Gaia Ascends New Beginnings!
Gaia Ascends New Beginnings!
I haven’t been on here in a while and will probably only be on once a week or so. The truth is that I don’t have it in me anymore for chit chat superficial posts. Life is too short and there is too much to do! Now is the time for doing and not talking, so the question becomes: what are you doing?
I will tell you what I have been doing besides my normal weekly job; I’ve translated and published three issues of Der Orchideengarten, the world’s first fantasy magazine which started publication in 1919 in the German language and continued for 51 issues. In today’s world it’s not what you say, but what you do that counts!
Now why would anyone think that these magazines are important? Germany had just lost World War I, which was one of the most horrible wars in history with mustard gas and trench warfare on both sides. The world came out of WWI deeply divided with one side having found religion and the other side falling into a decadent lifestyle. We see the great depression on the horizon; prohibition and cabarets were in competition with each other and this conflict found a focus and outlet in the brilliant literature of this time.
There is a story in the 3rd issue of Der Orchideengarten where a former soldier is confronted by those whose death he is responsible for. Here is a small quote:
This breathless silence strangles me, and reminded once more of seeking inner salvation, I shout:
“Wasn’t I allowed to do this? They shot at me too!”
“I didn’t shoot anyone,” breathed the French woman. — — — — — —
Oh, my God, I know, what she wants to say: And yet she lies here…
And I fall on my knees. Repentance comes over me, and I sob:
“You are right, Madam; and you too, comrades; you are right in your despair. I should not have permitted myself to kill. Not me! I, myself, have broken the Word of God; I have only myself to blame; I am the criminal! Because I have been given the grace to recognize what is good and what is human — I have betrayed grace for violence. The violence might have killed me — perhaps. As a coward I would have been more infamous than in death. But as a coward I would have had the courage, to have chosen my own path. And if a hundred refused to kill, like me, a thousand more would have also refused. And if a thousand refused, ten thousand would have followed their example. And the world would have been a little less drenched in blood, and the good seed would have been spread all over the world — and those rotting here around my ravaged knees would not have taken their last journey with me.
Words fail me. I do not know anything else — there is nothing more to learn under the watchful eye of death; which without moving as much as an eyelash, will keep watching me — until my own eyes go blind, and the endless night engulfs me and carries me away.
