God forbade...must reading!

Zarathustra Culture




I flew too far into the future and was shocked. When I looked around me, only time was at my side.



  I flew backwards, toward home and flew faster. And finally arrived here, in the present day, to this land of culture.



  I turned to look at you, and I was glad to see you. What came over me, whatever. Though scared, I had to laugh. Never had I seen anything so pasted up, superficial. I trembled with a curious heart. It cracked me up this home of grand appearance.



  With such an ease to throw up face, I was amazed with the present. Mirrors projected this paint and it was repeated.



You present day men could not wear any better mask than your own face. Who could recognize you?



  Faces were written over with past character and pencilled in new character. People were camouflaged from all indication.



  Though we believe in a sense of control, there was no proof. Sheer facsimile and fabrication of pieces. The zeitgeist brought different colors from your veils. All custom and belief found different color in gestures.



To be stripped of all phoniness, a pitiful sight would remain. I saw you naked and I had to turn away.



  I'd rather work hand to mouth in the nether world among the shade of what's come before. More well off are the nether worldlings. Your present condition bothered me. All, in the future, that is alien with uneasy curiousity is better and more familiar than your reality.



This is sheer bitterness to my gut, I can't look at you naked or clothed, present day people.



 You said, we are completely real, without faith and superstition. You give yourselves tokens of distinction without them.



  Surely, how would you be able to believe, you multi-colored ones? You who are pictures of all that's ever been believed. Meandering disproofs of belief, itself, are you, a dislocation of all thought. I call you untrustworthy.



In your spirits, you babble periods against each other, these dreams more real than your awakening.



 You are unfruitful, therefore, you lack belief. But, the creative had their prophetic dreams and astral warnings, he believed in believing.



  You are half open doors where grave diggers wait. This is your reality, everything deserves to perish. How you unfruitful ones stand there, skinny. Many of you knew these things. It's been said, God must have taken something from me in my sleep, enough to make you effeminate. The present day man says, look at how I'm lacking.



 You make me laugh, especially when you marvel at yourselves.

I'd be in trouble if I couldn't laugh at your marveling, taking in what's hard to swallow.



  Because I have to carry the weight, it makes you lighter. What does it matter if beetles and May bugs are carried with. Neither that nor you will make it worse.



  Whether I carry on longing, I lookout for the hinterland. I still have to find my home, unsettled in cities, moving on.



  Present day men are alien to me, a mockery. My heart impells me, I'm exiled from the hinterland. I love only my children's land, undiscovered in the most remote sea. I set sail. I will make amends to my children being the child of my fathers, and unto the future this present day.







Thus Spoke Zarathustra

Frederick Neitzche