I must tell you one story. When I was on my way through south america, I spent some time on the estate of a Chilean nobleman whose three sons had a passion for boxing. The elder, in particular, who had just come home from training, thought he was some sort of expert. With a confident smirk, he offered me some gloves as he lay down his challenge.
Stubborn to the core and never being one to back down, ofcourse, I accepted his challenge, and as it turned out, unfortunately for the eldest son, I had the better of him. Nearly every punch I made found its mark, frustrating him, he could not land any punch; making him angry, and this inability to find his mark only increased his growing confusion.
At last he removed his gloves and threw them away in a huff. As he picked them up he said, half in anger and half in jest, that he had met his master but that there is a master for everyone and everything - and now he proposed to lead me to mine. The other brothers laughed loudly at this and shouted: "Come on, come down to the shed!" They took me by the hand and led me outside to make the acquaintance of an unbelievably large feline which their father had on the farm.
I was astounded to see the regal feline with the mane of a lion standing upright on his hind legs, his back loose but upright, right paw raised ready for battle. He looked me straight in the eye. This was his fighting posture. Honestly, I wasn't sure if I was dreaming, seeing such an opponent. My gloves still on, the brothers urged me to attack. "See if you can hit him!" they shouted.
As I had now recovered somewhat from my astonishment I put my guard up; and moved forward. I jabbed with my left hand and jabbed again. The cat made a slight movement with his paw and parried my jabs with ease. I feinted, to deceive him. The cat did not move. I attacked again, this time with all the skill I could muster; I threw a jab, another jab, a jab cross combination; I angled and attempted bodyshots.
I know I would certainly have easily landed these punches on a human torso but the cat made a slight movement with his paw and parried everything I threw. By now I was almost in the same state as the eldest brother had been: the cats utter seriousness robbed me of my composure. Combinations and feints followed thick and fast twisting and turning, the sweat poured off me, but in vain.
It wasn't merely that he parried my punches like the finest boxer in the world; when I feinted to deceive him he made no move at all. No human boxer could equal his perception in this respect. He stood upright, his paw raised ready for battle, his eye fixed on mine as if he could read my soul right there, and when my attempts were not meant seriously he just did not move.
And We see that in the organic world, as thought grows dimmer and weaker, grace emerges more brilliantly and decisively.
But just as a section drawn through two lines suddenly reappears on the other side after passing through infinity, so grace itself returns when knowledge has; as it were, gone through an infinity.
Grace appears most purely in that human form which either has no consciousness or an infinite consciousness. That is, in the puppet or in the god."
So must eat again off the tree of knowledge in order to return to the state of innocence?"
Well maybe, just maybe ”but that's the final chapter in the history of the world.”
I must tell you one story. When I was on my way through south america, I spent some time on the estate of a Chilean nobleman whose three sons had a passion for boxing. The elder, in particular, who had just come home from training, thought he was some sort of expert. With a confident smirk, he offered me some gloves as he lay down his challenge.
Stubborn to the core and never being one to back down, ofcourse, I accepted his challenge, and as it turned out, unfortunately for the eldest son, I had the better of him. Nearly every punch I made found its mark, frustrating him, he could not land any punch; making him angry, and this inability to find his mark only increased his growing confusion.
At last he removed his gloves and threw them away in a huff. As he picked them up he said, half in anger and half in jest, that he had met his master but that there is a master for everyone and everything - and now he proposed to lead me to mine. The other brothers laughed loudly at this and shouted: "Come on, come down to the shed!" They took me by the hand and led me outside to make the acquaintance of an unbelievably large feline which their father had on the farm.
I was astounded to see the regal feline with the mane of a lion standing upright on his hind legs, his back loose but upright, right paw raised ready for battle. He looked me straight in the eye. This was his fighting posture. Honestly, I wasn't sure if I was dreaming, seeing such an opponent. My gloves still on, the brothers urged me to attack. "See if you can hit him!" they shouted.
As I had now recovered somewhat from my astonishment I put my guard up; and moved forward. I jabbed with my left hand and jabbed again. The cat made a slight movement with his paw and parried my jabs with ease. I feinted, to deceive him. The cat did not move. I attacked again, this time with all the skill I could muster; I threw a jab, another jab, a jab cross combination; I angled and attempted bodyshots.
I know I would certainly have easily landed these punches on a human torso but the cat made a slight movement with his paw and parried everything I threw. By now I was almost in the same state as the eldest brother had been: the cats utter seriousness robbed me of my composure. Combinations and feints followed thick and fast twisting and turning, the sweat poured off me, but in vain.
It wasn't merely that he parried my punches like the finest boxer in the world; when I feinted to deceive him he made no move at all. No human boxer could equal his perception in this respect. He stood upright, his paw raised ready for battle, his eye fixed on mine as if he could read my soul right there, and when my attempts were not meant seriously he just did not move.
And We see that in the organic world, as thought grows dimmer and weaker, grace emerges more brilliantly and decisively.
But just as a section drawn through two lines suddenly reappears on the other side after passing through infinity, so grace itself returns when knowledge has; as it were, gone through an infinity.
Grace appears most purely in that human form which either has no consciousness or an infinite consciousness. That is, in the puppet or in the god."
So must eat again off the tree of knowledge in order to return to the state of innocence?"
Well maybe, just maybe ”but that's the final chapter in the history of the world.”
