©Jason I. Stutz 2018
The Comet came down through the atmosphere, carrying with it seeds that would be pollinated throughout the world… not one person knew what it brought, if it was good, if it would change things- if, even, when they survived, what life would look like. It landed, in a large field in central Russia, gently, more gently than anyone would have thought it could, like an egg that bounced a few times on soft earth and rolled some meters before it found its place of rest. It seemed happy, this comet, in the place where it found itself, steaming hissing heat from its body, millennia and millennia and millennia of light-years from where it began.
The Comet was happy.
From above, came- like sparkles that come down skyward on Fourth of July in America, golden flecks glowing hot in their descent. One large fleck floated down to touch a Norwegian boy’s face. It was warm and stuck to the side of his delighted, grinning face as though to kiss him with a wet embrace. Large flecks of golden-amber rained lightly over Central Africa, as though they were guided there, a flock of birds that moved with one mind but individual joy. All they needed now was just a drop of rain to make the flowers bloom. There was fear, at first, but the soil softened with every kiss of The Comet’s dust.
The Hesychast mosied over to the wooden fence on his daddy’s ranch. His face bright with knowing mischief and glee, he turned and gave a wink at you, the reader; then he looked off into the distance a ways over the hills. Cows on the hills, grazing. Horses snorting and lolling in the bright hot sun. This ranch has seen trouble. But trouble is past now. We don’t worry about that anymore. It’s as though what was written suddenly was easily erased and a clean, new sheet of paper was there in its place. It took a moment- to realize, that is- that all that they had done and had done to them could just as easily be changed. The Hesychast took off his coat. In as much as it took to do that, he removed the crusty layer of his past and stepped into himself anew. It had been two days since The Comet.
His life had been alright. The struggles he bore were as much his own doing as they were his own peculiar way of being deceived. He took that rope off, too- the rope, that is, they used to pull him into sorrow. The women. They were as much a gift as they were a trick. Now, he’ll love better, he knows, not giving in to swim in the dark rivers like he did. Enough of all that.
But he’s stuck, he sees. He just took off his coat; why is he still stuck on something? He thought about it for a minute, ‘Stuck. Stuck. Why am I stuck? What am I stuck on? Why can’t I move freely, yet?’ With that thought, a chorus of angels singing it with him, a woman comes in through the door of his office. He doesn’t know her. He kicks himself, or, rather, I kick him, thinking him myself. Of course it would be a woman, you fool, who comes to trick him into himself- into owning up to all he is. Dammit. It’s so embarrassing. Maybe that’s what some women are for. Or maybe, the good women don’t come to fool you, but save you- to pull you out to notice softness and tenderness and grace. But this one…
She’s a strange type, from a different class, walks different than the women he knows, wears diamonds and fashionable clothes. She seems above it all. She wants men for herself and considers herself a gift to be doled out in controlled doses to someone who worships her right. But he doesn’t know her. He doesn’t know her and he is uncomfortable, but doesn’t know why. She’s pretty, but polished. Just the kind he doesn’t understand. Why would a woman work so hard to make her outside look pretty when inside, where she’s coming from, is a bucket of knives? But I’ve imagined all these thoughts about women into his head. He knows her not and is about to find out. He doesn’t know he has a choice about it, yet.
She sees the Hesychast has something in him, a quiet presence that is his power. She can’t help it, and wants to have it, so instead of meeting him eye to eye with her heart open like she should, she turned out her nose and looked over his left shoulder to his devil, to see how to get him. She didn’t know she was doing that… but, maybe, really, she did. She got something from the comet, like everyone.
The Hesychast came from a modest family. They had money enough, but you wouldn’t know about that from how they fought. The fighting was the problem. No one agreed on anything because they all just fought for themselves. The Hesychast fought to not get bent like that, but as a little boy it’s hard to fend off bad lessons. Those towering figures twice or more than his own height, pointing down, sending firey darts from their eyes, adept with ropes, riding horses, ways of doing things… It’d take a soul wiser than his years not to believe they were like God. He still gets mad when he goes up against someone who acts like they did, especially those who expected to get their way. If he wanted something, anything from this woman, he’d be in trouble (((because she’d give with contingencies and a man can’t live with contingencies- he’d rather die, or he’d rather not at all. But sometimes a contingency appears as a test to overcome in order to gain life, but from another. I don’t have to tell you, this is actually a road to ruin and death))).
It wasn’t her he was attracted to. It was what she represented that he’d never had. A prize. Money. A woman with money. A polished heffer with golden tassles on her tail and ears. If only she was a real heffer with good milk and a sweet heart. She was alright, had her good points, but wasn’t very fond of showing them. Instead, she polished most of her words as they came to her lips before they reached his ears. “How do, cowboy?” She kind of bounced on her feet cutely and her tits perked up on her chest. She shaped those three words in her mouth before they left it, made them smooth and just round enough to hit him sweet in his gut and balls. Things aren’t looking so good for the Hesychast. His eyes got wide from not knowing what to do and glazed up. He started looking in his mind for something to be that would “ make him right” with her. He couldn’t find anything but fear, so he pretended to be “like” her instead and didn’t do very well, thank god. He’d been touched but not fully coated by the asteroid’s dust. There was a piece of leather or something covering his groin. She was touched by it, but acted like she never was, like an immortal liar. She came to him to take this leather off. He wanted it off, but not for her, but for him, so that he’ll be coated right and complete- so that he’ll be all he is and no one he’s not.
The Hesychast had dinner in front of him and started to clean his plate. “You look mighty hungry, there,” she laughed. Laughing, too, at himself, he said, “Yeah, I guess I am.” He looked like a little boy who’d been caught. “What can I help you with?” he said, putting his plate aside. “I was looking for a big, strong man to help me with my bull,” she said, a wink and a challenge in her eyes.
He snorted a bit. “I’m pretty ok with bulls. Anything wrong with it?”
“I just can’t seem to make him do what I want,” she said, her mischief growing into an obvious double-entendra that made the Hesychast queezy. The Hesychast didn’t yet know that you can’t ever make anything do anything the way you want. You can only learn what they already are and guide them to it. That’s why he was only “pretty ok” with bulls. He struggled with forcing things. He’d become great with bulls after he’d learned it. For now, he still struggled with his ways. That’s why this woman came. So he could realize his own way.
“I could take a look for you, but you’d be better off with Tom, I suspect. He’s a real bull riding man and knows how to… achem… (twitching, scratching his head) make ‘em… uh… do things, like you said.” He looked out over his right shoulder, shook his head and looked over his left. Sigh. With almost a cry in his heart that he couldn’t discern the origin of, he asked her what she wanted the bull to do, anyway. She was trying to sire him with a particular heffer. Uh huh. Maybe he doesn’t want to be sired with that particular heffer, he thought, but changed his mind. Something broke in his spine, when he opened his mouth to agree to help her try to sire with the heffer she spoke about. “The heffer comes from a noble lineage,” she said. “You can see why I’d want this bull to sire with her.” The Hesychast shook his head. That’s what everbody says, but that’s not what makes a great bull. But he doesn’t know that, yet.
“Let’s take a look,” said the hesychast.
They walked a ways. The Hesychast’s feelings were all disrupted. He felt out of his league to be talking to this woman. Her tits were cute. He knew she knew that and and he was aware that she used them proper on men. He was feeling confused. He couldn’t even gather the courage to ask himself why he felt so weak. He felt like he had to impress her, that his manliness was at stake if he couldn’t help her. They walked along the dirt past stables and horse trailers on the camp grounds. Horses ninnied and bulls in dark coverings snorted and impatiently stamped their hooves. A young cowboy with a lasso in his hand and a hat that looked too wide for his small frame noticed the two walking and craned his neck to see, smirking to himself, probably knowing why. The hesychast stumbled over a rock and a few of his teeth fell out and his boot loosened on his left foot. This woman seemed to grow larger in stature and power, a full head taller than him, wider in breadth and almost hovering off the ground. He considered she might be omniscient and this thought terrified him. Out of the corner of his eye she appeared to be wearing the robes of an ancient greek maiden, a stern look on her face, expecting to be pleased. Up ahead was a squared-off fence where, in the middle on a patch of dirt, the large, powerful bull stood immovable. The woman seemed normal again, when his perspective shifted up ahead to the bull, and he felt relieved. She adjusted herself. “He’s a stubborn bull and I don’t like him,” she said. “I don’t like stubborn bulls.” Her voice felt like blasphemy and scorn, like she’d obliterate this bull rather than let him be. But the poor hesychast didn’t understand that blasphemy, only that he felt some weird identification with this “stubborn” bull who wanted his own way and he had to correct it for her. The bull turned it’s majestic head. The hesychast knew he’d be beat but went to try even at cost to his life. He asked why he’d take such a risk but the woman started to speak. She said weird repetitious things: “He’s a stupid, useless bull only good for his semen. Useful stupid semen; stupid bull,” and he felt like a long tongue was wiping his mind and he could hardly feel his hands. They approached the fence without precautions and she guided the Hesychast inside and closed the gate behind him. “What am I doing?” he asked. “Get his semen!” she shouted spitefully. He came to a bit. “What about the tools?” he cried. The woman snorted in a cloud of disgust and he felt like hundreds of poison darts were shot at him. “This is so stupid. I thought you knew what you were doing!” she reprimanded him. “Come on now, reach out for his balls and gather the semen.” She sounded conciliatory. He stood there dumbfounded. “What is happening to me?” I have no tools, what is this woman doing? She acts like she’s telling me what to do but then why does she need my help? He stood there. The bull watched him. Suddenly he knew he was in danger. He picked up his body and ran back toward the fence. The woman was standing in the gap and began to shut it. The bull did not chase the man. If he had grabbed his balls, he would have. The man ran as the woman closed the gate in front of him but he climbed the fence and jumped over and fell to his knees on the dirt. She laughed when she saw he was ok. He was stunned. “Why did you close the gate?” Laughing, her hidden spite in her heart stepping on his, “I knew you’d be able to jump over it.” “But why did you close it?!” Laughing, she said nothing more. He forgave her like he always did when people treated him mean, not aware of the rage that was building beneath.
“ I think you’d better ask Tom. It’s obvious I don’t know what to do.” He shook his head, feeling totally off-center from his heart. “Tom!” she said, waving her hand. ‘Can’t have this much fun with Tom,’ she thought. “Come over tonight and I’ll tell you how I’m going to pay you. Try again tomorrow- you’ll get ‘im!” she snarled and let out a dry, condescending snort, as though she were doubtful but was giving him a chance. He sought her helplessly in his heart for softness and found on a little, which she became instantly aware of and covered it to make it hard. He felt his balls ache. “What kind of woman is this?” he asked himself, but quickly she spoke about the stupid, useless bull and his mind was wiped by an invisible tongue. “Try again tomorrow,” he heard in his mind. His heart rebelled below but he couldn’t hear or feel it. His hands and face were numb and his eyes were all glazed. “Okaaayy,” and his voice expressed feigned self-doubt that he would try to overcome. He felt like a fake and tried to be real for her. “You’re like a little boy,” she said. He turned his face shy toward her and nodded his head. He snorted, as though to say “Isn’t it obvious?” mocking himself. She smiled tightly, looked pleased, as though she could command him forever, as though she knew it all already and him nothing, but as though he was supposed to know it all, but she wouldn’t teach him, he had to figure it out for himself, so that he could work for her.
Well, sometimes they don’t make it out alive… til they die, then they get it back. But… maybe… if there was just a little light left in him after that woman took his mind… it’s doubtful, but, maybe he’ll find his way back from the abyss she sent him in.
She took his mind, and his body, too. She lead him to a concrete door down a brick alleyway lined with philodendron, ferns, and concrete benches. She opened the door and pushed him on his back like one would to a horse. His hands hung in front of his belt buckle- they went inside.
Instantly, the six very large snakes who magnetised to her shortly after the comet fell, now rose again into her field of energy, standing taller than the Hesychast, facing him, coils of their each’s body grounding them to the Earth. They hissed and spat venom, peaked with excitement.
She merely lay her arm flat in front of her, like swinging closed a door, and the six very large snakes all lashed eagerly to bite the Hesychast’s flesh and suck drunk with their mouths his lifeblood. Surely, the snakes will provide her a glorious power.
The Hesychast only blinked- so white was his mind. He soon lay flat on the floor boards of the otherwise concrete, windowless room- a little office she found to do her dirty work. He lay there wondering why he isn’t good enough- didn’t the comet fall on him, too? This woman is strong, has power- why not him? Her face was so pleased at his demise. She really wanted it.
The snakes gorged his flesh and blood, their red, glistening faces darting in and out of his body cavities. “I did something wrong. I’m sorry,” he thought. “Why am I not good enough?” he breathed out his last. She bent over him, her snake-fevered face to his as his final air escaped with his spirit from his lungs. “Why am I so powerful?” she breathed in his spirit, his addictions, his freedom, and kept him there, in several alveoli of her evil lungs. “This was a good one,” her body shook, feeling excitement and power. “And now it’s mine. And now it’s mine,” she knelt to a red master who appeared in the air as she bowed. Her body shifted on this power, squeezing all her curves like a parent who nourishes her, the powerful snake body.
His body soon disappeared; even the bones. Even the blood was lifted by their tongues until all traces of his physical existence disappeared from the face of the Earth, who moaned, crying out to the endless Universe, Her heart anguished, for where is her child, now?
In the mighty air, God felt for the Hesychast’s vibrational tone. Once known, always known, by God. He recreated every cell of the Hesychast’s body to be set, again, on the warm, grateful bosom of the astonished Earth. Never has Nature repeated herself, not ever- but once, she forgave God to receive the living body that had already died.
“Especially considering that it was the one time in all of history that a murder was actually unfair,” God compromised within himself on his own principals. “The comet and all- and there really wasn’t any time to make adjustments after the change happened so quickly.” God fawned over His creation. “And besides, the comet brought in high enough vibrations to allow for such anomalies, now,” He lied, obviously in error.
‘But God can’t err!” you say. And you were right. God forbid God ever errs. But here, this once (and somehow he has made the Kosmos to sustain this single error, so Holy is His Wisdom).
And for that, the man, the Hesychast, came to be known. He In Who God’s One Error Is Corrected. A great compensation machine exists for the benefit of all creation- a wheel, and he is the center- set in motion long, long, long, long, long ago. God made His error, calculating 1,000,000,000,000 aeons in advance what His own error will be, creating the ability for the Kosmos to reflexively compensate for this or any error.
Here, from this one error, this one man became the object of God’s Desire. God remembered him back into existence, obviously favoring His feminine side in so doing. He wanted to know what it is like to be a human.
He- the Hesychast- wondered what He’d done wrong that God helped him so- and immediately began to repent- even before the words reached God’s lips to tell him. He knew and he resolved to eradicate that emotional pattern from the great “Torah” written within His Heart. The ram’s horn blew. A new Law prohibiting self-defamation, and Psalms that extol the new hymn of His Desire.
“You are meant for ever-greatening births into ever higher spheres that await you. I am guiding you as myself.”
“If He desires me,” considered within himself, the Hesychast, “He may have me!” and his Heart fused with his voice, suddenly elastic with God’s Heart. As He spoke, drank water, danced with the people He met, God’s voice bound with the Hesychast’s voice, like a strong muscle bound to two bones.
The act of his second coming did have one effect upon Adam’s soul. He no longer wondered why he wasn’t good enough, as God has proven through this Act that he was good, and his was to remember to feel good in himself, that is all- his mission.
“It’s good to feel good,” Adam said. “Not like before.”
First, God questioned the Hesychast, who, at first, had a difficult time staying awake. But soon, the Hesychast’s heart began to glow and the warmth of God’s Breath coursed through the veins that God had gave him. Gradually, the Hesychast remembered himself, and rejoiced in his relationship with God. And for that, the man, The Hesychast, came to be known, “He In Who God’s One Error Is Corrected.”
Chapter 2
There was that one thing, actually… one little immovable part of him that no matter what coerced him to change it, said, “No.” Even if he begged that part of him to sell out, he couldn’t make it bend. He was just too angry, there. And the more pressure he was given to change it, the angrier it grew. That part of him was the one that his mother gave him: She’d tell him to stand up for himself against anyone, then yell and scream at him to change. She was crazy, and didn’t know she was doing it, but it created the desired effect. He was so angry when somebody tried to make him do opposite to his own will that, even in the darkest night- as the one he slept in with this woman- still, below lay the grumblings of discontent, thank God Almighty.
The Comet originated and effected our Earth thus:
Stutz's Fairy Tales and Poems 