THE CYCLE OF THE SOUL
Part I
The Material Life

Jozef Rulof

World Wide Web version
© 2014 'De Eeuw van Christus'

Marianne lay close to my breast. She looked asleep and I held her as if she was a tiny baby. I wandered around like this for hours. If anyone had met me, he would have thought I was crazy. I held the human being I loved most in my arms. Yet it was only a small chunk of earth, but attached to that earth were various feelings that were dear to me. Was this love for humanity? Were these pure human thoughts? Or maybe they were treacherous, mean and bad, or only imagination? Did I cling to her only because I had nobody else who could lend me support? Was I worth entertaining this feeling? In any case I accepted it and it made me happy.

When I got upstairs I wrapped her in a silken scarf and stored her away. ‘Sleep sweetly, Marianne, know that I love you! I’ll never forget our childhood and will think of you always, perhaps it will give me support.’

Next I packed some necessities together and hobbled outside. My carriage was waiting and swiftly I drove off as if the devil was at my heels. I drove on all night and into the afternoon of the next day till the horses needed to be changed. Again I pushed on. I wanted to leave this country as rapidly as possible and until that time I could not rest easy. I was afraid that I still might lose my life and I wanted to live, for I was too young to die. I had not even come of age yet, however, I was always thinking things over; and young as I was had some bold experiences. As a child I already thought like an adult.

Where did this maturity come from? From my parents? Was it inherited? Why then was I so different from them? Did God create different kinds of people? Wasn’t one like the other? Did He know what He had created? But why then all those contradictions in characters? Why was the one in conflict with the other? Why did they accept their wealth and possessions, while to me it was a curse and a matter of contempt. Why and what was the purpose? Did it mean something? Did God sow discord among people? He, the All-knowing? I found that man had more of an animal than of a being endowed with intellectual gifts.

Nature around me was beautiful, it was without a doubt perfect. Only man was no good. I had to go to a strange country and was all alone in this cursed world. Large cities attracted me, there where life was. I wanted to see and experience life and enrich myself with it, what lay behind me was dead. Everything was dead, only Marianne still lived in me.

That night I took a rest and continued the next day.

By now I had been away from home for a week and kept going further and further on. All thoughts of home began to fade, they were replaced by new and different ideas. At last I arrived in the south, where I remained. I converted my papers into silver, of which I had to live for a few months.

Soon I placed myself under the guidance of a great master, who gave me my first training. I was a thankful student and because I understood what my teacher meant I made rapid progress. My heart sang in jubilation and everything went according to my wishes. My master was very pleased with me. I studied almost day and night, absorbed everything that had to do with art and made it my own. The most difficult lessons were child’s play to me. My soul drank it all in. I was an artist in heart and soul. I felt myself wonderfully happy and so many carefree years passed.

I stayed here for more than three years. From my parents I heard nothing. I lived in a wide world and could go where I wanted, for I was my own master. I had changed a lot. My character began to develop its many traits, but the most wonderful trait I felt I possessed was my great enthusiasm for my art. This feeling branched out above myself; I lost myself in it and it impelled me to great things. My teacher predicted a brilliant future for me. My art had a natural style which people did not understand. Where those art feelings came from remained a mystery to me. If I continued in this way I would have to change teachers. My master advised me to go to one of his friends, who had reached an awe-inspiring height and there I could finish my training.

A year later I followed his advice. He had been a father to me and I loved him with heart and soul; I wept when I left.

‘You must, my Lantos’, he said, ‘you must. You cannot learn more from me and you must bring that gift of yours to its ultimate height, for which you need other teachers.’

Reluctantly I left. I could now move around more freely, but I had only one purpose, one ambition, one goal and that was to reach the top. That gift lay within me; I was, as my master remarked, a born artist. Thank God, I thought, then I was not born to be a ruler. Until he said that I had not spent a thought on the past for one second.

I took up residence in a city where the arts were flourishing and where I also entered a religion out of necessity. It is not my intention to describe the life of those times, I shall do so only where it becomes essential. I follow the way of my innermost feelings and proceed telling you whom I met on my way and what I experienced.

Something in all those centuries has remained the same, at least changed very little; and that is the inner life of man, who cannot shake his animal-like origin. Man has not changed in anything; on the contrary, it seems as if he is going downhill, but that is actually not the case. These are only temporary situations, a period of falling down and getting up again. Sense and perceive one person, and so you sense a nation, you sense a continent. Whatever the individual experiences, the nation also experiences. When he falls, the nation falls, continents fall. This is laid down in the psychology of the cosmos; they are laws, it is the cycle of the soul. That soul pursues its way in order to reach the divine spheres. The earth is millions of years old, so is man and yet that intellectual being has barely outgrown the animal. One can still find pre-animal-like beings inside the human form roaming around on earth. Watch out for them. Stay out of their way, for they cannot be reached for hundreds of years.

With renewed energy I set to work. My skill was admired and I made many friends. My personality changed and my name had a special ring to it. I was hailed as a future master. The years went by. I learned much and was satisfied with my progress. I now completely understood the feelings for art I had in childhood. Only the enigma from whom I had received this gift remained. Many people asked me if I had inherited it from my ancestors. I could answer them, but kept my true descent quiet.

I thought a lot about it, because I could not imagine, as I said before, from whom these powers came in me. From God? From a higher power? It was not clear to me. I kept searching and asking for an answer and the problem grew in intensity. I was a born analytic, I wanted to know where I came from and what purpose all this served. All those problems about life I wished to know. I could not understand the harshness of people. As I grew older those feelings matured and I went deep down into life, in order to understand it better. I was frequently deep in thoughts and so I was called a dreamer. That flattered me very much and it made me feel proud that people saw me that way. I felt much older than my true age and therefore I attracted the older brothers-in-art, who invited me to come and visit them.

People began to notice me. I wanted to finish off my studies with a great work of art. For the subject I chose a mother and child modelled in full length. Herein I placed that feeling with which I wished my mother would have loved me. The statue vibrated life and became a great success. All my love, all the pure joy of the soul that I felt as a child I placed in it.

The work was awarded honours. The smile on the mother’s face defrosted the coldest hearts. The child with both small hands raised, looked up at the mother and begged for love. This great and sacred feeling lay in both beings. Two souls were joined; one feeling, one thinking, one love. In this way as a child I had felt mother-love, but it was not given to me, whereupon it sank away deep within myself, never to resurface for her who was my mother. Around and in my piece of work lay this great power. The struggle of my youth – now behind me – had matured my feelings for art and made it grow.

With rapid strides I was going forward to meet my happiness. My interest was only centred on the human body and its beauty. I conquered its depth and thereby made many friends, but also many enemies. The one begrudged the other his good fortune; murder was committed for fame and honour. A human life had no value, for a trifle a person was put to death. All this was repulsive to me and caused me grief, but this suffering did not last long.

I felt that I lived far too seriously and threw myself into the maelstrom of an effervescent life. The years that followed passed in a revel of fame and honour. It was getting time for me to stand on my own two feet and an unknown urge seemed to push me that way. I broke away and set up my own house, I engaged a servant recommended to me by one of my best friends. The man-servant performed all his duties well, but somehow I did not trust him. There was something about him that bothered me, I tried to find out what it was, but could not put my finger on it. It was impossible to fathom the man’s character. Once again I asked my very best friend, Roni, whether I could trust him completely.

‘What’s the matter, my dear Lantos’, he said, ‘am I not your friend?’

I was sorry already that I distrusted him, yet I could not shake the feeling, however I suppressed it forcefully and refused to think more about it. I told my servant that no other person was to be allowed in my atelier without my knowledge. I did not want anyone to know what I was working at. Every time I came out with something new in my art that surprised the world and crushed my art brothers. The great ones who stood above me I would reach too. Soon I would be a master. That was my aim and that’s where my art led me.

I was not spared envy and hate. At one of my meetings they let me feel it very clearly. My very best friend belonged to them, which grieved me much. He tried to hide it behind his very handsome face, but I still felt it. It proved impossible for me to scrutinize his character. He was a striking fellow, built like an adonis. I gave him many hours of my time, but I never got to know his true character. Sometimes he was most charming and my best friend, then suddenly I was faced with a different side of him, that I thought was very unpleasant. I tried to break with him, but that proved impossible. It was as if an invisible power kept us together. I had the strangest feeling that I had met him before somewhere, but I could not remember where. Still his figure did not leave me in peace; over and over I thought of him, but for me he remained inscrutable. My feelings were similar to those I felt as a child and had incited me to leave my family. That power had won out and I had gone away and become what I wanted.

Were these invisible powers? Was I under some influence that made me act without wanting or knowing it? I now was more aware and sensed those forces of my youth quite sharply, it was as if I had just awakened. To concentrate better on the problem I went into seclusion, and as I did in my childhood I took long walks in nature. Nature made many things clear to me. I felt for instance that both forces were one, one will, one feeling governed it all. Was it God? An almighty Power, that created heaven and earth, man and animal? And that governed and guided everything? Was this guidance or was it self-suggestion on my part? What was it?

For my friend I felt true friendship, but yet I had to confess to myself in all honesty that I hated him. Why exactly, why did I hate him? Had he done me wrong?

He was jealous and didn’t grant me the place, the height I had achieved. That was human and quite usual and it should not disturb me. Still it worried me, but no matter how much I thought and analyzed his character traits, I could not figure him out.

My feelings were not the same as his and yet we were friends, good friends even. His actions came spontaneously, but were not very sensitive and detrimental to his art. His spontaneity and ambition strangled the deeper vibrations of the soul, the force to feel his subjects through. He was too quick in everything, too thoughtless. He did not feel the stillness of life; in nothing he was aware of himself. He acted on the spur of the moment and completely gave himself without thinking. On the ocean of his life it was continuously blowing up a storm, day and night. He was tossed left and right and satiated himself with experiences by living life as it came to him.

For a time I let myself be led by him and we wandered together through an effervescent life. But gradually I began to look out for a safe haven. Such a life was too tiring for me, I yearned for some rest, for silence to come to myself. I thought and recalled everything with whom and what I came in contact. A dreamer and a thinker, as people called me, I was. However, Roni would never reach my level if he did not acquire these faculties, only then his art would come alive. I had and felt only one goal, he had many. In the art of painting as it was practised in those days he had reached a great height, but in sculpture he could not equal me.

I now possessed fame and honour, all earthly wealth lay at my feet. Yet sometimes I was thrown in a melancholy mood and I was dissatisfied. However, when I was in that mood I saw my art grow and come to life. During that time I saw people and animals in a different light and it was easier for me to reach them.

I was in love, but never came to know true love. The love that was offered me gave me nothing. This kind was too easy to get, this love was too transparent. When you opened your heart, it was immediately seized. That yearning desire of the soul seduced a person again and again. But I learned to arm myself against it. I did not want to become a plaything of these feelings and this spurred me to reflection. I came to know and understand their nature. Still I kept searching for the true love, but did not find it.

Was there any such love on earth? Did not the other beings have that kind of love within them? Did they not have that power which makes life on earth happy? Did they not know what love meant and did they not carry within themselves the realization that one must respect the feelings of others? Did they understand nothing of the true and real joy as the Almighty intended? And yet, as an artist, I loved such a being. Her eyes, which laughed, begged and caressed, were dear to me. Her whole body was to me a temple of beauty, splendour and felicity. I could offer my life for this being, but then she would have to love me verily and truly.

In my early youth I already had these feelings, but now they were developed and conscious. This awe-inspiring and mighty happiness I wanted to possess. How my soul longed for understanding, how it hankered after this one being, sweet and beautiful, who would raise me to my ultimate level and make my art more spiritual.

Those I had met up to now, had not a smattering of these lofty feelings. They had nothing more than animal-like desires, coarsematerial egoism and passions that I loathed. The rhythmic sound which had to bring the forces of the soul to the surface just was not in them. They lived loosely; wandered from the one to the other.

Had God, the Creator of all this power, made a mistake? Did He know His own creation? Why did he create different kinds and so many incomprehensible feelings? Why did He give a human being such misconceived powers? Why not join the female with the male of a like denomination so that they would understand each other, feel one in love and live according to His will? Had this not been God’s intention? The holy Scriptures and the clergy too told about that.

No, I just could not sort it out, I could not grasp this mysterious problem, but it continued to worry me and I asked myself why and wherefore? Where would I be able to find this enviable creature, gifted with radiant beauty and the power to create happiness and turn life into a paradise? Where was she? My soul pined for that being; I was anxious for the chance to admire her. And for a smile, a hand-kiss I would give my life. I knew it, those powers had come to consciousness in me. In these melancholy and yearning moods I pined for a being that would feel as I did, for an ear that could listen and for a face that could express all those feelings. I searched and searched, sounding out hundreds of these beings, but I did not find what I wanted. They were not on earth, God must have made a mistake. Man was not perfect; I did not see or feel love such as He possessed and which we ourselves should have.

During my childhood years I had loved Him and had owned my own God. He had been very close to me then, but now He was far away and unreachable. I would like to ask Him questions, thousands of questions, which He, the Almighty, could answer. In my childhood years my God had fallen apart, here I was now, picking away until there was nothing left of His creation. These feelings too sprouted from the same eternal source. At that time I was not aware yet and wanted to own God, now that I had reached this age and got to know life and people, I wanted to unveil that power. My body had grown, my mind developed and still I had not changed at all. What I felt as child I still felt and vice versa. I only was somewhat more aware, but in the depth of my soul I had fallen asleep, because I did not understand all this. On one point I was awake however, and very conscious; that was in love. I wanted to have and hold that love and warm myself in it, only then I would be able to reach the pinnacle of my art feelings. In her I saw the highest inspiration, a being that would propel me upwards towards boundless possibilities.

A remarkable thought from the past, of something sweet that I had once possessed, occurred to me. My Marianne! In all these years I had not thought of her for even one second. Was she still alive? Would she possess all these properties? As if in an enclosure that thought had lain hidden within me.

Marianne was the only thing from the past that I loved. I would have swept her out of my thoughts too, had our childhood not been so delightful. She had been dear to me, her I loved, she had been my life and my sun and would remain that until I died. Oh, if I could see her in this life, she would be mistress of my heart and my deepest feelings. She understood me and knew my feelings; we were no strangers to each other but sister and brother in the true meaning of the word. That was clear to me, I could feel it, in nothing had my feelings for her changed. Strange that I had not thought of her before. But my life had been filled with my work.

‘Marianne, where are you?’ When I would reach the highest point in my career, I would try and find her. I wanted to see her once more before I died. Without knowing it she had comforted and spoiled me. I firmly resolved to find her, if she was still alive. I hurried back home. This walk had brought back the memories of my youth again; they would never have surfaced in the hectic rush of daily life. I was soon home and brought out the statue. I began to take off the wrappings, curious to know if it was still alive. With utmost care I took off the last cloth and yes, it was undamaged, in fact it had become more solid and more radiant. I thought I now saw a young maiden in it.

‘Marianne, are you alive? Tell me where are you? Come to me, let us be friends or lovers. Have you still remained free? Then come, my sweet girl, and sing for me; your voice will inspire me. Give me that tender but pure love, that is the highest of all.’

The silk kerchief in which the small figurine had slept had faded, but the clay had remained intact. What power held it together? I dug my nails in it, but the material had become as solid as marble. It was truly remarkable. I sat down and talked to it for some time. ‘Are you mine, my dear child? Come to me, Marianne, not one hair on your head will be hurt. Joy-of-my-childhood, are you content in this life? Do laugh a little, be cheerful, let me hear your voice and come.’

Did the statue move? I thought so, but rejected the idea immediately; I did not want to become sentimental. I put the statue on a stand and looked at it for a long time. A plan was forming in my mind.

I was afraid that the statue might still fall apart and then I would have lost everything from that period in life. I decided to make a life-size statue of Marianne, as I thought she would be today and as I loved her.

But how keen had my observation been when I modelled her in my childhood, and how precisely calculated. From whom had I inherited that gift, from where came that feeling for art? I was born with it! However, in this life one had to acquire everything, master it in order to once understand and possess it. Did this enigma remain insoluble? This figurine expressed a sensitivity for which today I would have to exert myself if I wanted to equal it. From where came this keen gauging of art? I would try to discover that, but first I had to fashion this art piece that would bring me fame and even more honour.

I spent many hours deep in thought. I let myself go and thought myself into her personality; I sensed her as never before. How lovely and sweet she must be now, if my perception of her had been correct. But at the same time I discovered frivolous traits that saddened me. However, a frankness shone forth from her face as I had not seen before. Also love showed through strongest of all. Oh, if I ever could call her my own, how I would surround her with my love.

All kinds of thoughts came into my mind and faded away again. In front of me stood a large piece of marble and presently I would commence work; everything lay ready. I felt in the right mood to achieve something beautiful. My heart beat stronger than usual, but in my soul lay a devout calm that surprised me, because I really was not a devout man. Praying I never did, I would not know how. I had once learned a few prayers, but had forgotten them. Neither did I feel the urge to pray, since I constantly was in rebellion against God.

I collected my tools and set to work. In rapid tempo, all the time keeping Marianne’s being in mind, I worked the snow-white marble. With every tap of my hammer my friendship and love for her grew. I don’t know how long I had been working, when a thunderous clap shook me awake from the dream-like state I had worked in, for I was totally absorbed in my work.

What had happened? One of my old statues had toppled of its stand and small and large pieces lay scattered around me. Was this an omen or an accident? I swept the pieces together, so that I could continue my work.

This interruption was unfortunate, for I had been so completely wrapped up in my work. It was frightening, a cold shiver went through me. My inspiration had gone and I had to wait a long time before I could recapture that enviable mood.

My happiness was very intense, for I was connected with the loveliest time of my life. After a few hours of strenuous work I became very tired and went to get some sleep.

I awoke in the morning and went to work again, that I kept up till late in the afternoon. Why this hurry? The driving force that had taken hold of me was urging me on to complete this statue as soon as possible. I was being pushed to greater speed. This had never happened to me before and I found myself in a very strange mood. It was an unknown force that inspired me, stronger than ever before. Presently I had something to eat and after that I took a walk. Nature would furnish me with new powers and strengthen my spirit. After my walk I met Roni.

‘My dear Lantos’, he began, ‘where have you been all this time? I haven’t seen you for so long. Are you working at something new?’

His face radiated and he was cheerful and frank, so I thought to feel.

‘For some months now I have something real sweet’, he began to tell me; this was always the only thing that interested him.

I did not answer and let him continue.

‘Very sweet, Lantos, and she sings as lovely as a nightingale.’

His eyes lit up, they shone and sparkled. Where had I met a person just like him before, I knew him.

He continued: ‘She is in love with me, but well...!’

I understood what he meant with that. Eventually he would dispose of her as one does with an old rag; by then her honour, if she still possessed that, would be besmirched. His usual way of loving someone. You are a scoundrel, I thought, and felt hate rising up in me, which I suppressed however.

I answered: ‘Why must you always tell me the secrets of your heart?’

‘Aren’t you my friend, my very best friend, Lantos?’

That was true, but I shuddered from his life-style. I had once lived a life like that, but I was mostly cured of it.

‘Are you working at something?’ he asked with interest.

‘Yes, I am’, I replied, ‘and I am not available for a couple of months.’

‘Will you let me admire your new work?’

‘No’, I said severely without wanting to, ‘not yet.’

‘Oh my’, he said, ‘you speak sharply.’

I felt his envy, his handsome face clouded over and a cruel sneer curled his lips. I thought that for an instant I had got a glimpse behind his mask, but he recovered himself and was all geniality again. I said goodbye after that and left.

This meeting with him stayed for a long time with me, but I could not figure him out. Where did he really come from? The one or other soul hankering after some love would get caught in his spider-web and be lost. Anyone who ventured in there would have to suffer, her awaited grief and sorrow. A demonical force lay hidden in him; he stood above all the beings who kissed his feet. This adonis played with the souls of women and broke hearts. A devil’s game! He crushed them, he sucked them dry, because they themselves seemed to want it. It was nothing but lust.

Among those were also innocents and for them I felt sorry. Once before I had talked to him about sparing the innocents, but he would not listen to reason. He only did what he wanted. He was a seducer of the worst kind and proud of it.

These last months I began to have a growing feeling of aversion towards him and therefore I must try to free myself from his influence. This proved impossible to do and I began to think of invisible powers, but I rejected that thought for I was too rational. I found it ridiculous to suppose even such a thing. His world had been my world also, but yet I could not have lived his kind of life. I must have a different mentality, for a behaviour like this I seemed to be too sensitive. He was, as it were, my opposite image, yet we both loved life. I was searching for one only, he did not; he took anyone, poor or rich, it was all the same. He had only one desire and that was to possess the person completely and dominate, but only in the physical sense.

My thoughts called me back to my work and I hurried home. I fell immediately into the right mood and began to work. I felt tranquillized; it was a lovely experience. Only then an artist is happy and has the true feel of what he creates.

How very close became my knowledge of Marianne! She lived in me and I in her; we were one. I would want to die for her, I felt that clearly. If I only had her with me, then I could make her happy. I thought myself deep into her being; modelled all these traits and hew them in marble. The statue grew. The work succeeded very rapidly and I admired myself. My ability now seemed limitless to me and how I would reach the top.

A few weeks went by in a flash and I had made wonderful progress. Around her sweet lips lay a tender smile, her whole being radiated love. Thus she would be this very moment if she was still alive. I portrayed her the way I sensed her. Her golden blond hair curled down upon her shoulders in a satiny glow, made her come alive. To me the weeks were days, no, hours and I felt myself the happiest human being in this world. Was it my love for her that raised me to this height? It could be nothing else, for this product I created was of the highest order. I sat down a little distance away to look at her. A stillness hung around and in the figure, that gave me peace.

She stood there like a little queen. The outside of her was in harmony with her inner being, both were an excellent likeness and I felt satisfied.

‘Where are you, Marianne? Do tell me where you live this moment.’ Again I felt her smile.

Next I started with the polishing. A ray of sunshine slanted across the statue and her being shone like the sun. It could not be else, she possessed what I had sought in her. Soon I was ready. I kissed her on both cheeks, thanked her silently for this beautiful inspiration and promptly burst into tears. No matter how hard I resisted, the tears kept on rolling down my cheeks. I thought myself a fool, but something had crept up in me that could not be denied. I was sad, extremely sad, but why was I? All this time I had been the happiest man on earth. There were no troubles to bother me, everything went along nicely all by itself, I was alive, felt her love, her personality and that gave me great joy. Why then did I cry? Why? I asked myself this over and over again, but got no answer. I flew into a passion, for I appeared thankless and that was not my intention at all. My love was true, I was sure of that. For a long time I sat and reflected upon it, then suddenly I knew. It was my hankering for that love. Just now it had flowed deep down into my soul and made me cry.

Oh, how beautiful could this life on earth be, but it became a torment when one cherished the pure, true love.

‘Ah’, I kept calling out, ‘where are you Marianne, where do you live?’

If I had dared to pray I would have begged God to show me the place where she lived, but I did not believe in miracles.

The statue was finished, many would envy me. With it I would wound and draw blood from my friend Roni. What he reached in love, I reached in art. This was much more precious to me than his accursed life.

Accursed? Had I not been accursed in my youth? Did a curse not rest on my life? My parents had cursed me and I them. I could still hear their words clearly, they still lashed my soul. I should not think about that any more, it was past.

Now I stood before my Marianne, my purest inspiration. I would show this work of my art to everyone, but first I needed some rest, for the work had taken much out of me. It had drained my lifeforces completely, but I suffered it gladly, it was worth it. For her I would do anything. I really felt tired, but a little entertainment would do me good, so I set out for the place where artists always gathered.

Halfway there I suddenly stopped and gasped. In front of me stood Roni, who had noticed my behaviour. Damn! I thought, I always seem to meet him. Would this mean something?

‘Did I frighten you, Lantos?’ he began the conversation. ‘You look awfully pale. Worked too hard? Where have you been of late? Did you work all that time?’

I looked at him, his face was like a grinning mask. For a few seconds we seized each other up. He was aware of my feelings and I of his. At that moment we both knew that we were enemies and I said to shock him: ‘My new work is completed.’

Now it was my turn to ask: ‘Are you not well? You suddenly look awfully pale, is something the matter? Did your luck in love fail you?’

I kept looking at him and knew what he felt. He begrudged me my art. How I hated him. Villain, I thought.

He remained very kind however, and was courteous as always.

‘Where are you going, Lantos?’

‘I am looking for a bit of amusement’, I admitted honestly, ‘I am a little tired.’

I was coming to myself again and because he was so courteous my hate diminished. He was a remarkable person. Together we walked along.

‘What do you think of your work?’ he enquired with interest.

I said: ‘Never before have I made anything so wonderful.’

‘So, you are making me curious. May I see it?’

‘No, not yet’, I answered coolly while I glanced at him, but the set expression on his face hid his inner feelings.

‘What is the significance of this work?’ he asked anew.

I startled, but controlled myself. I would not let him share my most sacred feelings.

I side-tracked his question by saying: ‘In a while, later.’

‘I too have made progress, Lantos.’

‘Progress?’

‘Yes, with my new love.’

‘Well, well’, I said but thought of my own things. Progress? How much progress? In what? Progress in love? Then it was not his intention to destroy?

‘The game has been played’, he said, ‘I am the winner.’

‘Winner, you say?’

‘She, whom I told you about if you remember, lies at my feet. Exquisite, Lantos, a beauty, but a dumb being. Very dumb, she seems a one time peasant.’

‘Ridiculous.’

‘But she sings delightful and is a stunning figure, but I see her past.’

‘Past?’ I asked.

‘Well, yes, I sounded her out a little. She’ll be dreaming about her happiness. She expects me, come with me, aren’t you looking for diversion?’

‘No’, I said, ‘you go ahead.’

We parted, but I was very absent-minded. Why was I so startled that my heart skipped a beat when I was suddenly confronted with him? Why? Again it was clear to me that I had met him before in my life. From where did I know that villain? Or was I imagining things, he had been very polite? Perhaps I was somewhat overworked. What mattered his love affairs to me.

But was I different? If I were to continue in this way I would not have a friend left. I was capricious, discontented and ill-mannered and would have to treat him differently. Who did I think I was? I was sorry already that I had treated him so surly. People already called me eccentric, and that I did not want to become. I was like everybody else. Or was I? I tried to understand myself better; it was high time, but after a while I lost myself in myself and that made me laugh quite heartily. I was now thirty-eight years old and had reached a great height. I could be satisfied. Presently I would celebrate new triumphs with my latest creation, my Marianne.

My Marianne? Strange that I only thought of that just now. I always spoke of my child, my Marianne. Would she love me as I loved her? I would have to wait and see. In any case we were friends and that made me feel happy already.

Now I would rest first, for even though I went out to visit my friends, without knowing it I had returned home. That was very strange, but it must have happened because I was so absent-minded. This sculpture had tired and totally exhausted me. This statue was a great piece of art, it could not be otherwise. Working on it had been emotional and even now, when I but glanced at it, those forces still affected me.

Once more I urged my servant not to let anyone, no matter who, in my inner sanctum. I had thrown a cloth over my Marianne and observed how the folds in the cloth were arranged. I locked the overall picture in my mind, for I still did not fully trust my servant. I found myself an awful master, but could not change my feelings. I felt rushed and uneasy and could not concentrate on one thing only. I certainly needed rest.

Still I took another walk, but my thoughts returned to Roni. His affections bothered me, I thought him a braggart. Sooner or later happiness would come for me too. I would wait for it, because to go out and search for it would be insane. How long had I not searched for it already, but had found no one who possessed the true, pure love. Did Roni throw himself into this life to find inspiration? Many plied themselves with drink before they were able to accomplish something. Yet their figures were alive and much admired by people. A fine world it was! Of the many inspirations I had received, this last one had been the most wonderful one. What exactly was inspiration? Was it a conscious merging with something higher? I felt that I was unable to think. My head was burning, I felt feverish and had been under a severe strain. The stillness of nature would do me good. Was I ill or getting ill?

I sat down in a lovely spot surrounded by flowers and cypresses. It was like a paradise here, only man was a disturbance. I felt that I too was a disturbance. Birds were singing their songs, their carolling made me feel better. Everywhere I saw new life. All this was God’s creation; including all of us human beings.

Why do we really live on this earth? Why were we here? How I would love to find out about that and come to know what makes a person a person. How deep was man? Was there anyone who really knew him? Where did he come from? Did life go on? A life after this life? Or did life come to an end with death. If so, what was the use of being here? People tore each other to pieces. I saw only grief. Was there eternal life? If there was, I would have much to make good. The Bible said so, the clergy preached it, but nobody knew for certain. Yet it continued to trouble me. I walked around with this kind of thought all the time. Why? I asked myself. Was I overly conscious? Did I live this life too intensely? Was I not satisfied? I was looking for something. Was it domestic happiness I longed for, a wife and children and a happy life? Was this not meant for me? Wasn’t God a Father of Love? Why then didn’t He give His children happiness?

It was quite remarkable that even now I did not feel content, even though I now possessed fame and everything else for which I had yearned in my childhood. Something within me took this much desired happiness away from me. It was as if I looked down into a deep hole that would never let me solve the secret. Was this the same power that made me belligerent in my childhood? Had it not been impossible for them to tame me; ‘something’ drove me away from home. Now that I was searching I felt clearly that these were the very same feelings. Was then this power my fate? Was I possessed by the devil, or were these forces of nature laws which I could not escape? If I were to accept this concept, then I felt that it wasn’t I who had lived, but a force that controlled and commanded me into action.

Could that be? Were there forces that could make me unmanageable? What part of man was of himself? Did he have an own will? Or did he not have the power to ‘will’ anything? Did he live in an unaware state? Conscious in nothing at all? How far did human consciousness extend itself? Were we here on earth to acquire consciousness? Did these things happen to everybody? I never heard Roni or many others ask such questions, they just lived and were happy. Would that ever happen to me? Or was it because I was a dreamer and different from them? Were there people living on earth who had this kind of consciousness? If not, how far away are we from having it? Where is the beginning and where the end?

I could go on asking thousands of questions indefinitely, but not one was being answered. An impenetrable fog that covered everything also hid my own life. I was faced with a mystery. I thought I was a problem, because I could not understand myself. Would I ever know myself? There was no awareness in me; I was non-conscious in all and everything. As always that mysterious force that guided my life was present. I would go crazy if I continued like this much longer. Hold it, Lantos, hold it, you ask too much! Live your life like Roni and others, and you will be happy!

I looked up. Up there, behind that tightly-stretched, blue-purple cloth of the expanse the secret lay. There God lived and there was His heaven. One day we would arrive there to be judged; I would be severely punished, would burn and be doomed, for I had not lived like a saint; on the contrary, I had cheerfully lived hand to mouth. Apparently that was not as it should be. One must pray, pray very often and that I never did. Neither had I given to the poor, I only lived for myself. All of these were sins for which I would have to atone when I came to live on the other side, that is if that was the truth, for that I had to wait and see. Nobody knew. Here I was already considered a heathen, an unbeliever and that was terrible. If I had to live on, my body would have to endure that eternal fire; for those few sins I had committed. That was a terrible punishment.

He was called a God of Love, but could it be called love dooming one’s own children? I shivered of fear for that God, whom the clergy knew and of whom the Bible spoke. Was I becoming a believer? At least I was starting to think about religion. I did not ‘dream’ anymore, I was now analyzing. Something changed in me every day, but I did not arrive at the certainty of knowing. Was it necessary to go on thinking like this in order to gain consciousness? I repeatedly asked myself this. Behind this all, there it lay, there it lived, there was God. Such vastness! Oh, that immense space: it made me feel very small. He, the Creator of all life, of heaven and earth had wrapped Himself in a haze and remained invisible for everybody. The people would dearly love to get to know Him, me too. Everything up there looked so without limits, I could see no end. Behind that the heart of God was beating for all His children. I did not hear it beating however, although I tried very hard. Was my hearing defective to His mighty sound? Or was I tuned in on the wrong frequency? Would I have to attune myself in the same way I did with my art?

Many people were asking as I did: ‘Why and wherefore is this life? Why all the injustice and the horrors on this earth?’ People prayed to Him, but did not receive an answer. People cried and shouted for help and no one heard. They lived in poverty, misery and grief; suffered from hunger and cold and begged for relief, but nothing happened. They who went to church every day and prayed incessantly, found too that their prayers were not answered and they also asked ‘why’ and ‘wherefore’. No end came to their suffering. No God of Love stepped in and called a halt to their oppressors. He let them continue their destruction of human lives. Still He was a God of Love. It is inconceivable to regard Him as a God of Love and justice. Not a single question was ever answered with a definite yes or no. Everything remained veiled in that invisible haze and nobody became any the wiser. Was this the non-conscious life? Was God a non-conscious something? Did I look at this from the wrong angle? Was I in revolt? Did not everybody feel as I did? Were they not looking for the real and true life? Or was I an exception? Would man have to find a way out of this chaos?

‘You must believe’, we were told, ‘then you’ll find the truth.’ I looked up and peered for a long time at the sky, but I did not find God. The blue sky remained taut, mysterious and untouchable. The depth of space, visible to no man, faced me with a sneering grin and remained blue. Only in the night the life of the stars could be observed, but our learned men did not know much about them either. Lay the secret of the whole creation therein? I should have become a scholar, for the sciences strongly attracted me. For thousands of years mankind had been searching and asking ‘why’ and ‘wherefore’. How much longer would we have to ask? When would the moment come that God would speak and say: ‘See, I am alive. Feel that I love all of you, and that I lead and guide that, what you cannot grasp nor understand’. That would not happen in my time, my life was too short for that. I could be dead tomorrow and then all these questions and the begging for truth would be over. Man possessed colossal powers and yet he was a being of the moment. Those we met yesterday were not here today, for death had called them. They were either in heaven or would eternally burn in hell.

Death, yes, what really was death? A word with a terrifying ring to it. I neither understood death nor all my other problems. Three problems I had: Death, God and my own life. To me God was the greatest enigma. He created something very mighty and let it die. Whenever I had made something beautiful I admired it for hours on end and could never get enough of it. What, however, was my creation in comparison with His. Nothing. How astonishing His creation is of man, animal and all the other life forms.Though the most wonderful of His creation undoubtedly is man. But he will die and fade away into nothing but some dust. Why then had He created man? A person was perfect in every way; I can see, I can hear and feel and I can go wherever I want to. But yet he has to die sometime. Worse, afterwards he would burn. Besides he would have to atone for all the small sins that were committed. I found the verdict unreasonably severe and suffered under it. Could this life have a purpose? To me all this was torture, an impenetrable something. How could I ever accept God’s word, if I felt like this inside? To believe and yet not understand, to accept everything blindly, that was not possible for me.

Take Roni for instance, he was like an adonis with a beautifully shaped body, but still one day he would die. I was sorry for him, but yet I begrudged him his life. I saw in his death justice. Just a few years more and his beauty would also be gone. He envied me my art and my success. How could God give a character like that in a person? A perfect body and yet a beast, for he unquestionably was a beast. Every woman who met him would be lost irrevocably. He sucked her dry, and then threw her away. Was this God’s will? Why did He grant that animal the power to break and destroy? If he would not die, I might find the courage to kill him myself. Then there would be no more grief and suffering, and no more innocent hearts would be broken. But that he would die too, that was certain.

See, just for that I could be thankful to God already. Only in this one aspect God was perfect and just. Nobody, no man or beast could remain living and keep its life. Everything had to die and turn to dust. Not only had God bestowed beauty upon Roni, but He had also given him wondrous gifts, which he wasted. His art came to nothing. He lived himself out and brought nothing but misery. That was my friend Roni, and yet he was a blessed human being.

Isn’t God incomprehensible? Who can understand Him? Wasn’t this in conflict with everything else? A human like Roni was left to do as he pleased and he could make and break what he wanted. What a horrible injustice! Others with his feelings for art would create wonderful things. Many hankered after them, but received nothing of these talented traits. This puzzled me too. In my youth such thoughts had troubled me already and I asked myself: Why on earth one found so much happiness, whereas the other must suffer misery and starvation? Still more questions came to me, but it was hopeless to ask any more.

I now felt more at ease and less agitated. Meditating in the open air had brought me peace. Philosophizing had done me good and put me in a better mood.

It was already late in the afternoon before I started for home. I wanted to begin with a new statue and would presently exhibit Marianne’s. What should I portray this time? Something that would lead me to the highest inspiration. From deep inside me thoughts welled up that made me shiver. They seemed unthinkable. How would I portray Him? I did not know Him, did not feel Him and understood nothing of Him. And I had to have the feel of Him and sense Him through and through, if I wanted it to turn out well.

But within me also lay the thought of death, that terror which cuts off a person’s life, and that too I wanted to portray. Death, that thought came to me, would become a marvellous piece, a product of the highest order of my creativity.

However, another plan began to form in my mind that seemed even more attractive to me. I would carve a dying adonis. Roni would be my model, in him lay both life and death. How would I be able to connect these two? I pondered a long time about it to get the feel of the overall picture. Such fine thoughts I had; I thought I was a genius in thinking. Death and Roni with God as Creator of this group.

How well thought-out was this whole composition. If I would succeed with the caring of it, people would kneel before it in reverence. I felt the meaning of this statue already. It meant God, life and death to me. I could not make anything more beautiful, deeper or more perfect. I went back to where I started from, to think some more.

Nature had to come to my aid, for without her I could not do it. I had to sense, feel it through and through until it was right inside of me, for only then I could live it. Once I got that far, I would be ready and could start with the sculpting. Everyone would recognize him in this setting, him, my friend whom I hated. I would put all my hate in it. His way of living I would mock, and show him that he was destined to die. I was glad that those thoughts had risen in my mind; it gave me a good feeling. Would ever any artist have thought of this? Where did these thoughts come from? Perhaps they were not mine? They were frightfully deep, almost impossible for a person to grasp. Yet it must be possible to make it. It was still a nonconscious idea, but it would surely attain consciousness. This also became clear to me, for now I began to sense something of the conscious and unconscious mind. When I thought in depth about this sculpture, I had an awareness that I could create such a work. Was or wasn’t this the proper understanding, the true consciousness? Now I was starting all over again. But I must stay with one idea and not think of other things, only let this great work grow in my mind where it can be brought to consciousness.

I felt happy for a new power in me had come to awakening. Did all my fellow art-brothers experience the products of their creations as I did? I would ask some of those who were still sympathetic towards me about it. Perhaps they could provide me with new impressions. I would not disclose my plan to them, however, that would remain my secret.

If I hurried over now, they might still be there, for I could not find peace anyway, but needed immediate action. At the same time I would try to probe the innermost workings of my friend Roni, because it was necessary for me to know him well, inside and out. He and I could go for long walks and I would invite him into my studio, for that would make our friendship seem closer. I would have to see him more often, or my creation could never be perfect; and this model would put the crown on my work.

My idea was marvellous, unbelievably beautiful and profound. I wanted to be able to look at Roni and observe him for a very long time. If he became aware of it I would tell him that I had started a new piece of work that would show a resemblance to him. He might think me odd, but people called me eccentric and a dreamer already. It would suit me fine. I also hoped to meet any others, so that I could try and read their feelings, if it were at all possible. It was only now that I became interested in my friends and their inner feelings.

When I entered I saw that he was there. Would he be sober?

He came over to me, shook my hand heartily and said: ‘Lantos, my dear friend, at last we meet again. The days seemed too long.’

That surprised me, for I had met him only this morning. This was always his way, drinking and making fun; lately his work came to nothing. Such a contradiction. His wondrous body and his disgusting character. I looked at him searchingly and tried to read his feelings.

‘I am going to portray her, Lantos, I shall make something wonderful of my love’, he said.

With great effort I kept myself from bursting out laughing. If he was going to make something beautiful, then he must be in love and his power broken.

Together we sat down in one of the niches. Roni was very loud, and I had to admonish him to quiet down a little.

‘As you wish, Lantos, I shall control myself.’

He never forgot to be courteous, even when the wine had clouded his feelings and turned his head.

‘A delightful afternoon, Lantos, a pity that you did not go with us.’

He seemed to remember our earlier meeting and said: ‘May we both come and visit you? Your eyes will pop out when you see the striking couple.’

It could not have come at a better time for me, and I readily agreed.

‘Come tomorrow’, I said. ‘If you wish, bring her with you. I would like to meet her.’

He took both my hands and squeezed them warmly.

‘I thought that you might agree. You are my friend, Lantos, and you will always remain that, won’t you?’

I did not answer and he continued: ‘What time shall we come?’

‘In the afternoon, around one o’clock’, I said; it really left me cold.

‘I must tell you something, Lantos.’

‘I’m listening’, I said, curious now to know what was on his mind. Of course it would again be about his life and his latest conquest.

‘I have gone too far, Lantos, and something that is very unpleasant to me will have to be done.’

I understood immediately what he was driving at. Scoundrel, I thought, that too.

‘Are you thinking of marrying her?’

He burst out in a laughter that sounded devilish in my ears. ‘Are you out of your mind, Lantos. My freedom, friend, is too precious to me. What do you advise me to do?’

‘That I do not know, I can’t answer that.’

‘She is worth it, Lantos, she is very beautiful.’

‘Then why don’t you marry her?’

‘As I already said my freedom is too dear to me. But do tell me what I can do? I cannot escape, wherever I go she always finds me and asks me what she should do. She is stronger than I and does not let herself be pushed aside, Lantos. I have misjudged her this time, for a being like that I have never met before. Believe me when I say that I would gladly shake her off and be rid of her, but I am unable to. I know her better than I know myself. Come now, give me advice; what can I do?’

‘You want to make a statue of her?’

‘Something like that, but I do not know whether I can succeed. I have to do something, but what? It is only the means, to give me time to think it over. But my freedom, my oh, so precious freedom, Lantos!’

False beast, I thought, how mean you are. All my good intentions were smothered by his fiendish thoughts.

Suddenly he said: ‘I forgot, I have to leave. Oh, that I did not think of that before. I must go now, Lantos. Until tomorrow, isn’t it?’

He offered me his hand and left.

A strange fellow. A little while ago drunk, but now suddenly sober. How could that be? Why the sudden change? Was he putting me on? Playing a game? Was I being betrayed? Did he play with me? But no, I was stretching my imagination and should not be so suspicious, but believe and trust him a little more.

The hours passed and I still sat in the same place to think it over. Finally I got up and left. My brother-artists I had not studied in depth, nor asked them anything; those that were there had to awake first. They did not have the right feelings, they were empty and non-conscious. But then, was I conscious? Always in everything that conscious and unconscious life.

Everything that he had told me had deeply moved me. The poor human child struck by such suffering. First he called her a peasant, next she was a beauty queen and now this! If her personality was different from his, I would like to meet and get to know that being. It was impossible for me to see through Roni’s mask, but maybe she could? Women differed from men in that they saw sharper and felt deeper when everything was at stake.

I was very curious, not only to see her, but also to get to know her. Perhaps it would help me with my new work. Maybe she was a wonder, gifted with powers other than those I knew and possessed. Was she his better in everything? That seemed almost impossible. She would have to be a she-devil. In him too I saw a devil in human form. A well-matched pair then! To meet with a devil and a shedevil was amusing, but it was also frightening to get to know such a couple. I longed for the next day already. I was sorry that I had not invited them for tonight or this evening, however that could not be changed any more. And so, I had to be patient and wait until tomorrow.