I knew someone terribly greedy.
Along his quest for unity, he would pick up all the symbols he encountered along the way and put them together in a big bowl he held under his arm.
The restlessness of his footsteps kept shaking this salad bowl and the sound of all these symbols clashing together gave him a earthy pleasure.
He plunged his hand into it all day long and pulled out a full handful which he then stuffed in his mouth.
As he walked, the bites of symbols left a shimmering powder in the man’s wake, and passers-by on the side of the path marveled at the colorful crumbs that pearled to the ground.
No sooner had he left the section occupied by the onlookers than they were questioning each other about the identity, the origin of such a man and already, the most fascinated among them were on the way to pick up the golden crumbs, hoping to become something close to this mysterious person.
I don’t know what happened to the symbol-cruncher, or if he finally built up his house, or if he settled down somewhere in a trailer making the tarot cards talk, smearing them with his words of ancestral scholar.
Some said he was amazed by these magical elements and eager to share with those of men in search of knowledge crumbs.
It is also said that an old man returning from Egoland came across him and found his almost dead, leaning against a rock, rambling, drunk on his own words, and puffed up with ancient salts.
He was kneeling in a puddle of thick yellowness, both hands rummaging in strange circles, each pulling out a stone and putting them together with a gray smile and a distant look, before throwing them away, grumbling an indistinct formula.
He didn’t seem to see the epigastric wound spilling liquid at his feet,
nor hear what the old man standing close was trying to tell him.
Franck – Nov 2022
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Picturesque.
The lure of the occult; the meaningless search for mystery in order to be mysterious. Forgetting that symbols, also, are meaningless, unless the observer gives them meaning.
Therein lies the folly of the man you describe and any who are impressed by him. They assume some intrinsic worth in trinkets, some intrinsic meaning, some reflected glory.
There is none.
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Hello Simon,
I have seen this mesmerizing so many times.
done my best to remain out of the master/disciples game.
Felt anger towards those selling fakeness and those buying it, then a distant and familiar irritation.
…Moved on an felt sadness for both.
Knowing they also both live inside myself.
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Knowing that is the first step to dealing with it. Said, mysteriously tracing a pentagram in the air…
Just for the devilment, of course…
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magical writing; loved this; I will have to look up epigastric; count me a follower 🙂 would be good if we commented on each other’s posts —
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