Читать книгу Tarot and the Medici Patience. Grimoire - Petr Krylov - Страница 17

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Rice – Daaad, hey daaad, why do the rails keep clattering? – Because the Clock of Fate ticks loudly, my boy.¹⁷⁰

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In the previous chapter, it came to light that, at the causal level, the destiny of most ordinary people (Mages and Stalkers not included, for now) is steered not by inner, but by external causes.

In other words, for the train of fate to change direction, the switchman must throw the switch, while the passengers—still locked in eternal debate over a glass of murky liquid in the third compartment, endlessly wrestling with 'who, you see, is to blame and what ought to be done'—can happily go on arguing forevermore.

This mechanism is a safeguard by which freedom of will becomes possible for certain individuals—at least, until a certain moment or some threshold value is reached.

But who are those mysterious switchmen who flip the levers? The answer is both paradoxical and simple. But first, an Anecdote:

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…A devilish commission strolls into the hall where cauldrons full of sinners are merrily boiling.

Suddenly, a fellow leaps out of the first cauldron, scurries over to a table conveniently stationed beside it, grabs a bottle of moonshine, fills a glass to the brim, knocks it back, and sprints straight back into the cauldron. And at the table, dozing, sits an ancient devil. The head of the commission asks: where, pray, is the security? But the old devil replies that no security is needed: the Russians are boiling away in their cauldron. All they require is to have a bottle of vodka close at hand—they need nothing else in this life.171

As for the second cauldron, it was guarded by a horde of devils brandishing pitchforks. ‘That’s where the Jews are simmering,’ explained the infernal steward. ‘If even one manages to climb out, he’ll haul the others up after him.’

And the third cauldron was left entirely unguarded. To the commission head’s silent inquiry, the steward replied: ‘Oh, that’s where the Ukrainians are boiling.’ ‘And there’s no guard, because if one of them tries to climb out, his own people will drag him back down by the legs.’

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As the saying goes, every joke contains a grain of joke. Everything else, as they say, is pure, as pure as a baby’s tear—naked truth…

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Rice—How are you, brother?¹⁷²

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Let us proceed in the manner of Christ—teaching with anecdotal parables:

Once upon a time in Western Ukraine, there lived two brothers – Taras and Gritsko. Then the Soviets came to power. Taras joined the collective farm and took his seat on the tractor, while Gritsko remained on his own homestead. When the Germans arrived, Taras joined the partisans, while Gritsko became a policeman.

The Soviets returned once more. Taras emerged from the Forest and went back to the collective farm, to his tractor. And Gritsko? Off he went to Siberia, to the logging camps.

But time flies swiftly, and at last Gritsko returned home. But he didn't stay on in the village; they never forgave him his police bravado there. He found work in the district center, as a mechanic in the Machine and Tractor Station. You blink—and he's already a brigade leader, then a shift chief, until at last he ascends to chairman of the district agricultural machinery administration. And his brother, Taras, is still in the collective farm, driving his tractor. One day he came into the district, dropped in on his brother, they sat down, drank some horilka.

"I just don’t get it, Gritsko." "All my life I've worked honestly, and yet I’m still just a simple tractor driver." So, you—the traitor—sat out in the camp, and yet became a big boss?

– Exactly so. And in my file, who's listed as my brother? A heroic partisan! And you? A police collaborator!

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Rice Paw to paw, body to body. Both to keep warm and to listen in.¹⁷³

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That’s exactly why the devout and those seeking spiritual evolution often withdraw to monasteries. There, as they care constantly for one another, they evolve themselves and help others to do the same.

So, to the question: who is this nefarious scapegoat? Who has cut off the oxygen for me—so talented and remarkable as I am? Who has fastened my trousers to my shirt?

At which point, the crowd can gleefully shout in unison, “МММММММММММЫЫЫЫЫЫЫЫЫЫЫЫЫ – T H E C O L L E C T I V E!!!”…174

And often, much like in the Anecdote, people will gouge out their own eye, just so their neighbor won't have two.

All of this would be funny, if it weren’t so sad. From this point of view, the childish and naïve slogans of Christianity—‘Love your neighbor as yourself’—look a bit different. Strange as it may sound, this algorithm actually works—and what’s more, it’s even strategically advantageous. Napoleon would have understood.175

Still, folks who have been through the wringer tend to wise up quickly, and soon they’re stampeding en masse to certain saints and priests, pleading, ‘pray for us, won’t you?’

Thus, from everything said above, it is fair to assert that the switchmen (for the average soul) are simply everyone around them, to one degree or another.

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Rice Food! Food! Food! Let me through! Move aside! Yes, move aside, you scoundrels! Why are you all pushing your way in so brazenly, cutting the line? Let me pass! I reserved this spot back in my past lives!¹⁷⁶

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Nonetheless, there exist other mechanisms for deflecting the arrows of Karma.

Chief among these, and strangely enough, is sleep. For it is in sleep that one enters the collective unconscious, and there, much of one’s fate is inscribed.

Yet, few realize—or even suspect—that their own dream is at once, and in part, the dreams of others. As a Rule, one's nearest kin, friends, and acquaintances. And, first and foremost, one's spouse and children.177

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Fig. I'll wait a little longer. Perhaps he'll come out onto the road.¹⁷⁸

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This is why respectful regard for women is held in such esteem, and precisely why gentlemen are always fortunate. For it is the dreams of women that first and foremost shape the Karma of men—or rather, the realization of their desires in the Real.

This Law of the Mirror is the world's defense against those who are a bit too grand, with eggs that clang too loudly. They can huff and puff to their heart’s content, shaking their fists and brandishing their Weapons all their Life.

But a so-called 'weak and defenseless' woman, in her sleep, will weave his fate just as he deserves. And she’ll arrange it not only in this Life, but in the ones to come as well.179

Were it not for this protective mechanism, the toughest would simply become tougher, driving everyone else into the ground up to their ears. And his offspring would finish off the rest completely.

Yet, in reality, this never comes to pass. This, of course, is precisely why every dictatorship and empire eventually crumbles. This is exactly why any family or lineage with a formidable tyrant at the helm will invariably degenerate by the third generation. There's even a proverb about it: 'Nature rests on the children of geniuses.'

As soon as Karma becomes distorted at the causal level, certain key qualities unravel—and after two or three generations of despotism, the dynasty collapses of its own accord.

It is precisely these mechanisms—unseen and beyond anyone’s control—that serve as Divine Providence, wielded in the delicate hands of the 'weak and defenseless' ladies. Those very same unseen guardians who sustain the Balance of the Universe. 180

To one who cannot perceive the succession of generations and their evolution, it may not seem so. But once you extend your gaze across even a few centuries, this becomes perfectly obvious.

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Rice. xррррррррр… Xрррррррррррррр… Xрррррррррррррр… xррррррррррррр… ххххххххgrrr… xxgrrrr? xxGRRRRR??? xрррррррр!!! xррррррр. There we go! Now, everything is just as it ought to be.¹⁸¹

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So, what do the Mages and stalkers make of all this?

First and foremost, Mages are skilled in entering lucid dreams—a state they label as trance—and by orchestrating events within the dream, they’re able to tweak their fate from the outside.182

And not just their own, but, it would seem, entirely foreign destinies as well.

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Rice And the boundaries melt, melt away… Everything that was frozen stirs back to life!¹⁸³

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Yet a dream is such a curious thing – it is marvelously multifaceted. Moreover, the deeper one digs, the nearer the schism from the Real, and there is Recoil – the dream 'slips' from the Mage’s grasp.

And the presumptuous Mage is cast out into the 'real.' Sometimes not only cooled and cold, but slightly spoiled as well.184

This is the World's second defensive wall. It protects the World from mages who are a little too crafty for their own good.

The Stalkers, however, chose a different path.

They do not attempt to alter fate through their own dreams. They simply understand what Life is, and where the reverse and the face of it lie, far more clearly than apprentice mages.

Through purely scientific and practical inquiry, they found that a human life is the dream of God, in which we all ‘live.’ What seems real to us is, in truth, the dream of a single vast being, which itself is but the reflection of the dream of the multitude of lesser consciousnesses that constitute it.

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Thus, stalkers do not descend into dream-trance for magical operations like mages, but instead interact directly with the sleeping consciousness of God, who perceives everything as the Real.185

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So, what's the difference, you may ask?

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Rice – Halt! Who goes there?! Password?! – Password. – Prrrrrroceed…¹⁸⁶187

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And the difference is that someone is watching the dream, whether you're aware of it or not. And since God is constantly reviewing your life as a dream, He is the one who shapes it.

And if one plays Life by certain rules, as an Actor does, this dream (your reality) will change according to particular mechanisms.188

As those acquainted with the theater know, there are only about a dozen fundamental plots, and the storyline determines the end when played out in a certain manner.

Many sneer at Actors, but as the classic noted, 'all the world's a stage, and the people upon it merely Actors.' Whether they realize it or not.

Furthermore, if you try to steer the dream by way of dream-trance, you inevitably come up against the defensive mechanisms of the World, which are rather tricky to navigate inside the dream. At least, for the ordinary mortal.

Yet, by moving through the Real as if in the dream of God, one may engage with these mechanisms—both directly and obliquely—with a far grander range of freedoms.

Though, even here, certain drawbacks lurk. Well, you can't have strengths without weaknesses.

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