 1962, which was then an integral part of French territory.<\/p>\n

I have a “Visit Russia” sticker. It makes you laugh yellow, like danger. Let us stay at home, in the hope that the Russians and the gods will do likewise.<\/p>\n

It is possible that I have completely screwed up my interpretation of the uncreated. The subject is not easy. I, who am supposedly created from all eternity, I who have been swept through the ether, describe the unseen I have facilities, but paint the nothingness that did not exist, I hold.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Let us drink to last in the lurking embrace<\/em>
\nOf a world as fakey as this painted canvas<\/em>
\nServing as a home or prison <\/em>
\nIn the heart of a love that has no more season<\/em>
\nDo drugs to forget how much they cheat us<\/em>
\nAs they grubbed at the foot of half-mast pavilions<\/em><\/p>\n

(Moaning of the passing weeping)<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Non-desire<\/h4>\n

Book of the Goddesses, verses 143 to 149<\/span><\/p>\n

\n143 Desire nothing: there is no one, everything goes<\/strong>
\n144 Your loves are gone that will not return<\/strong>
\n145 Through your fault the void has been created around you<\/strong>
\n146 Your beloved are there you will not see<\/strong>
\n147 You hold them, you have them but the wind takes them away<\/strong>
\n148 Furious wind of nothingness that slaps and cleans you<\/strong>
\n149 Your sisters and brother who are they but you<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

If it’s not you, it\u2019s your brother. I don\u2019t have any. So it\u2019s someone of yours.*\u00a0 Which one? Who cares? Keep calm and take your pills.
\n*Jean de La Fontaine, The Wolf and the Lamb<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Let us drink to last in the lurking embrace<\/em><\/span>
\nOf a world as fakey as this painted canvas<\/em><\/span>
\nServing as a home or prison <\/em><\/span>
\nIn the heart of a love that has no more season<\/em><\/span>
\nDo drugs to forget how much they cheat us<\/em><\/span>
\nAs they grubbed at the foot of half-mast pavilions<\/span>
\nThe Goddess promised happiness to satiety<\/span>
\nPlowing effortlessly the meadows of eternity<\/span>
\n<\/em><\/p>\n

(Moaning of the passing weeping)<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The martyred slaves of time<\/h4>\n

Book of the Goddesses, verses 150 to 155<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

150 Do not refuse you anymore, open yourself, let go<\/strong>
\n151 What you deny becomes the promised eternity<\/strong>
\n152 Dream half designed, unique freedom<\/strong>
\n153 The erased eons, the outmoded giants<\/strong>
\n154 Your hand holds nothing, now the void<\/strong>
\n155 Here all that lasts is in your child\u2019s heart<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Hand holding nothingness. Nothing holds anything anymore. The void of the uncreated bites the non-tail. It hurts less than a real one. There is no more evil, nor good. Nor indeed. There is almost nothing but the almost it too has passed its way. What to say of nothingness? Let him speak for himself:<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I would not have said it better. Let\u2019s close the non-parenthesis.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

BE DRUNK<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

You must always be drunk, everything is there; that\u2019s the only question. To not feel the horrible burden of time that breaks your shoulders and you lean towards the earth, you must be intoxicated without a pause. But what?
\nOf wine, poetry, or virtue as you please, but get drunk!
\nAnd if, sometimes, on the steps of a palace, on the green grass of a ditch, you wake up, drunk already or no longer, ask the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock; to all that leaks, to all that groans, to everything that rolls, To all who sing, to all who speak, ask what time it is. And the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock will answer you, it\u2019s time to get drunk; not to be the martyred slaves of time, get drunk, get drunk constantly with wine, poetry, virtue, as you please. (Charles Baudelaire)<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Let us drink to last in the lurking embrace
\n<\/em><\/span>Of a world as fakey as this painted canvas<\/em><\/span>
\nServing as a home or prison <\/em><\/span>
\nIn the heart of a love that has no more season<\/em><\/span>
\nDo drugs to forget how much they cheat us<\/em><\/span>
\nAs they grubbed at the foot of half-mast pavilions<\/span>
\nThe Goddess promised happiness to satiety<\/span>
\nPlowing effortlessly the meadows of eternity<\/span>
\n<\/em><\/p>\n

(Moaning of the passing weeping)<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Not to be the martyred slaves of time<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Coming soon: The end of the world & the Fifth part of The Book of Goddesses, This Obscure Clarity<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Book of the Goddesses IV slaps your face to wake you up.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":52393,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[3468],"tags":[3099,906,39,3192],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/eden-saga.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/52449"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/eden-saga.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/eden-saga.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/eden-saga.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/eden-saga.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=52449"}],"version-history":[{"count":16,"href":"https:\/\/eden-saga.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/52449\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":52881,"href":"https:\/\/eden-saga.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/52449\/revisions\/52881"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/eden-saga.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/52393"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/eden-saga.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=52449"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/eden-saga.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=52449"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/eden-saga.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=52449"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}