Tales Written by the Dying in Awe. Vysheslav Filevsky

to this creature and asked him anything. Why was it this way?

      Prayer thought a great deal about it. And he realized that he, with his spiritual wisdom, did not need anyone except himself and inconceivable heaven. He realized that his knowledge and truth were the knowledge and the truth only for himself, notwithstanding that he believed that he possessed a high knowledge inaccessible to the ordinary person.

      “Living creatures know everything themselves.” To this conclusion Prayer came. “They just wear a mask, suggesting that things are not clear to them. Everyone believes he possesses a supreme truth. And everyone believes this to such an extent that he is ready to preach to the world and to destroy everyone who thinks another way. Anyhow, everyone believes that otherwise-minded people are inferior.”

      Every one of us is a world; everyone is a cosmic space; everyone is infinity; everyone is right.

      But if so, where is the reliance? Well, after all, a head whirls with all of these opposite truths. Prayer knew the answer to this question too. But I will not reveal it. And you hardly need it, do you?

      Along the Sky, Dogs Run

      On a border of a village lived Yes-Man, while on the opposite border lived Truth Seeker did. When someone said that dogs run on the sky and birds fly under earth, Yes-Man nodded his head in agreement, while Truth Seeker entered into a desperate dispute. This is why Truth Seeker was considered a quarrelsome man, while Yes-Man was a delight for everyone. Yes-Man was welcome in the village; people did not refuse him anything. Meanwhile, Truth Seeker moved along his life as if poking through a primeval forest.

      Yes-Man had pity for Truth Seeker, and when they met one day, he told him, “The heart clenches at the sight of your martyrdom. For you, what is the truth for? If your superiors want dogs running on the sky and birds flying under the earth, just concede. Is it not all the same for you? About a hundred times, silently repeat, “Dogs run on the sky,” and finally, like all others, you will give credit to it. If you believe, you will obtain society’s respect and your superiors’ benevolence. It would be easy and pleasant to live. Consider that life is given to everyone only once. And as for your life, it is as if you found it among the garbage – you transformed it into martyrdom. Agree that birds fly under the earth, and if you must, cross your fingers inside your pocket. Just think, this is the way all sane people behave.”

      Truth Seeker boiled over. “Hey, am I sick or what?”

      “Well, how can one say that you are sane?” Yes-Man said with pity. “Look at you. Look at what a rage you are in. A person who is always angry is never sane.”

      But it was impossible to stop Truth Seeker. A flood of anger swept through him. Up hills and down dales, he denounced cunning rulers and mean, deceitful, and immoral inhabitants.

      Yes-Man lived out his life in prosperity and happiness. Meanwhile, Truth Seeker spent the last of his life in a hospital. I don’t remember now what kind it was – it was either a neurological ward or a psychiatric one.

      White Crow

      Man performed his physical exercises in a park. But nobody else did exercises in such a place. So other living creatures looked at Man as if he were a white crow.

      Man knew that he was a white crow. This is why he took the attitude of the surrounding creatures for granted. He even tried to speak to real black crows in (as it seemed to him) their own language, though the black crows did not understand him. They became either frightened or outraged. They had no desire to have anything in common with Man.

      Perhaps the speech of the white crow did make some sense to the black crows. But evidently, it was unpleasant for them and maybe insulting. Then the white crow realized that he did not need any conversation with the black crows. Instead, how nice it was to admire them from afar, to watch their lives, and inwardly to declare his love for them!

      When the white crow behaved like this, he felt a deep harmony with life, with the world of living and inanimate creatures created by an inconceivable heaven. He forgot about his inferiority; he was a small particle of existing matter. And he realized that this was exactly what is called happiness.

      Patient Chart

      When the sky of heaven created me, the planet earth (as you call me) and my physical sky, I looked like the sun. I was a sphere boiling with fire. This fiery existence was unpleasant for me because there was no peace in it. My ideal is to live in great peace. But everything in its time.

      I cooled down. Soon my body pleased me well, and so I gave many thanks to the merciful Inconceivable. However, sometimes, as if against my will, earthquakes and hurricanes happened. But they only emphasized my quietness. They just strengthened the sensation of my benign nature. So with pleasure, I perceived myself as a planet.

      I especially liked it when moisture evaporated from my surface and turned into rain-bearing clouds. Sometimes I even felt a need to transform into an aqueous whirlwind and distribute my power in a huge storm cloud, because I knew that my skin, my surface, needed the moisture. It needed it everywhere. With my mind, I formed clouds. Then I spilled water on those parts of my skin that were thirsty. From this I felt a great satisfaction.

      Over time, the sky of heaven created a spiritual sky of earth. Those skies and earth gave birth to many living creatures. One of these creatures, people, developed the need for spirits. The merciful spiritual sky of earth generated them too.

      It became harder for me. People considered the spiritual sky of earth to be the prime cause of everything. Those concepts proliferated and eclipsed the sky of heaven, blocking my view of it as if with thick, dark clouds. Because of this, I suffered. But people did not stop at this point. They began to worship their own kind. This was their choice.

      The spiritual dark clouds became impermeable. It got very hard to breathe. No longer could I form a rain-bearing cloud and spill my moisture where it was needed. My skin dried up here and overheated or supercooled there. People treated me more and more barbarically, more and more cruelly. My diseases became severe, constant, and incurable. I felt impending death. And then I cried out to the benign sky of heaven, which had been cut off from me.

      The Great Inconceivable heard my pleading and returned my hearty love and tremulous veneration. It taught me how to dissipate the clouds of customs, beliefs, and bustle. It even endowed me with the grace of love for the living beings that led me to destruction. Step by step, I became happy again. And the forthcoming death did not scare me any longer, because I stopped being a material thing. I learned how to thin the dark spiritual cloud of human customs and faiths and see the sky of heaven.

      Heaven’s Benevolence

      Sometimes righteous men think, “How good it is to be a saint! How good to sit endlessly in a mountain cave and devote oneself to the meditation of heaven. To settle in a nest among the thick branches of a tree and meet the eastern sun with prayer.” However, everyone realizes that prior to happily separating oneself from the world, one needs to develop the skill of finding nourishment, like an animal or a bird does, or to acquire the ability to generate the nutrients necessary for life inside of one’s own body.

      Such practices exist. This is how one can become a saint and hermit. But it is good to be aware that acquiring such skills can take half a lifetime of hard-praying labor. Only afterward will the delight of a cave or a nest be felt.

      But where is the guarantee that all of this tough work will be crowned with success, that the would-be saint will not find himself back at the bottom of the ladder and realize that his life was spent in vain, and that instead of a nest, he has made a loop for himself? Besides, society would actively assist