Behind a vast and cold desert stretching for an unfathomable amount of miles with long and dark nights. Behind the heartless and relentless mountains. Behind a fog so thick you would think it came from a pipe. Behind all of that lies a river in a teeny tiny valley. With a front like that it would almost seem like a facade, but i wouldn’t know. It seems like i’ve been here too long.
All i do is walk, and for now that’s what we’re going to continue doing. Me and Kiziel that is.
We’re following the river.
“Are we still following it?” Kiziel asked, to which i replied yes.
“when do we reach the end of the river” asked Kiziel.
“We never do” i said
But i don’t know – because i’ve never been at the end of the river. Yet, Kiziel keeps asking the same question, and i keep producing the same answer.
I guess it keeps the mind from wandering about, and losing itself. Something to stick to. If there is no god or figure to worship, at least worship a question.
Kiziel flinches as he stepped on a shark rock.
It seems like we’ve been walking forever, but the only thing that changes is the rocks and the water.
Sometimes the water is chilly, sometimes the water is lukewarm. When the sun hits at the right time of the day, it’s wonderful – sensational.
We once passed by an old dead oak tree in wintertime, and the water was up to our chins. We couldn’t feel a thing. Kiziel was sure his thing had died by then.
Kiziel stepped on another pointy rock.
I don’t know when i met Kiziel. I wouldn’t call him a brother exactly, but he has always been there to challenge me and so has his questions. Well, not exactly lately.
I know the sun is almost setting, so i have to expect a new question of his.
“Why can’t we tell our stories how they are, instead of packaging them?” asked Kiziel.
“We have to disguise ourselves as figures – gods – so they understand us. They think they learn by seeing or visualizing – but they learn by listening. We hold the capacity of mastering a language, and in doing so we can effectively convey what we perceive. Everything we percieve is speaking to us, so to become a beacon and not just a poor reciever, we must listen and master a language”
I don’t know what i just said means. It seems like when i open my mouth somebody else is talking. I’ve become accustomed to it by now, second nature. Whatever nature means. It’s been a couple of years since we saw a tree pointing at the sky, and i’m pretty sure Kiziel has forgotten what their purpose is. Just more questions for me.
“Is there a finite amount of questions?” Kiziel asked as he avoided a pointy rock because it was shiny
“I wouldn’t assume so” i muttered quietly
Sometimes i meditate when i reach the shallow parts of the river. It fascinates me how hard it is to just be still with yourself for close to no time. To be faced with nothing but yourself (what ever i mean by ‘yourself’). I’m not even talking about the physical representation of myself, but the entity or rather consciousness that can look at itself. I guess what i’ve found after a while, is that there is nothing else, and there is everything else – all happening at the same time. To make a distinction between anything we need a reference, so everything really just means one thing – or even more precisely… it means nothing. Everything and nothing are the same without a reference. We are one as they used to say – before it became no one.
They never ran out of things to blame, and failed to realize evil doesn’t exist – only ignorance. The veils that blinded them, ego and the likes, made them react rather than just listen.
They used to pray and await their saviour in shiny armour, but not expect it to be so shiny as to reflect their own faces and their reality.
…but how can you blame them? They didn’t know any better. They learned from the one who taught them, and they were taught to stick with what they learned, intended to be an unbreakable chain.
No that’s not it, that’s no way of thinking.
FEAR BREEDS FEAR. AN ENDLESS LOOP OF UNJUDGEABLE DAMNATION. A FEEDBACK LOOP OF SUBMISSION AND ASSIMILATION.
DOOM WAS UPON THEM FOR PURSUING WHAT WAS SERVED TO THEM. TO TRUST NOTHING BUT THE TANGIBLE. A LOST CURIOSITY FOR THEMSELVES, A LOST CURIOSITY FOR LIFE. AN ESTABLISHED REFUGE IN COMFORT, AN ESTABLISHED REFUGE IN DISTRACTION!
“your nose is bleeding” said Kiziel, looking at the now rose dyed water below my knees.
I looked at Kiziel’s squinted eyes and his tilted head of uncertainty.
“Let’s go” I said as we set off into the long night.
“Do you feel al-…”
Interrupting Kiziel mid question, i told him: “We’re fixing this, we’re turning around. You need to know that there are no real answers to real questions, only more questions. Questions are built on questions, truths are built on truths. Only higher truths are valid – until they’re not, and there are always more higher truths. So we have to live with what we know now, until we find – or rather – stumble on a higher truth. We can’t wait for a better question for us to die … we can’t wait for a higher truth for us to live”