Geani - growing up
Sunday, April 02, 2006
I just wanted to live what I was naturally becoming. Why was this so hard to do?
“I just wanted to live what
I was naturally becoming.
I was naturally becoming.
Why was this so hard to do?”
...Here is what Hesse says, in English also. I hope the meaning is not altered by my translation.
“To tell my story, I have to start from far away, back in time, from the beginning. I should, if possible, go very far back in time, in the first years of my childhood, and even further, when I was born.
When writing novels, the poets use to act like they would be God and they could understand from one glance the entire story of a person, trying to tell it like God would tell it to himself, without details in its essential traits. This is impossible for me as it is for the poets also.
But, my story is more valuable than the one of a poet; because is mine, and it is the story of a real being, not one of an imagined one, of a possible one, of an ideal one or any other one’s, but it is the story of a flesh and blood being, unique and alive.
Today we know less than ever what is that a real human being, and this is how human beings, that are each a priceless, unique try of the nature, are shot and killed in crowds. If we would only be unique individuals, if we could be really taken out of this world with a single gunfire, than it would make no sense to tell stories.
But each human being is not just himself; it is in the same time the unique, extraordinary, anyway the important and strange point in which the nature’s phenomena meet only once in this particular way and never again the same. This is why the story of every human being is important, timeless, and divine, this is why each person is wonderful and worthy of all respect, as long as it lives and accomplishes nature’s will. In each of us there is spirit, in each of us the creation is suffering, in each of us there is a Jesus dying on the Cross.
Few people know today what the human being is. Many feel it, and this is why they die easier, as I will die easier after I will finish writing this story. I cannot call myself a wise person. I was a seeker and I still am, but I am not looking anymore in books or stars, I start to pay attention to the stories that my blood tells me. My story is not pleasant, is not sweet and full of harmony as the invented stories are, it has taste of vanity and riot, of craziness and dream as the stories of all the people that don’t want to lie each other anymore.
The life of each human being is a way to himself, the try of a path, the intuition of a path. No human being was ever fully himself; and nevertheless, each of us tends to this, one choking, the other serene, each of us as it can. Each of us carries until death the remains of its birth, plasma and egg shell of an ancestral world. One never becomes a human being, it remains frog, it remains lizard, it remains ant. Other is half human being, half fish. But each is an aspiration of the nature towards human being. The shelters are the same for all of us, the mothers, all of us, come from the same abyss, but each of us tends, as a trial and a throwing from the depth towards its own aim.
But, my story is more valuable than the one of a poet; because is mine, and it is the story of a real being, not one of an imagined one, of a possible one, of an ideal one or any other one’s, but it is the story of a flesh and blood being, unique and alive.
Today we know less than ever what is that a real human being, and this is how human beings, that are each a priceless, unique try of the nature, are shot and killed in crowds. If we would only be unique individuals, if we could be really taken out of this world with a single gunfire, than it would make no sense to tell stories.
But each human being is not just himself; it is in the same time the unique, extraordinary, anyway the important and strange point in which the nature’s phenomena meet only once in this particular way and never again the same. This is why the story of every human being is important, timeless, and divine, this is why each person is wonderful and worthy of all respect, as long as it lives and accomplishes nature’s will. In each of us there is spirit, in each of us the creation is suffering, in each of us there is a Jesus dying on the Cross.
Few people know today what the human being is. Many feel it, and this is why they die easier, as I will die easier after I will finish writing this story. I cannot call myself a wise person. I was a seeker and I still am, but I am not looking anymore in books or stars, I start to pay attention to the stories that my blood tells me. My story is not pleasant, is not sweet and full of harmony as the invented stories are, it has taste of vanity and riot, of craziness and dream as the stories of all the people that don’t want to lie each other anymore.
The life of each human being is a way to himself, the try of a path, the intuition of a path. No human being was ever fully himself; and nevertheless, each of us tends to this, one choking, the other serene, each of us as it can. Each of us carries until death the remains of its birth, plasma and egg shell of an ancestral world. One never becomes a human being, it remains frog, it remains lizard, it remains ant. Other is half human being, half fish. But each is an aspiration of the nature towards human being. The shelters are the same for all of us, the mothers, all of us, come from the same abyss, but each of us tends, as a trial and a throwing from the depth towards its own aim.
We can understand each other but we are the only ones able to explain ourselves.”
Herman Hesse - Demian
Herman Hesse - Demian
posted by Geani, 5:33 PM
