{"id":1353,"date":"2023-06-16T14:22:02","date_gmt":"2023-06-16T14:22:02","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/guts-berlin.de\/?page_id=1353"},"modified":"2023-06-21T13:17:46","modified_gmt":"2023-06-21T13:17:46","slug":"solstice-reading","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/guts-berlin.de\/index.php\/solstice-reading\/","title":{"rendered":"Solstice Reading"},"content":{"rendered":"

solstice reading texts<\/h2>\n<\/div><\/div>
\"\"<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>

with<\/h3>\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>

Alice Creischer<\/span><\/a><\/h3>

Hannah Gregory<\/span><\/a><\/h3>

Lingji Hon<\/span><\/a><\/h3><\/div><\/div><\/div>

Wojciech Kosma<\/span><\/a><\/h3>

Thomas Love<\/span><\/a><\/h3><\/div><\/div><\/div>

Markues<\/span><\/a><\/h3>

Jess Zamora-Turner<\/span><\/a><\/h3><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/section>
<\/div><\/div><\/div>
–> english<\/span><\/a><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>

Alice Creischer<\/p>\n

Der Hut spricht, der Rechen spricht
\nes fl\u00fcstert die Sense
\nzum Ohr im Gras:<\/p>\n

8760 Stunden hat das Jahr.
\n1200 Stunden verbraucht ein Arbeitsplatz.
\n40 Jahre arbeiten
\nbei 80 Jahren Lebenserwartung
\nsind 48.000 Stunden.
\nDas Leben hat aber
\n700.800 Stunden
\nin Deutschland
\nin Deutschland
\nist der Anteil der Arbeitszeit
\nam Leben
\nnur 7 Prozent.<\/p>\n

Zum Ohr im Gras spricht der Hut
\nder Rechen spricht
\nes fl\u00fcstert die Sense zum Lid:<\/p>\n

Given the speed of light in fiber
\nit is possible
\nto send
\nan order from New York to Chicago
\nand back in 12 milliseconds.
\nIt gives the occasion to be
\nthe first to exploit
\nthe discrepancies between
\nprices in Chicago and prices in New York.
\nA millisecond is a thousandth of a second
\nA tenth of the time it takes you
\nto blink your eyes,
\nif you blink
\nas fast as you can.<\/p>\n

Zum Lid zischt die Sense
\npass auf, du,
\ndenk blo\u00df nicht, du
\ndass du das verstecken kannst
\nunterm Deckel aus Haut,
\nim Traum im Schlaf
\nund die Augen die laufen darin
\numher wie die V\u00f6gel tun<\/p>\n

vor dem Wirt
\nder anschreibt
\ngenau und genau
\ndeinen Anteil von Arbeit
\nim Leben
\nan die T\u00fcr
\nmit unausl\u00f6schbarer Kreide<\/p>\n

und denk blo\u00df nicht,
\ndass du das auswedeln kannst
\nmit deinem Wimperngeklimper
\nund lass die Augen stehn
\nstill in der Mitte
\nreglos
\ngefroren
\nvom Schreck mir zu lauschen im Gras<\/p>\n

Und denk blo\u00df nicht
\nUnd untersteh dich
\ndu!
\nzu denken ich sei eine Grille<\/p>\n

Sources \/ text
\nPeter Hartz: Die Job Revolution, Frankfurt 2003
\nMichael Lewis, Flash Boys, A Wall Street Revolt, New York, 2014<\/h6>\n
Sources \/ picture
\nCamille Pissarro, Le repos, paysanne couch\u00e9e dans l\u00b4herbe, 1882
\nMaximilien Luce, A Street in Paris in May 1871, 1903 – 1905
\nFotos: London Riots, 2011<\/h6>\n<\/div><\/div>

The hat speaks, the rake speaks
\nthe scythe murmurs
\nto the ear in the grass:
\n8760 hours has the year.
\n1200 hours consumes a job.
\n40 years of work
\nwith 80 years life expectancy
\nare 48,000 hours.
\nBut life has
\n700.800 hours
\nin Germany.
\nIn Germany
\nthe share of working time
\nof life is
\nonly 7 percent.
\nTo the ear in the grass speaks the hat
\nthe rake speaks
\nit whispers the scythe to the eyelid:
\nGiven the speed of light in fiber
\nit is possible
\nto send
\nan order from New York to Chicago
\nand back in 12 milliseconds.
\nIt gives the occasion to be
\nthe first to exploit
\nthe discrepancies between
\nprices in Chicago and prices in New York.
\nA millisecond is a thousandth of a second
\nA tenth of the time it takes you
\nto blink your eyes,
\nif you blink
\nas fast as you can.
\nTo the lid the scythe sizzles
\nWatch out, you,
\nDon&#39;t you think, you
\nthat you can hide it
\nunder the lid of skin
\nthe dream in sleep
\nand the eyes that run in it
\naround like birds do
\nbefore the host
\nwho writes
\nexactly and precisely
\nyour share of work
\nin life
\non the door
\nwith inerasable chalk
\nand do not think
\nthat you can wipe it out
\nwith your batting eyelashes
\nand let your eyes stand still
\nstill in the middle
\nmotionless
\nfrozen
\nfrom the fright to listen to me in the grass<\/p>\n

And do not think
\nAnd don’t you dare
\nyou!
\nTo think that I am a cricket<\/p>\n

Sources \/ text
\nPeter Hartz: Die Job Revolution, Frankfurt 2003
\nMichael Lewis, Flash Boys, A Wall Street Revolt, New York, 2014
\nSources \/ picture
\nCamille Pissarro, Le repos, paysanne couch\u00e9e dans l\u00b4herbe, 1882
\nMaximilien Luce, A Street in Paris in May 1871, 1903 – 1905
\nFotos: London Riots, 2011<\/p>\n

Translated with www.DeepL.com\/Translator (free version)<\/p>\n

<\/h6>\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>
<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/section>
<\/div><\/div><\/div>
After Bewilderment
\nHannah Gregory (click for pdf)<\/span><\/a><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>
<\/div><\/div><\/div>
<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/section>
<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>

Harmonizing the Elements Within- Healing Sounds<\/strong>
\nA Neigong \u5167\u529f practice presented by Lingji Hon \u97d3\u9748\u829d<\/p>\n

I\u2019d like to offer a Taoist perspective of humanity\u2019s relation to the Universe, through sharing the
\nbeloved Chinese creation myth with you. According to the legend, before our universe began,
\nthere was merely a giant cosmic egg.
\nInside the egg, forces swirled unanimously- everything and nothing all at once.
\nThis state is known as Wuji \u7121\u6975, Supreme Nothing- or Primordial Singularity.
\nInside the egg, slept a giant named Pan Gu \u76e4\u53e4. One day, Pan Gu awoke, and being alone in
\nthis cosmic egg- he became quite bored. So he swung his axe, and cut the egg in half.
\nThe light part rose and became heaven.
\nThe heavy part sank and became earth.
\nThis state is known as Taiji \u592a\u6975, Supreme Ultimate. Primordial Polarity.
\nPan Gu was worried that heaven and earth would reunite, so he stood up to hold them apart.
\nEventually, the immense effort of separating heaven and earth exhausted him, and he died.
\nHis left eye became the sun.
\nHis right eye, the moon.
\nHis flesh became the mountains and valleys.
\nHis blood, the oceans and rivers
\nAnd his hair became the trees and flowers.
\nPan Gu not only separated heaven and earth, but his body became the new world.
\nOne day, the goddess Nu Wa \u5973\u5aa7, a goddess with the body of a woman, and the tail of a
\nsnake, found herself alone in this new world created by Pan Gu.
\nSitting on a riverbank and gazing at her reflection, she decided to create creatures in her own
\nimage.
\nSlowly, she began to mold figures out of mud from the riverbed, she blew into their mouths, and
\nthey sprang to life- the first humans!
\nLater- Nu Wa saves humanity by patching a great hole in the sky with her body- becoming the
\nsky herself.<\/p>\n

Within this legend we feel our psyche\u2019s deep memory of being beyond human, and our earliest
\nefforts to understand our relation to the vastness of the universe- body becomes the world, and
\nthe world becomes body.
\nAll elements and identities of and from our world transform interchangeably.
\nThis reflects an essential concept that is integral to Chinese culture and Taoist- the indigenous
\nreligion of China\u2019s- philosophy.
\nMacrocosm reflects Microcosm.
\nOuter mirrors inner.
\nTo understand, nurture and protect the world and the universe we live in, we must first go
\ninward, and understand, nurture and protect ourselves.
\nThere are 2 main schools of Taoist Alchemy.
\nWaidan \u5916\u4e39- External Elixir, creating potions and medicines out of plants, minerals, and other
\nsubstances from our surroundings.
\nAnd Neidan \u5167\u4e39- Internal Elixir- creating the remedy within our own body- drawing on our
\nbody\u2019s connection and resonance to nature to regenerate and heal ourselves.
\nThrough going inward and balancing the elements within- inner harmony and compassion may
\nradiate outward to nurture, heal and protect our communities and environments.<\/p>\n

Today, it is my great pleasure to share a beloved Neidan practice with you, from my Lineage-
\nLong Men Pai \u9f8d\u9580\u6d3e, the Dragon Gate Alchemical School.<\/p>\n

A practice that uses healing sounds to harmonize and balance the elements within.
\nThe essence of each of the 5 elements resides in a vital organ.
\nEach organ is associated with a color, a season, a direction, an emotional intelligence, and has
\na specific responsibility in maintaining balance and harmony within the organism, just as the
\nelements of nature must also interact and exchange with each other. There must be free flow of
\nenergy between each balanced organ for the maintain the organism’s health and wellbeing.
\nThrough internal practice we seek not only to nurture and vitalize our organs\u2019 healthy and
\nharmonious flow and exchange between one another we also seek to establish emotional
\nbalance through developing awareness and sensitivity in listening to each organ\u2019s unique
\nintelligence.<\/p>\n

The element of WOOD in Chinese 5 element theory is bamboo, which is hollow, so it is also the
\nelement of WIND. It resides in the LIVER, and is responsible for connectivity of the organism, it
\nis associated with the season Spring, the color green, the direction east, with the emotion of
\nanger- which finds completion as compassion and the desire for justice.
\nWhich is incomplete compassion.desire for justice, a sense of self-worth, and righteousness.
\nThe element of FIRE resides in the HEART- it is responsible for warming the body, and is
\nconsidered the seat of consciousness, associated with summer, the color red, the direction
\nsouth, and with the emotion of love or joy- which can become jealousy, or addiction to excessive
\nthrills when out of balance.
\nThe element of EARTH- resides in the SPLEEN- responsible for storage- associated with late
\nsummer, the color ochre *yellow* , the direction of center, and with the emotion of worry, stress,
\noverthinking- when in balance, it is restored to the will to nurture.
\nThe element of METAL resides in the LUNGS- responsible for cooling the organism, associated
\nwith autumn, the color white, the direction west, the emotion of grief- which blossoms into
\nacceptance.
\nThe element of WATER resides in the KIDNEYS- responsible for distribution- associated with
\nwinter, the color dark blue-black, the direction north, the emotion of fear when out of balance,
\nand in balance is peace, meditation, courage, instinct.
\nThis practice uses healing sounds, mudra, and gentle movements to communicate with each
\norgan, establishing balance and harmony between the vital organs and emotional equilibrium.
\nNow we will begin the practice!<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>

\"\"<\/div><\/div>

Neijing tu \u5167\u7d93\u5716- Taoist Diagram of the Inner
\nLandscape or \u201cDiagram of Interior Lights\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>

<\/div><\/div><\/div>
<\/div><\/div><\/div>
<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/section>
<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>

Wojciech Kosma<\/p>\n

rzeko rzeko
\ndlaczego
\nwci\u0105\u017c robi\u0119 ci co\u015b niewyobra\u017calnego
\nmo\u017ce \u017cebym m\u00f3g\u0142 sobie wyobrazi\u0107 siebie innego
\nrzeko rzeko
\ndlaczego
\nmusz\u0119 ci robi\u0107 wci\u0105\u017c co\u015b niewybaczalnego
\nmo\u017ce \u017cebym wybaczy\u0107 m\u00f3g\u0142 sobie co\u015b
\nrzeko rzeko
\ndlaczego sprawiam ci b\u00f3l dlaczego
\nmo\u017ce kiedy widz\u0119 ciebie cierpi\u0105c\u0105
\nzobacz\u0119 siebie cierpi\u0105cego
\ndlatego
\nprzecie\u017c ja te\u017c jestem rzek\u0105
\nprzecie\u017c ja te\u017c jestem rzek\u0105
\np\u0142yn\u0119 b\u00f3lem jak ty bardzo
\nrzeko rzeko
\ndlaczego tak wstydz\u0119 si\u0119 by\u0107 rzek\u0105
\nmamy tyle wsp\u00f3lnego
\nrzeko rzeko
\np\u0142yn\u0119 \u017calem
\nnie musz\u0119 si\u0119 wstydzi\u0107 wcale
\np\u0142yn\u0119 cierpieniem
\nwsi\u0105kam w ziemi\u0119
\njak ty wsi\u0105kam
\nrozlewam si\u0119 po \u0142\u0105kach
\nna pnie
\nna li\u015bcie
\nna kamienie
\nucz\u0119 si\u0119 od ciebie
\nrzeko rzeko
\nchc\u0119 by\u0107 jak ty tak\u0105
\nchc\u0119 by\u0107 jak ty tak\u0105
\nrzeko rzeko
\npop\u0142yn\u0119 z tob\u0105
\nzr\u00f3bmy razem b\u0142oto
\nrozlejmy si\u0119 ka\u017cd\u0105 \u0142\u0105k\u0105
\nka\u017cdym b\u00f3lem
\nnie r\u00f3\u017cnimy si\u0119 w og\u00f3le
\nczuj\u0119 to przez sk\u00f3r\u0119
\nczuj\u0119 ci\u0119 w sobie
\np\u0142yniemy obie
\np\u0142yniemy sobie
\ncierpieniem ale te\u017c eufori\u0105
\ndziko\u015bci\u0105
\nzajebisto\u015bci\u0105
\n\u017cyzno\u015bci\u0105
\ndlaczego udaj\u0119 wci\u0105\u017c
\nwci\u0105\u017c
\ni wci\u0105\u017c
\n\u017ce nie jestem rzek\u0105
\ndlaczego
\ndlaczego
\ntraktuj\u0119 ci\u0119 tak nieludzko
\nprzecie\u017c p\u0142yniemy t\u0105 sam\u0105 wod\u0105
\nprzecie\u017c p\u0142yniemy t\u0105 sam\u0105 wod\u0105
\ndlaczego krzywdz\u0119 ci\u0119 tak okrutnie
\nprzecie\u017c wsi\u0105kamy w t\u0105 sam\u0105 ziemi\u0119
\ntak samo przyja\u017animy si\u0119 z ogniem
\nz wiatrem
\nz chmurami
\nca\u0142ymi swoimi cia\u0142ami
\nca\u0142ymi swoimi smutkami
\nca\u0142ymi swoimi rado\u015bciami
\nca\u0142ymi strumieniami
\ndeszczem
\nczy mo\u017cesz mi wybaczy\u0107 jeszcze
\nczy mo\u017cesz mi wybaczy\u0107 jeszcze
\nprzyrzekam \u017ce p\u0142ynie we mnie rzeka
\nprzyrzekam \u017ce p\u0142ynie we mnie rzeka
\nprzyrzekam \u017ce p\u0142ynie we mnie rzeka
\nprzyrzakam \u017ce nie b\u0119d\u0119 udawa\u0142 \u017ce nie p\u0142ynie we mnie rzeka<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

river oh river
\nwhy
\ndo i keep doing the unimaginable to you
\nmaybe so that I can imagine myself differently
\nriver oh river
\nwhy
\ndo i have to keep doing something unforgivable to you
\nmaybe so that i can forgive myself
\nriver oh river
\nwhy do i cause you pain why
\nmaybe when i see you suffering
\ni will see myself suffering
\nthat’s why
\nbecause i too am a river
\ni am a river too
\ni flow with pain like you very much
\nriver oh river
\nwhy am i so ashamed to be a river
\nwe have so much in common
\nriver oh river
\ni’m flowing with grief
\ni’m not ashamed
\ni flow with suffering
\ni soak in the earth
\nlike you i soak
\ni spill over the meadows
\non the trunks
\non the leaves
\non the stones
\ni learn from you
\nriver oh river
\ni want to be like you
\ni want to be like you
\nriver oh river
\ni’ll flow with you
\nlet’s make mud together
\nlet’s spill on every meadow
\nevery pain
\nwe are not different
\ni can feel it through my skin
\ni can feel you inside me
\nwe both flow
\nwe flow with each other
\nwith suffering but also with euphoria
\nferocity
\nawesomeness
\nfertility
\nwhy do i keep pretending
\non and on
\nthat I’m not a river
\nwhy
\nwhy
\ndo i treat you so inhumanly
\nwe’re flowing with the same water
\nwe’re flowing with the same water
\nwhy do i hurt you so cruelly
\nafter all we soak in the same soil
\nwe are friends in the same way with fire
\nwith wind
\nwith clouds
\nwith the the entirety of our bodies
\nwith the entirety of our sorrows
\nwith the entirety of our joys
\nwith entire streams
\nrain
\ncan you still forgive me
\ncan you still forgive me
\ni swear there’s a river inside me
\ni swear there’s a river inside me
\ni swear there’s a river inside me
\ni swear i won’t pretend that there isn’t a river inside me<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>

<\/div><\/div><\/div>
<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/section>
<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>

Abridged version of Underground Man<\/em> by Gabriel Tarde, translated by Cloudesley Brereton.
\nFirst published in 1896 as Fragment d\u2019histoire future<\/em>. Edited by Thomas Love<\/p>\n

It was towards the end of the twentieth century of the prehistoric era, formerly called the
\nChristian, that took place, as is well known, the unexpected catastrophe with which the present
\nepoch began, that fortunate disaster which compelled the overflowing flood of civilisation to
\ndisappear for the benefit of mankind.<\/p>\n

The zenith of human prosperity seemed to have been reached in the superficial and
\nfrivolous sense of the word. For the last fifty years, the final establishment of the great Asiatic-
\nAmerican-European confederacy, and its indisputable supremacy over what was still left, here
\nand there, in Oceania and central Africa of barbarous tribes incapable of assimilation, had
\nhabituated all the nations, now converted into provinces, to the delights of universal and
\nhenceforth inviolable peace. It had required not less than 150 years of warfare to arrive at this
\nwonderful result. Yet of all this warlike mania there only remained a vague poetic remembrance.
\nForgetfulness is the beginning of happiness, as fear is the beginning of wisdom.<\/p>\n

The Universe breathed again. It yawned a little no doubt, but it revelled for the first time
\nin the fulness of peace, in the almost gratuitous abundance of every kind of wealth. It burst into
\nthe most brilliant efflorescence, or rather display of poetry and art, but especially of luxury, that
\nthe world had as yet seen. It was just at that moment an extraordinary alarm of a novel kind,
\njustly provoked by the astronomical observations made on the tower of Babel, which had been
\nrebuilt as an Eiffel Tower on an enlarged scale, began to spread among the terrified populations.<\/p>\n

On several occasions already the sun had given evident signs of weakness. From year to
\nyear his spots increased in size and number, and his heat sensibly diminished. People were lost in
\nconjecture. Was his fuel giving out? Had he just traversed in his journey through space an
\nexceptionally cold region? No one knew. Whatever the reason was, the public concerned itself
\nlittle about the matter, as in all that is gradual and not sudden. The \u201csolar an\u00e6mia\u201d\u2026 had merely
\nbecome the subject of several rather smart articles in the reviews. In general, the\u00a0savants, in their
\nwell-warmed studies, affected to disbelieve in the fall of temperature, and, in spite of the formal
\nindications of the thermometer, they did not cease to repeat that the dogma of slow evolution,
\nand of the conservation of energy combined with the classical nebular hypothesis, forbade the
\nadmission of a sufficiently rapid cooling of the solar mass to make itself felt during the short
\nduration of a century, much more so during that of five years or a year.<\/p>\n

However, the winter of 2489 was so disastrous, it was actually necessary to take the
\nthreatening predictions of the alarmists seriously. One reached the point of fearing at any
\nmoment a \u201csolar apoplexy.\u201d That was the title of a sensational pamphlet which went through
\ntwenty thousand editions. The return of the spring was anxiously awaited.<\/p>\n

The spring returned at last, and the starry monarch reappeared, but his golden crown was
\ngone, and he himself well-nigh unrecognisable. He was entirely red. The meadows were no
\nlonger green, the sky was no longer blue\u2026 all had suddenly changed colour as in a
\ntransformation scene. Then, by degrees, from the red that he was he became orange. And so
\nduring several years he was seen to pass, and all nature with him, through a thousand
\nmagnificent or terrible tints\u2014from orange to yellow, from yellow to green, and from green at
\nlength to indigo and pale blue. So many colours, so many new decorations of the chameleon-like
\nuniverse which dazzled the terrified eye, which revived and restored to its primitive sharpness
\nthe rejuvenated sensation of the beauties of nature, and strongly stirred the depths of men\u2019s souls
\nby renewing the former aspect of things.<\/p>\n

At the same time disaster succeeded disaster. The entire population of Norway, Northern
\nRussia, and Siberia perished, frozen to death in a single night; the temperate zone was decimated,
\nand what was left of its inhabitants fled before the enormous drifts of snow and ice, and
\nemigrated by hundreds of millions towards the tropics. The telegraph successively informed the
\ncapital, now of immense trains caught in the tunnels under the Pyrenees, the Alps, the Caucasus,
\nor Himalayas, in which they were imprisoned by enormous avalanches, which blocked
\nsimultaneously the two issues; now that some of the largest rivers of the world\u2014the Rhine, for
\ninstance, and the Danube\u2014had ceased to flow, completely frozen to the bottom, from which
\nresulted a drought, followed by an indescribable famine, which obliged thousands of mothers to
\ndevour their own children. What calamities! What horrors! My pen confesses its impotence to
\nretrace them. Besides how can we tell the story of disasters which were so complete they often
\nsimultaneously overwhelmed under snow-drifts a hundred yards deep all that witnessed them, to
\nthe very last man.<\/p>\n

All that we know for certain is what took place at the time towards the end of the twenty-
\nfifth century in a little district of Arabia Petr\u00e6a. Thither had flocked for refuge, in one horde
\nafter another, wave after wave, with host upon host frozen one on the top of another, as they
\nadvanced, the few millions of human creatures who survived of the hundreds of millions that had
\ndisappeared. They transported hither by reason of the relative warmth of its climate, I will not
\nsay the seat of Government\u2014for, alas! Terror alone reigned\u2014but an immense stove which took
\nits place. Of the beautiful human race, so strong and noble, formed by so many centuries of effort
\nand genius by such an intelligent and extended selection, there would soon have been only left a
\nfew thousands, a few hundreds of haggard and trembling specimens, unique trustees of the last
\nruins of what had once been civilisation.<\/p>\n

In this extremity a man arose who did not despair of humanity. His name has been
\npreserved for us. By a singular coincidence he was called Miltiades, like another saviour of
\nHellenism. In the middle of the central state shelter, a huge vaulted hall with walls ten yards
\nthick, without windows, surrounded with a hundred gigantic furnaces, and perpetually lit up by
\ntheir hundred flaming maws, Miltiades one day appeared.<\/p>\n

The remnant of the flower of humanity, of both sexes, splendid even in its misery, was
\nhuddled together there. They did not consist of the great men of science with their bald pates, nor
\neven the great actresses, nor the great writers, whose inspiration had deserted them, nor the
\nconsequential ones now past their prime, but the enthusiastic heirs of their traditions, their
\nsecrets, and also of their vacant chairs, that is to say, their pupils, full of talent and promise. Not
\na single university professor was there, but a crowd of deputies and assistants; not a single
\nminister, but a crowd of young secretaries of state. Not a single mother of a family, but a bevy of
\nartists\u2019 models, admirably formed, and inured against the cold by the practice of posing for the
\nnude; above all, a number of fashionable beauties, who had been likewise saved by the excellent
\nhygienic effect of daily wearing low dresses, without taking into account the warmth of their
\ntemperament. Among them it was impossible not to notice the Princess Lydia, owing to her tall
\nand exquisite figure, the brilliancy of her dress and her wit, of her dark eyes and fair complexion,
\nowing in fact to the radiance of her whole person. She had carried off the prize at the last grand
\ninternational beauty competition, and was accounted the reigning beauty of the drawing-rooms
\nof Babylon. What a different set of individuals from that which the spectator formerly surveyed
\nthrough his opera-glass from the top of the galleries of the so-called Chamber of Deputies!
\nYouth, beauty, genius, love, infinite treasures of science and art, writers whose pens were of pure
\ngold, artists with marvellous technique, singers one raved about, all that was left of refinement
\nand culture on the earth, was concentrated in this last knot of human beings, which blossomed
\nunder the snow like a tuft of rhododendrons, or of Alpine roses at the foot of some mountain
\nsummit. But what dejection had fallen on these fair flowers! How sadly drooped these manifold
\ngraces!<\/p>\n

At the sudden apparition of Miltiades every brow was lifted, every eye was fastened upon
\nhim. He was tall, lean, and wizened, in spite of the false plumpness of his thick white furs. He
\nrequested leave to speak. It was granted him. He mounted a platform, and such a profound
\nsilence ensued, one might have heard the snow falling outside, in spite of the thickness of the
\nwalls.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe situation is serious,\u201d said he, \u201cnothing like it has been seen since the geological
\nepochs. The hour has come to ascertain to what extent it is true to say and to keep on repeating,
\nthat all our energy, all our strength, whether physical or moral, comes to us from the sun. The
\ncalculation has been made: in two years, three months, and six days, if there still remains a
\nmorsel of coal there will not remain a morsel of bread! Therefore, if the source of all force, of all
\nmotion, and all life is in the sun, and in the sun alone, there is no ground for self-delusion: in two
\nyears, three months, and six days, the genius of man will be quenched, and through the gloomy
\nheavens the corpse of mankind, like a Siberian mammoth, will roll for everlasting, incapable
\nforever of resurrection.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut is that the case? No, it is not, it cannot be the case. With all the energy of my heart,
\nwhich does not come from the sun\u2014that energy which comes from the earth, from our mother
\nearth buried there below, far, far away, forever hidden from our eyes\u2014I protest against this vain
\ntheory, and against so many articles of faith and religion which I have been obliged hitherto to
\nendure in silence. The earth is the contemporary of the sun, and not its daughter; the earth was
\nformerly a luminous star like the sun, only sooner extinct. It is only on the surface that the earth
\nis devoid of movement, frozen and paralysed. Its bosom is ever warm and burning. It has only
\nconcentrated its fire within itself in order to preserve it better. There lies a virgin force that is
\nunexploited, a force superior to all that the sun has been able to generate for our industry by
\nwaterfalls which to-day are frozen, by cyclones which now have ceased, by tides which to-day
\nare suspended; a force in which our engineers, with a little initiative, will find a hundredfold the
\nequivalent of the motive power they have lost. It is no more by this gesture (the speaker raises
\nhis finger to heaven), that the hope of salvation should henceforth be expressed, it is by this one.
\n(He lowers his right hand towards the earth….) We must say no more: ‘Up there!’ but, ‘below!’
\nLet us descend into these depths; let us make these abysses our sure retreat. The earth calls us to
\nits inner self. For many centuries it has lived separated, so to say, from its children, the living
\ncreatures it produced outside during its period of fecundity before the cooling of its crust! After
\nits crust cooled, the rays of a distant star alone, it is true, have maintained on this dead epidermis
\ntheir artificial and superficial life which has been a stranger to her own. But this schism has
\nlasted too long. It is imperative that it should cease. It is time to follow Empedocles, Ulysses,
\n\u00c6neas, Dante, to the gloomy abodes of the underworld, to plunge mankind again in the fountain
\nfrom which it sprang, to effect the complete restoration of the exiled soul to the land of its birth!\u201d<\/p>\n

The speaker next entered into lengthy details on the Neo-troglodytism which he
\npretended to inaugurate as the acme of civilization. He had no trouble in proving that, on
\ncondition of burrowing sufficiently deep into the ground below, they would find a deliciously
\ngentle warmth, an Elysian temperature. It would be enough to excavate, enlarge, heighten, and
\nextend the galleries of already existing mines in order to render them habitable and comfortable
\ninto the bargain. The electric light, supplied entirely without expense by the scattered centres of
\nthe fire within, would provide for the magnificent illumination both by day and night of these
\ncolossal crypts, these marvellous cloisters, indefinitely extended and embellished by successive
\ngenerations. With a good system of ventilation, all danger of suffocation or of foulness of air
\nwould be avoided. In short, after a more or less long period of settling in, civilised life could
\nunfold anew in all its intellectual, artistic, and fashionable splendour, as freely as it did in the
\ncapricious and intermittent light of natural day, and even perhaps more surely.<\/p>\n

Miltiades continued: \u201cHowever extraordinary the catastrophe which has befallen us and
\nthe means of escape which is left us may seem in appearance, a little reflection will suffice to
\nprove to us that the predicament in which we are, must have been repeated a thousand times
\nalready in the immensity of the universe, and must have been cleared up in the same fashion,
\nbeing inevitably and normally the final phase in the life-drama of every star. The astronomers
\nknow that every sun is bound to become extinct; they know, therefore, that in addition to the
\nluminous and visible stars, there are in the heavens an infinitely greater number of extinct and
\nrayless stars which continue endlessly to revolve with their train of planets, doomed to an
\neternity of night and cold. Well, if this is the case, I ask you: Can we suppose that life, thought,
\nand love, are the exclusive privilege of an infinite minority of solar systems still possessed of
\nlight and heat, and deny to the immense majority of gloomy stars every manifestation of life and
\nanimation, the very highest reason for their existence? Thus lifelessness, death, the void in
\nmovement would be the rule; and life the exception! Thus the nine-tenths, the ninety-nine
\nhundredths, perhaps, of the solar systems, would idly revolve like senseless and gigantic mill-
\nwheels, a useless encumbrance of space. That is impossible and idiotic, that is blasphemous. Let
\nus have more faith in the unknown! Truth, here as everywhere else, is without doubt the
\nantipodes of appearance. All that glitters is not gold. These splendid constellations which attempt
\nto dazzle us are themselves relatively barren. Their light, what is it? A transient glory, a ruinous
\nluxury, an ostentatious squandering of energy, born of illimitable senselessness. But when the
\nstars have sown their wild oats, then the serious task of their life begins, they develop their inner
\nresources. For frozen and sunless without, they literally preserve in their inviolate centres their
\nunquenchable fire, defended by the very layers of ice. There, finally, is to be relit the lamp of
\nlife, banished from the surface above. For a last time, therefore, let us look upwards in order
\nthere to find hope. Up there innumerable races of mankind underground, buried, to their supreme
\njoy, in the catacombs of invisible stars, encourage us by their example. Let us act like them, let
\nus like them withdraw to the interior of our planet. Like them, let us bury ourselves in order to
\nrise again, and like them let us carry with us into our tomb, all that is worthy to survive of our
\nprevious existence.<\/p>\n

\u201cIn our new ark, mysterious, impenetrable, indestructible, we shall carry with us neither
\nplants nor animals. These types of existence are annihilated; these rough drafts in creation, these
\nfumbling experiments of Earth in quest of the human form are forever blotted out. Let us not
\nregret it. In place of so many pairs of animals which take up so much room, of so many useless
\nseeds, we will carry with us into our retreat the harmonious garland of all the truths in perfect
\naccord with one another; of all artistic and poetic beauties, which are all members one of another,
\nunited like sisters, which human genius has brought to light in the course of ages and multiplied
\nthereafter in millions of copies: all of which will be destroyed save a single one, which it will be
\nour task to guarantee against all danger of destruction. We shall establish a vast library
\ncontaining all the principal works, enriched with cinematographic albums. We shall set up a vast
\nmuseum composed of single specimens of all the schools, of all the styles of the masters in
\narchitecture, sculpture, painting, and even music. These are our real treasures, our real seed for
\nfuture harvests, our gods for whom we will do battle till our latest breath.\u201d<\/p>\n

The speaker stepped down from the platform in the midst of indescribable enthusiasm:
\nthe ladies crowded round him. They deputed Lydia to bestow on him a kiss in the name of them
\nall. Blushing with modesty the latter obeyed, and the applause redoubled. The thermometers of
\nthe shelter rose several degrees in a few minutes.<\/p>\n

Never was so magnificent a plan so promptly carried out. From that very day all these
\nexquisite and delicate hands set to work, aided, it is true, by incomparable machines. Before a
\nyear was out the galleries of the mines had become sufficiently large and comfortable,
\nsufficiently decorated even and brilliantly lighted, to receive the vast and priceless collections of
\nall kinds, which it was their object to place in safety there, in view of the future. The day at
\nlength arrived on which, all the intellectual inheritance of the past, all the real capital of
\nhumanity having been rescued from the general shipwreck, the castaways were able to go down
\nin their turn, having henceforth only to think of their own preservation. How great in fact was
\ntheir amazement and their ecstasy! They expected a tomb; they opened their eyes in the most
\nbrilliant and interminable galleries of art they could possibly see, in\u00a0salons\u00a0more beautiful than
\nthose of Versailles, in enchanted palaces, in which all extremes of climate, rain, and wind, cold
\nand torrid heat were unknown; where innumerable lamps, veritable suns in brilliancy and moons
\nin softness, shed unceasingly through the blue depths their daylight that knew no night.<\/p>\n

In truth, if our change of condition has demanded some sacrifices, it is not an illusion to
\ndeclare that the balance of advantage is immensely greater. What in comparison with this
\nunparalleled revolution is the most renowned of the petty revolutions of the past which to-day
\nare treated so lightly, and rightly so, by our historians. One wonders how the first inhabitants of
\nthese underground dwellings could, even for a moment, regret the sun, a mode of lighting that
\nbristled with so many inconveniences. The sun was a capricious luminary which went out and
\nwas relit at variable hours, shone when it felt disposed, sometimes was eclipsed, or hid itself
\nbehind the clouds when one had most need of it, or pitilessly blinded one at the very moment one
\nyearned for shade! Every night,\u2014do we really realise the full force of the
\ninconvenience?\u2014every night the sun commanded social life to desist and social life desisted.
\nHumanity was actually to that extent the slave of nature! To think it never succeeded in, never
\neven dreamed of, freeing itself from this slavery which weighed so heavily and unconsciously on
\nits destinies, on the course of its progress thus straitened and confined! Ah! Let us once more
\nbless our fortunate disaster!<\/p>\n

Now that after many abortive trials and agonizing convulsions it has succeeded in taking
\nits final shape, we can clearly establish the essential characteristics of this modern civilisation of
\nwhich we are so justly proud. It consists in the complete elimination of living nature, whether
\nanimal or vegetable, man only excepted. That has produced, so to say, a purification of society.
\nSecluded thus from every influence of the natural milieu into which it was hitherto plunged and
\nconfined, the social milieu was for the first time able to reveal and display its true virtues, and
\nthe real social bond appeared in all its vigour and purity.<\/p>\n

If it has been possible for us to realise the most perfect and the most intense social life
\nthat has ever been seen, it is thanks to the extreme simplicity of our strictly so-called wants. The
\nquota of absolute necessities being thus reduced to almost nothing, the quota of superfluities has
\nbeen able to be extended to almost everything. Since we live on so little, there remains abundant
\ntime for thought. A minimum of utilitarian work and a maximum of \u00e6sthetic, is surely
\ncivilisation itself in its most essential element. The room left vacant in the heart by the reduction
\nof our wants is taken up by the talents\u2014those artistic, poetic, and scientific talents which, as they
\nday by day multiply and take deeper root, become really and truly acquired wants. They really
\nspring, however, from a necessity to produce, and not from a necessity to consume. I underline
\nthis difference.<\/p>\n

The error, at present recognised, of those ancient visionaries called socialists was their
\nfailure to see that this life in common, this intense social life, they dreamt of so ardently, had for
\nits indispensable condition the \u00e6sthetic life and the universal propagation of the religion of truth
\nand beauty. The latter assumes the drastic lopping off of numerous personal wants. Consequently
\nin rushing, as they did, into an exaggerated development of commercial life, they were marching
\nin the opposite direction to their own goal. We can now comprehend the depth of the truly social
\nrevolution which was accomplished from the days when the \u00e6sthetic activity, by dint of ever
\ngrowing, ended by vanquishing utilitarian activity. Henceforth in place of the relation of
\nproducer to consumer has been substituted, as preponderating element in human dealings, the
\nrelation of the artist to the art-lover. The ancient social ideal was to seek amusement or self-
\nsatisfaction apart and to render mutual service. For this we substitute the following: to be one’s
\nown servant and mutually to delight one another. Henceforward, to insist once more, society
\nreposes, not on the exchange of services, but on the exchange of admiration or criticism, of
\nfavourable or unfavourable judgments. The anarchical regime of greed in all its forms has been
\nsucceeded by the autocratic government of enlightened opinion which has become supreme.<\/p>\n

Now there is but a single passion for all its thousand names, as there is above but a single
\nsun. It is love, the soul of our soul and source of our art. That is the true sun which will never fail
\nus, which is never weary of touching and reanimating with the light of its countenance its lower
\ncreations of yore, the first-born incarnations of the heart, in order to make them young once
\nmore, in order to re-gild them with its dawns, and reincarnadine them with its setting splendours;
\nalmost in the same fashion as it sufficed the other sun to compass with a single ray that august
\nsummons to deck the earth, addressed to every ancient plant of the field, awakening it to bloom
\nanew, that grand yearly transformation scene, so deceptive and entrancing, which they named the
\nSpring, when there was still a Spring to name!<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>

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–> english<\/span><\/a><\/div>

Markues<\/p>\n

VON DER SCHENKENDEN TUGEND aus Also sprach Zarathustra von Friedrich Nietzsche
\n1
\nAls Zarathustra von der Stadt Abschied genommen hatte, welcher sein Herz zugethan war und deren Name lautet: \u201edie bunte Kuh\u201c \u2014 folgten ihm Viele, die sich seine J\u00fcnger nannten und gaben ihm das Geleit. Also kamen sie an einen Kreuzweg: da sagte ihnen Zarathustra, dass er nunmehr allein gehen wolle; denn er war ein Freund des Alleingehens. Seine J\u00fcnger aber reichten ihm zum Abschiede einen Stab, an dessen goldnem Griffe sich eine Schlange um die Sonne ringelte. Zarathustra freute sich des Stabes und st\u00fctzte sich darauf; dann sprach er also zu seinen J\u00fcngern:
\nSagt mir doch: wie kam Gold zum h\u00f6chsten Werthe? Darum, dass es ungemein ist und unn\u00fctzlich und leuchtend und mild im Glanze; es schenkt sich immer.
\nNur als Abbild der h\u00f6chsten Tugend kam Gold zum h\u00f6chsten Werthe. Goldgleich leuchtet der Blick dem Schenkenden. Goldes-Glanz schliesst Friede zwischen Mond und Sonne.
\nUngemein ist die h\u00f6chste Tugend und unn\u00fctzlich, leuchtend ist sie und mild im Glanze: eine schenkende Tugend ist die h\u00f6chste Tugend.
\nWahrlich, ich errathe euch wohl, meine J\u00fcnger: ihr trachtet, gleich mir, nach der schenkenden Tugend. Was h\u00e4ttet ihr mit Katzen und W\u00f6lfen gemeinsam?
\nDas ist euer Durst, selber zu Opfern und Geschenken zu werden: und darum habt ihr den Durst, alle Reichth\u00fcmer in eure Seele zu h\u00e4ufen.
\nUners\u00e4ttlich trachtet eure Seele nach Sch\u00e4tzen und Kleinodien, weil eure Tugend uners\u00e4ttlich ist im Verschenken-Wollen.
\nIhr zwingt alle Dinge zu euch und in euch, dass sie aus eurem Borne zur\u00fcckstr\u00f6men sollen als die Gaben eurer Liebe.
\nWahrlich, zum R\u00e4uber an allen Werthen muss solche schenkende Liebe werden; aber heil und heilig heisse ich diese Selbstsucht.
\nEine andre Selbstsucht giebt es, eine allzuarme, eine hungernde, die immer stehlen will, jene Selbstsucht der Kranken, die kranke Selbstsucht.
\nMit dem Auge des Diebes blickt sie auf alles Gl\u00e4nzende; mit der Gier des Hungers misst sie Den, der reich zu essen hat; und immer schleicht sie um den Tisch der Schenkenden.
\nKrankheit redet aus solcher Begierde und unsichtbare Entartung; von siechem Leibe redet die diebische Gier dieser Selbstsucht.
\nSagt mir, meine Br\u00fcder: was gilt uns als Schlechtes und Schlechtestes? Ist es nicht Entartung? \u2014 Und auf Entartung rathen wir immer, wo die schenkende Seele fehlt.
\nAufw\u00e4rts geht unser Weg, von der Art hin\u00fcber zur \u00dcber-Art. Aber ein Grauen ist uns der entartende Sinn, welcher spricht: \u201eAlles f\u00fcr mich.\u201c
\nAufw\u00e4rts fliegt unser Sinn: so ist er ein Gleichniss unsres Leibes, einer Erh\u00f6hung Gleichniss. Solcher Erh\u00f6hungen Gleichnisse sind die Namen der Tugenden.
\nAlso geht der Leib durch die Geschichte, ein Werdender und ein K\u00e4mpfender. Und der Geist \u2014 was ist er ihm? Seiner K\u00e4mpfe und Siege Herold, Genoss und Wiederhall.
\nGleichnisse sind alle Namen von Gut und B\u00f6se: sie sprechen nicht aus, sie winken nur. Ein Thor, welcher von ihnen Wissen will!
\nAchtet mir, meine Br\u00fcder, auf jede Stunde, wo euer Geist in Gleichnissen reden will: da ist der Ursprung eurer Tugend.
\nErh\u00f6ht ist da euer Leib und auferstanden; mit seiner Wonne entz\u00fcckt er den Geist, dass er Sch\u00f6pfer wird und Sch\u00e4tzer und Liebender und aller Dinge Wohlth\u00e4ter.
\nWenn euer Herz breit und voll wallt, dem Strome gleich, ein Segen und eine Gefahr den Anwohnenden: da ist der Ursprung eurer Tugend.
\nWenn ihr erhaben seid \u00fcber Lob und Tadel, und euer Wille allen Dingen befehlen will, als eines Liebenden Wille: da ist der Ursprung eurer Tugend.
\nWenn ihr das Angenehme verachtet und das weiche Bett, und von den Weichlichen euch nicht weit genug betten k\u00f6nnt: da ist der Ursprung eurer Tugend.
\nWenn ihr Eines Willens Wollende seid, und diese Wende aller Noth euch Nothwendigkeit heisst: da ist der Ursprung eurer Tugend.
\nWahrlich, ein neues Gutes und B\u00f6ses ist sie! Wahrlich, ein neues tiefes Rauschen und eines neuen Quelles Stimme!
\nMacht ist sie, diese neue Tugend; ein herrschender Gedanke ist sie und um ihn eine kluge Seele: eine goldene Sonne und um sie die Schlange der Erkenntniss.<\/p>\n

2
\nHier schwieg Zarathustra eine Weile und sah mit Liebe auf seine J\u00fcnger. Dann fuhr er also fort zu reden: \u2014 und seine Stimme hatte sich verwandelt.
\nBleibt mir der Erde treu, meine Br\u00fcder, mit der Macht eurer Tugend! Eure schenkende Liebe und eure Erkenntniss diene dem Sinn der Erde! Also bitte und beschw\u00f6re ich euch.
\nLasst sie nicht davon fliegen vom Irdischen und mit den Fl\u00fcgeln gegen ewige W\u00e4nde schlagen! Ach, es gab immer so viel verflogene Tugend!
\nF\u00fchrt, gleich mir, die verflogene Tugend zur Erde zur\u00fcck \u2014 ja, zur\u00fcck zu Leib und Leben: dass sie der Erde ihren Sinn gebe, einen Menschen-Sinn!
\nHundertf\u00e4ltig verflog und vergriff sich bisher so Geist wie Tugend. Ach, in unserm Leibe wohnt jetzt noch all dieser Wahn und Fehlgriff: Leib und Wille ist er da geworden.
\nHundertf\u00e4ltig versuchte und verirrte sich bisher so Geist wie Tugend. Ja, ein Versuch war der Mensch. Ach, viel Unwissen und Irrthum ist an uns Leib geworden!
\nNicht nur die Vernunft von Jahrtausenden \u2014 auch ihr Wahnsinn bricht an uns aus. Gef\u00e4hrlich ist es, Erbe zu sein.
\nNoch k\u00e4mpfen wir Schritt um Schritt mit dem Riesen Zufall, und \u00fcber der ganzen Menschheit waltete bisher noch der Unsinn, der Ohne-Sinn.
\nEuer Geist und eure Tugend diene dem Sinn der Erde, meine Br\u00fcder: und aller Dinge Werth werde neu von euch gesetzt! Darum sollt ihr K\u00e4mpfende sein! Darum sollt ihr Schaffende sein!
\nWissend reinigt sich der Leib; mit Wissen versuchend erh\u00f6ht er sich; dem Erkennenden heiligen sich alle Triebe; dem Erh\u00f6hten wird die Seele fr\u00f6hlich.
\nArzt, hilf dir selber: so hilfst du auch deinem Kranken noch. Das sei seine beste H\u00fclfe, dass er Den mit Augen sehe, der sich selber heil macht.
\nTausend Pfade giebt es, die nie noch gegangen sind; tausend Gesundheiten und verborgene Eilande des Lebens. Unersch\u00f6pft und unentdeckt ist immer noch Mensch und Menschen-Erde.
\nWachet und horcht, ihr Einsamen! Von der Zukunft her kommen Winde mit heimlichem Fl\u00fcgelschlagen; und an feine Ohren ergeht gute Botschaft.
\nIhr Einsamen von heute, ihr Ausscheidenden, ihr sollt einst ein Volk sein: aus euch, die ihr euch selber ausw\u00e4hltet, soll ein auserw\u00e4hltes Volk erwachsen: \u2014 und aus ihm der \u00dcbermensch.
\nWahrlich, eine St\u00e4tte der Genesung soll noch die Erde werden! Und schon liegt ein neuer Geruch um sie, ein Heil bringender, \u2014 und eine neue Hoffnung!<\/p>\n

3
\nAls Zarathustra diese Worte gesagt hatte, schwieg er, wie Einer, der nicht sein letztes Wort gesagt hat; lange wog er den Stab zweifelnd in seiner Hand. Endlich sprach er also: \u2014 und seine Stimme hatte sich verwandelt.
\nAllein gehe ich nun, meine J\u00fcnger! Auch ihr geht nun davon und allein! So will ich es.
\nWahrlich, ich rathe euch: geht fort von mir und wehrt euch gegen Zarathustra! Und besser noch: sch\u00e4mt euch seiner! Vielleicht betrog er euch.
\nDer Mensch der Erkenntniss muss nicht nur seine Feinde lieben, sondern auch seine Freunde hassen k\u00f6nnen.
\nMan vergilt einem Lehrer schlecht, wenn man immer nur der Sch\u00fcler bleibt. Und warum wollt ihr nicht an meinem Kranze rupfen?
\nIhr verehrt mich; aber wie, wenn eure Verehrung eines Tages umf\u00e4llt? H\u00fctet euch, dass euch nicht eine Bilds\u00e4ule erschlage!
\nIhr sagt, ihr glaubt an Zarathustra? Aber was liegt an Zarathustra! Ihr seid meine Gl\u00e4ubigen: aber was liegt an allen Gl\u00e4ubigen!
\nIhr hattet euch noch nicht gesucht: da fandet ihr mich. So thun alle Gl\u00e4ubigen; darum ist es so wenig mit allem Glauben.
\nNun heisse ich euch, mich verlieren und euch finden; und erst, wenn ihr mich Alle verleugnet habt, will ich euch wiederkehren.
\nWahrlich, mit andern Augen, meine Br\u00fcder, werde ich mir dann meine Verlorenen suchen; mit einer anderen Liebe werde ich euch dann lieben.
\nUnd einst noch sollt ihr mir Freunde geworden sein und Kinder Einer Hoffnung: dann will ich zum dritten Male bei euch sein, dass ich den grossen Mittag mit euch feiere.
\nUnd das ist der grosse Mittag, da der Mensch auf der Mitte seiner Bahn steht zwischen Thier und \u00dcbermensch und seinen Weg zum Abende als seine h\u00f6chste Hoffnung feiert: denn es ist der Weg zu einem neuen Morgen.
\nAlsda wird sich der Untergehende selber segnen, dass er ein Hin\u00fcbergehender sei; und die Sonne seiner Erkenntniss wird ihm im Mittage stehn.
\n\u201eTodt sind alle G\u00f6tter: nun wollen wir, dass der \u00dcbermensch lebe.\u201c \u2014 diess sei einst am grossen Mittage unser letzter Wille! \u2014
\nAlso sprach Zarathustra.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>

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ON THE BESTOWING VIRTUE from Thus Spoke Zarathustra by Friedrich Nietzsche, translated by Adrian Del Caro
\n1
\nWhen Zarathustra had taken leave of the city, which was dear to his heart and whose name was The Motley Cow, many who called themselves his disciples followed him, and they provided him escort. Thus they came to a crossroads; then Zarathustra told them he wanted to walk alone now, for he was a friend of walking alone. In parting, however, his disciples presented him with a staff upon whose golden knob a snake encircled the sun. Zarathustra was delighted with the staff and leaned on it; then he spoke thus to his disciples.
\nTell me now: how did gold come to have the highest value? Because it is uncommon and useless and gleaming and mild in its luster; it bestows itself always.
\nOnly as the image of the highest virtue did gold come to have the highest value. Goldlike gleams the gaze of the bestower. Golden luster makes peace between moon and sun.
\nUncommon is the highest virtue and useless, it is gleaming and mild in its luster: a bestowing virtue is the highest virtue.
\nTruly, I guess youwell,my disciples: likemeyou strive for the bestowing virtue. What would you have in common with cats or wolves?
\nThis is your thirst: to become sacrifices and gifts yourselves, and therefore you thirst to amass all riches in your soul.
\nInsatiably your soul strives for treasures and gems, because your virtue is insatiable in wanting to bestow.
\nYou compel all things to and into yourselves, so that they may gush back from your well as the gifts of your love.
\nIndeed, such a bestowing love must become a robber of all values, but hale and holy I call this selfishness.
\nThere is another selfishness, one all too poor, a hungering one that always wants to steal; that selfishness of the sick, the sick selfishness. With the eye of the thief it looks at all that gleams; with the greed of hunger it eyes those with ample food; and always it creeps around the table of the bestowers.
\nSickness speaks out of such craving and invisible degeneration; the thieving greed of this selfishness speaks of a diseased body.
\nTell me, my brothers: what do we regard as bad and worst? Is it not degeneration?\u2013Andwe always diagnose degeneration where the bestowing soul is absent.
\nUpward goes our way, over from genus to super-genus. But a horror to us is the degenerating sense which speaks: \u201cEverything for me.\u201d
\nUpward flies our sense; thus it is a parable of our body, a parable of elevation. Such elevation parables are the names of the virtues.
\nThus the body goes through history, becoming and fighting. And the spirit \u2013 what is it to the body? The herald of its fights and victories, companion and echo.
\nParables are all names of good and evil: they do not express, they only hint. A fool who wants to know of them!
\nPay attention, my brothers, to every hour where your spirit wants to speak in parables: there is the origin of your virtue.
\nThere your body is elevated and resurrected; with its bliss it delights the spirit, which becomes creator and esteemer and lover and benefactor of all things.
\nWhen your heart flows broad and full like a river, a blessing and a danger to adjacent dwellers: there is the origin of your virtue.
\nWhen you are sublimely above praise and blame, and your will wants to command all things, as the will of a lover: there is the origin of your virtue.
\nWhen you despise pleasantness and the soft bed, and cannot bed down far enough away from the softies: there is the origin of your virtue.
\nWhen you are the ones who will with a single will, and this turning point of all need points to your necessity: there is the origin of your virtue. Indeed, it is a new good and evil! Indeed, a new, deep rushing and the voice of a new spring!
\nIt is power, this new virtue; it is a ruling thought and around it a wise soul: a golden sun and around it the snake of knowledge.<\/p>\n

2
\nHere Zarathustra was silent for a while and looked with love at his disciples. Then he continued to speak thus \u2013 and his voice had transformed.
\nRemain faithful to the earth,my brothers, with the power of your virtue! Let your bestowing love and your knowledge serve the meaning of the earth! Thus I beg and beseech you.
\nDo not let it fly away from earthly things and beat against eternal walls with its wings! Oh, there has always been so much virtue that flew away!
\nLike me, guide the virtue that has flown away back to the earth \u2013 yes, back to the body and life: so that it may give the earth its meaning, a human meaning!
\nIn a hundred ways thus far the spirit as well as virtue has flown away and failed. Oh, in our body now all this delusion and failure dwells: there they have become body and will.
\nIn a hundred ways thus far spirit as well as virtue has essayed and erred. Indeed, human beings were an experiment. Alas, much ignorance and error have become embodied in us!
\nNot only the reason of millennia \u2013 their madness too breaks out in us. It is dangerous to be an heir.
\nStill we struggle step by step with the giant called accident, and over all humanity thus far nonsense has ruled, the sense-less.
\nLet your spirit and your virtue serve the meaning of the earth, my brothers: and the value of all things will be posited newlyby you! Therefore you shall be fighters! Therefore you shall be creators!
\nKnowingly the body purifies itself; experimenting with knowledge it elevates itself; all instincts become sacred in the seeker of knowledge; the soul of the elevated one becomes gay.
\nPhysician, help yourself: thus also you help your sick. Let that be his best help, that he sees with his own eyes the one who heals himself.
\nThere are a thousand paths that have never yet been walked; a thousand healths and hidden islands of life. Human being and human earth are still unexhausted and undiscovered.
\nWake and listen, you lonely ones! From the future come winds with secretive wingbeats; good tidings are issued to delicate ears.
\nYou lonely of today, you withdrawing ones, one day you shall be a people: from you who have chosen yourselves a chosen people shall grow\u2013and from them the overman.
\nIndeed, the earth shall yet become a site of recovery! And already a new fragrance lies about it, salubrious \u2013 and a new hope!<\/p>\n

3
\nWhen Zarathustra had said these words, he grew silent like one who has not spoken his lastword.Long heweighed the staff in his hand, doubtfully. Finally he spoke thus, and his voice had transformed.
\n\u201cAlone I go now,my disciples! You also should go now, and alone! Thus I want it.
\nIndeed, I counsel you to go away from me and guard yourselves against Zarathustra! And even better: be ashamed of him! Perhaps he deceived you.
\nThe person of knowledge must not only be able to love his enemies, but to hate his friends too.
\nOne repays a teacher badly if one always remains a pupil only. And why would you not want to pluck at my wreath?
\nYou revere me, but what if your reverence falls down some day? Beware that you are not killed by a statue!
\nYou say you believe in Zarathustra? But whatmatters Zarathustra! You are my believers, but what matter all believers!
\nYou had not yet sought yourselves, then you found me. All believers do this; that\u2019s why all faith amounts to so little.
\nNow I bid you lose me and find yourselves; and only when you have all denied me will I return to you.
\nIndeed, with different eyes, my brothers, will I then seek my lost ones; with a different love will I love you then.
\nAnd one day again you shall becomemy friends and children of a single hope; then I shall be with you a third time, to celebrate the great noon with you.
\nAnd that is the great noon, where human beings stand at the midpoint of their course between animal and overman and celebrate their way to evening as their highest hope: for it is the way to a new morning.
\nThen the one who goes under will bless himself, that he is one who crosses over; and the sun of his knowledge will stand at noon for him.
\n\u2018Dead are all gods: now we want the overman to live.\u2019 \u2013 Let this be our last will at the great noon!\u201d \u2013
\nThus spoke Zarathustra.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>

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Jess Zamora-Turner<\/p>\n

Linden flower, elderflower, lemon balm, flowering thyme and cornflower.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>

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<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/section>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"solstice reading texts with Alice CreischerHannah GregoryLingji HonWojciech KosmaThomas LoveMarkuesJess Zamora-Turner–> englishAlice Creischer Der Hut spricht, der Rechen spricht es fl\u00fcstert die Sense zum Ohr im Gras: 8760 Stunden hat das Jahr. 1200 Stunden verbraucht ein Arbeitsplatz. 40 Jahre arbeiten bei 80 Jahren Lebenserwartung sind 48.000 Stunden. Das Leben hat aber 700.800 Stunden in Deutschland...","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"inline_featured_image":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-1353","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/guts-berlin.de\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1353","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/guts-berlin.de\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/guts-berlin.de\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/guts-berlin.de\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/guts-berlin.de\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1353"}],"version-history":[{"count":66,"href":"https:\/\/guts-berlin.de\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1353\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1425,"href":"https:\/\/guts-berlin.de\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1353\/revisions\/1425"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/guts-berlin.de\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1353"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}