“Free for great souls, the earth still stands even now. Vacant still are many seats for the lonesome and the twosome, around which there wafts the fragrance of silent seas”
“Thus Spake Zarathushtra”
Own home, no matter how unprotected and old it may be, is still better than someone else’s fortress, because it is yours, it is saturated with your thoughts and your smells, and is not only a silent witness of your fear and hunger, of your sadness and hope, but is also a shearer, a compassionate companion and a supporter.”
“Everyone that Finds Me”
“There is a stone in China, with a wise writing
“He who does not seek friends is his own enemy”…
…Such is a human heart, insatiable, blind,
Always languishing with something,
Running away from Peace.”
“Knight in Panther’s Skin”
“Truly great people must feel great sorrow in this world.”
“Crime and Punishment”
If our God was Alive, he would interfere in everything that is happening among us and would crown with another deliverance this another yet era of overripe desperation and hopelessness.
For us, those maddened by the chase of the benefit, He would freeze the deserts of our activity, in order to remind us that this is not the most important thing. Millions of the producers of the unnecessary, but the desirable, would freeze in one day. Millions of houses of sin, fornication, vice, intoxication, meaningless wandering of a lonesome, vicious, cowardly creature in the search of satisfaction would empty, and so would the millions of institutions for gluttony and paid affection, for child abuse, for humiliation of people, for games and for the vain search of enrichment, for jealousy and tears. And in this freezing of our stinky stream, if our God was Alive, he would selectively leave functioning millions of factories and businesses, those producing and moving everything necessary for life, and even that not completely so, because, what we call necessary, has long ceased to be one. A bakery would work and feed the baker and the bread eater, but a seamstress of high fashion would not work and the dress sewn by her would not warm a shrew, and the seamstress would be obliged to sew the Best Robe. A brick factory would work, but a factory making the on-wall brocade for the arrogant mad men would stop working. A winery would work, but not the factory for the opiates. A good doctor, with basic, long ago tested drugs would work, but the unscrupulous giant pharmacists, who invent illnesses and medicine for some of them, would turn upside-down.
If our God was Alive, he would help us, those lost in our endless desires, to rethink what is truly necessary and among the millions of the ports, the factories, the ships, the trains, the planes, the cargos, the roads and the intersections frozen around the planet, everything senseless would dry up, and only the necessary would move. With difficulty, but would move.
And just as the toxic exhaust cloud would dissipate over the planet inhaling with difficulty, in the same way, the fog of lies and fury would dissipate in our eyes.
Billions of people, millions of complaints and ordeals in the courts, promising punishment and distress to those with conscience and promising rewards and gloating to those icily calm and without conscience, would stop at once.
Those who fed themselves from the madness of the Movement would go hungry and scared, and for those falling behind, the hope for the Renewal of the World would shine.
Seeing the complete deafness towards His Sacrifice, Love and Word, from the mankind, which two thousand years after has returned to paganism, He, the Undescribable and the All-merciful, the Wise and the Good, the Unlimited and the Unlimiting, would invent again how to save us, suicides.
Caring in his endless love about each one of us, interfering and quarreling with each other, He, as the most Just One, as the matter of the first order, would stand up for the most innocent and the defenseless among us, for the helpless babies, those being killed at the rate of 4 million each month around the planet, with the help of a knife, in their own “mothers’” wombs.
He would put these “mothers” in a quarantine at home, forcing them to simply miss the deadline of the abortion and thus saving 4 million babies each month.
It would appear to us that he is punishing us, by taking away prematurely through a virus several thousand of our elders, whereas in reality he would simply be ridding those elders, whom we are lazy to even look after, from the further necessity of watching our fallen world.
The elders who managed to live during the times, when decency still existed, when shame decorated women and courage – men, when the hope was cherished that the atoning sacrifice of the two world wars would suffice for generations, those elders completely disappointed, tortured by the contempt towards them from their own children, children who are unable to keep faithful to their spouses and are destroying their own families and breaking hearts of their own children with these divorces, the elders weeping because of their witnessing of the total wildness and perversion of those grandchildren, the elders, who probably thought from time to time, “I wish this was over soon.”
As for us the mad men, putting our savings like nuts in the hollow and faithlessly shaking towards the future, the more nuts we have – the more, the Living God would sit us at home and oblige us to look into the eyes of our spouses and our children, instead of a flat glass.
And very soon we would discover, that no savings in the hollow can give us the calm, and through the guttrenching fear, a piercing realization would come that all our hope is on Him.
And if our God was Alive, he would do all of that during the Great Lent in accordance with the real calendar, so that everyone could see who is of the right (“Orthos”-greek) conviction (“Doxa”-greek). And the spiritual battles, and the fear, and the vain feeling of hopelessness would rise towards the Week of Passions, and the Joy of Resurrection would come on Easter. And those of us, lenting (მარხვა, markhva – to lent, to burry – Georgian) would rise from the dead together with Him and with the fairy tale nature of our lands.
But before that, sitting home and regaining our humaneness through fear, we would quickly discover that the happiness is not in the chasing after something, but in our spouses and our children, in our conversations with them, in our joint labor for protecting and looking after our homes, whatever whoever can do, whatever is in whoever’s power.
And in those conversations we would discover bottomless happiness of the Piece, time, in its usual, itchy sense, would retreat and the unusual, circular, endless Time would reproach, inside which any rush is a shame. And in this labor, a secrete of longevity would be rediscovered – a desire to observe the fifth commandment and the desire to use its gifts.
But before realizing this, we, being unused to the new condition, would freak out, break down, and being lock up against our will, would frantically play with the attributes of the main symbol of our civilization, dribble the paper for its wiping and lick the places for its sitting, challenging each other to such social competitions.
But He would still not let us out of our houses, until we’d exhaust our madness, get sick of our own kicking and jumping, go silent and thoughtful, cry out and pray out, out of fear, horror or yearning.
If our God was Alive, He would call on the human, who has mutated into Homo Urbanicus Hedonicus, who is sitting since childhood chained in the Plato’s Cave and is staring at the perverted images of the Truth on the wall of his living room, to turn painfully his head in the direction opposite to the Hypnosis.
This direction is that very exit out of the stinky cave, where the real sun shines, where the real birds twitter, and where wafts the fragrance of silent seas.
And the mutant homo urbanicus hedonicus, forced either by the hunger in the cities, or by the fear of hunger in the cities, with pain and laziness, would turn towards the village, our fairy tale lands, crying in desolation, towards the overgrown graves of our ancestors, towards their only real Being. Being of Labor on the Land and of the War for the Land, without which Carl Schmitt’s war is empty and Carl Marx’s labor is vicious and uneasy.
Because of Him, we would start returning. From abroad – to our Homeland, from the cities – to the Land, from Hypnosis – to the Being. Food, boring with its diversity, would become tasty due to its lack and monotoneness, our slavery towards useless things would be replaced by our freedom from them, our days would become exhausting of labor and our dreams – blissful of Peace.
The Way of our life would change in its roots thanks to His mandate. Our children would stop being fatteners for slaughter by their kidnappers. During their adolescence they would be with us, helping us, and studying something far away from us would become a conscious rarity, instead of an unconscious standard. They would grow up faster, marry and breed much sooner and our anxiety for them, for their meaningless lives would sink into the Nothingness, where it belongs.
Death would be everywhere, and not in the ephemera of “an average expectancy of life.” We would die in the fields, during hunts, on the waters, in the wars, in snows, forests and sands, and not of illness in the beds of houses and hospitals, like the sentenced.
Thanks to her, the Death, we would regain Humaneness, and in this Dasein, someone among us, in the gaps between the working days of laboring on the Land, would sit at the table and write for everyone the New Constitution, not about the rights, but about the Obligations of the Human, and about the Rights of the Family, as the nucleus of the New World.
Everything which has grown above the states would evaporate and the Kings, meaning the philosopher-poets, who were warriors during their youth, would rule upon us.
If our God was Alive, he would let the fools, who believe that the preparation of the arrival of the other one is their own handiwork, to implement their another yet foolish plan through a virus, and the subsequent growth of the wars and conflicts, through the exhaustion of humanity through anxiety.
But inside those wars and anxieties, a marvelous flower of Scarlet Fury of Justice would blossom. It would flame in several countries, those who believe that they are good and are fighting the evil, and each citizen who is looking for dignity, would have access to the real Choice, the only Choice worth having – to be a twig of the flame of the Scarlet Fury, or to be its fair Victim.
The Depth of our first reactions and fears upon the arrival of this Time, would be shallow, as it is inherent to us. Locked up at home, we would worry about such mirages and the House Management or the Economy, Linear Time or Progress, and what is coming with the Fair Trial, or as the Greeks called it – the Crisis.
It would seem to us, as to the inexperienced mountaineers, that prevailing over this summit we would descend into the valley of carefree memories. And after overcoming the summit with this enthusiasm of the neophytes, we would be amazed: on the summit, as Caucasus has it, our gaze, fatigued in the expectation of relief, would fall upon the sea of similar summits, harsh and silent, cold and unpromising of anything.
Terrified of the seen, we would understand what Vaja Pshavela felt, when he wrote:
“I was in the mountains, standing on the summit,
The world lay before my eyes,
The sun and the moon rested on my chest
And I was speaking to God.”
The very thought of turning back would freeze us with the piercing Silence of Eternity and if our God was Alive, we would realize: this is Only The Beginning.
 Best Rope – of the forgiven Prodigal Son in the Bible