Of The Born Again
Zarathustra had been walking for quite some time when he came across a swamp. Foul air assaulted his nostrils and the sounds of swamp animals reached his ears. Verily he came upon an old man sitting on a rock, stroking a frog.
The old man turned to Zarathustra and spoke thus:
‘Zarathustra, I know who you are. My animals and I have long awaited your visit- we may be pleased by what is rotten but we are still capable of tasting that which is sweet and ripe.’
Zarathustra looked the old man in the eye and spoke thus:
‘Old man, this swamp is your home, but you once lived amongst princes and breathed pure air. However, you lost sight of what was great in yourself. It was thus that you denied yourself and your path- and ended up in this swamp.’
‘It is true’ spoke the old man,
‘It is true that once upon a time I lived far from this swamp. There was beauty in my life and no small measure of adventure. But the old ideal whispered to me and seduced me, and thereafter when I looked at myself I saw something fit for a swamp.’
Zarathustra paused for a moment, thinking, then replied:
‘Old man, my wisdom speaks thus to me: you must learn again to love yourself. Only thus will you leave all swamps behind.’
Thus spoke Zarathustra, and contined on his way.
Of Those Who Dream the World
You dreamers, you would have it that all the world was a creation of yourselves, and that all things could be touched by a mere thought! Thus you imagine an all powerful God, able to bend the universe at a whim. However there is no divine will behind all events, no commanding gesture. Your will to power prevents you from recognising the illusion as illusion and your mind races with imaginary relationships linking all things as a dream.
The god Chance spares no-one. Chance is both terrible demon and author of the greatest beauty.
But Brothers, I teach you this: the world is not dreamed! You must throw off the shackles of millennia of error. Only thus will you cross the bridge to the superman.
Thus spoke Zarathustra.
Of Good Work
One can reasonably expect to at least recreate oneself via one’s work, but to seek to create something greater requires much hope or faith.
The little man considers it good work when the old ideals are exalted. He would build a prison for all free birds.
Much good work is untimely and few have ears for it. It is an experiment as well as a herald of the future and a looking away from the present- there is much of the creator in it.
But my brothers, I teach you this: the best work brings about the superman.
The superman grows from the best work like a great tree grows out of fertile soil- tall and strong and resilient.
Thus spoke Zarathustra.