THE CYCLE OF THE SOUL
Part I
The Material Life

Jozef Rulof

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

Now I had the time to meditate. My cell was a few meters square. Only faint light fell through a small window and that was the only source of illumination. When the sun went down darkness set in for me too. No other light was available to me.

At the beginning of my arrival here I looked for ways to escape, but had to put that out of my head soon, it was impossible. Whether I lived above or below ground level I did not know. It ought to be above ground, otherwise I would have no light, but upon entering I had counted the steps we descended and there were thirty-two. The walls of my cell were several meters thick and what could I do with that? Nothing at all. And so I abandoned the idea and gave myself over to fate. I now lay on my back for hours staring upwards. The first days passed in this way.

I had time for everything, no need to hurry at all. My whole life on earth passed by. I thought about my childhood and how carefree it had been and how much my parents had loved me. But, they were mean and treacherous: how well had I come to know them! But the most treasured hours had been those I had spent with Marianne; they had been the most wonderful and sacred moments of my life. Afterwards in different surroundings with the various teachers who had not taught me anything. And still I had become a great artist. There lived in me a force that served for something and was useful. Now I never asked any more how I got that feeling for art. I would not get an answer to that anyway. If I had remained at home this would not have happened. But I had to. A to me unknown force prompted me to leave that red-hot piece of ground and I went, with this as end result. Revenge I felt in the whole of my life, revenge, nothing but revenge.

Was there a God of revenge? Would my parents know about this end? I still had cherished feelings of hope that they would free me. But no. Would they be able to sleep peacefully knowing all this? Would Marianne tell them? That would not happen either, for hadn’t I forbidden her to do so? Was Marianne still alive? Had she suffered a total breakdown because of all those touching events? When my parents would hear of that it would poison their happiness and darken their light still more. Their God now was a God of revenge, of that I was sure. However, I should not think of those things any more.

The first days I had been miserable about my ruined life, but I was slowly adjusting, there was nothing I could do to change the circumstances anyway. It had happened and now I must pay the penalty with my life. Still I was glad that through myself I had destroyed their family lineage. There would be no heirs to follow me; I, the only one, was shut up in a dungeon. Here in this hole I awaited my life’s end. I would not even have wanted any offspring, why I did not know.

However, it gave me satisfaction that for my parents that sun had not risen. They were now in darkness too, their hope, their light, and their task were destroyed by me. I now felt that their ideas had been wrong. Already in my childhood I had thought about that, but could never completely understand it, until now. Their God now thought different about them. Would they still be able to feel love for Him after so many disasters?

This was the only trump I had been able to play out to destroy their happiness. And it was destroyed. I had escaped their torture, but now I was being tortured. If only my father would have beaten me to death, that would have been better. But no, not really, for I begrudged him that pleasure.

Would he lend himself to such things? Oh, for sure, I knew him only too well. Our lineage had contained those beings whose aim was violence and destruction. In earlier times, far back in the past, other incidents had occurred. When I was a child I heard rumours about them, but never learned the truth. When I asked my mother if what I heard was true, she said that I was too young yet and would not understand. I was exceedingly fond of history but our own family history was kept hidden from me. At least so I thought. I saw and sensed much violence that could not be explained away.

Everything that happened in the past had nothing to do with the living and I must not poke around in what was past, my mother said. When I talked with my father about it he shrugged his shoulders and I was none the wiser.

At this moment the flow of my thoughts was interrupted, because my thoughts turned to Marianne and I became consumed by love, which made me very sad. Still I did not want to be sad, for nothing could really be done about it. It had been quite remarkable, when Marianne came to visit me in my cell I felt that it was not I who then spoke. I myself would not have been able to speak in such a way. It had risen from the very depth of my inner feelings, which I neither knew nor understood. But it certainly was strange. Now I had no longings any more, I only waited for death, for I could never get out of this place. So I tried to fend off all those thoughts, but they crept back intermittently and I began to have my longings. My love was intense, apparently I loved too much. Was Marianne thinking of me? If so, then I felt her clearly and it warmed me inside.

One day followed after another, I had stopped marking off the days and weeks, for it only upset me more and I wanted to remain as quiet as possible. I could feel the approach of winter, for it was getting steadily colder. The wind shrieking through the gaps in the only shutter above me, frightened me. It was a painful feeling when the elements were in revolt. How could one still believe in a God of Love? Here in this place were hundreds of others with me who cursed Him. All those fellows lived in the most squalid misery, but I never saw them, for I was not allowed outside my cell. Here I lived, this was my and their world. Even if I would shout very loud, they would not hear me. Why did God allow this? Did I belong to those who had to be destroyed? God was our Father, of all of us. He could easily set me and the others free. But that did not happen.

The food was meagre and bad, as was the water I was given to drink. My poor body cringed, but yet I drank it, for there was nothing else. Because I suffered such a terrible thirst I had to drink it, but every swallow gave me stabbing pains in my belly.

Were they intent on torturing me to death in this manner? Why not at once instead of such painful torment. Only human beings could do things like that, an animal did not; his feelings were not enough developed, it wasn’t beastly enough. Man, however, possessed intellectual gifts and could therefore think up more sophisticated tortures.

But did God give him these talents for that? Was that why people were godly, as the Bible said? I was a murderer and had to make good, but I was not capable of such low things. To do such things seemed horrible, even more cruel than my deed; it was vindictive and mean. I had acted impulsively in anger, but here they inflicted pain on me and all the other poor wretches and foltered us slowly and tormentingly. We had to die but how long would it take? I had rather be decapitated on the block than this slow doom. Coupled with this came my inner melancholy from being shut-in and the thinking, always that thinking, that was indescribable. All this suffering made that I longed for death, the sooner the more welcome it would be to me. I wished I had not been born. Could I have come to earth just for this purpose? I cursed the moment I was born. Or was it my own fault that I was locked up in here? Who could answer me that? How I hated my parents, now even more than before. After every affliction that I felt my hate increased. How long would this have to last? Perhaps ten, twenty or thirty years? It would drive me insane.

For hours I lay with both hands under my head staring ahead of me. I was like a living dead man. Still my heart beat like any other person’s and in me I felt the longing for a bit of sunshine, a little love and human kindness. I yearned for it, while the person who had his freedom did not realize how fortunate he was. It lived within me and gnawed at my poor heart. But when I thoroughly felt it through, my thoughts turned to that incomprehensible God and I begged Him to make an end to this suffering. He, the Almighty could do this. However, I begged silently, inside of me, no man or animal was allowed to hear it. I did not dare asking or praying aloud, if this was praying.

The little animals around me would pity me, if they were conscious of such a thing. They represented the only life that I saw and felt here. Their presence helped me, for then I was not the only one who was imprisoned here. It was quite a wonder, but because of them I bore my suffering with more ease, for by day I followed their movements in everything and so the time sped by and days passed and my end came closer.

Every day that passed, for free people it meant an older age, for me it meant debility and loss of strength. Because of this food I would and should die, my poor body would deteriorate, it could not be else. That’s why I had to think all the time, about God too. However, the days and weeks passed and still I was alive. God did not hear me. Would I have to shout louder, much louder for help? I still could not do it yet and I doubted that God would hear me any better. Singing in the churches could be heard on the streets and yet they weren’t heard any better either. And so I lost weight visibly, my poor body suffered of rheumatism, cold and poverty and my face became angular.

Nights were the most unbearable, I thought they lasted a year. In me the longing began again. My heart asked for all those earthly items that make life on earth so much more pleasant. I yearned for the sun, for eating and drinking and for more room and so many things more. My heart asked and my soul begged. Both were sad and slowly dying.

If every person on earth could experience this, they would appreciate their possessions more. They do not realize their good fortune in what it means to have freedom, to eat and drink and other pleasures. Even the most miserable people are rich compared to me and the others here. The singing of the birds, the bark of a dog, hold a conversation with an other human being, oh, how happy that would make me.

After all these things, as I said before, all these earthly pleasures I hankered. I had always appreciated them during my life, but now I had nothing at all. To be able to see the sky, observe the night and day on earth I would submerge myself in my art, ah, I had nothing any more. In my first cell I had not wanted to meet people, now I hankered after it. A cup of water, a piece of fruit, for these small insignificant things I would lay down my life. My body craved all these things because I was alive. But it was cold here, miserably cold and I huddled down and battled with myself.

Human being, appreciate what you have. How ungrateful many are. You grumble and complain, you are dissatisfied and yet you have everything. You do not appreciate the sunlight that warms you. Lock yourself in and you will learn to appreciate. I too was ungrateful, for I did not understand. Still I lived with nature, she gave me peace and joy. Now I was sitting here in the deepest darkness peering, straining my eyes till they burned and ached, until I grew tired of staring, thinking and yearning and sank down, wishing that I would never wake up.

But always again I woke up and began to yearn and question: Why and wherefore all this? I have sinned, I am a murderer, but what would you have done? Could you have controlled yourself fully? I had asked myself this already many times without finding an answer. I shall do penance, bear everything that comes to me, but I felt that few of you would have acted differently. Those powers are not in you when you are in love, truly love. My love for Marianne caused me to do it, only through love. Must I stand idly by and watch Roni play out his diabolic game? Watch him defile her?

All these thoughts together with that awful silence nearly drove me out of my mind. Still I got used to it, but I felt that something in me was changing.

And so I always followed my feelings, and the days, weeks, months and years went by.