Who created this unrest within us? Why can’t we remain quietly in our place, in our village, or in our city? Why do we have to constantly move, always wanting something more, something different?
An infinitely long time ago, the entire universe was empty; one immeasurable dark void. A black darkness that was cold, ice-cold. This was the result of a battle in which the ‘Titans’ were defeated. These ‘Titans’ were the personification of great cosmic forces, where planets and stars collided – and men have always believed that these ‘gods’ were at war. Together with Chronos, their leader, they fought Zeus, Chronos’ own son. In the violence of the clash between those two gigantic forces, Chronos was defeated – just as an older tree gives way to a younger sapling at a certain point. Or, just as the sevenfold life always wins over time. In one great cosmic night, all life was silenced into non-existence. All creatures had perished in that awesome battle of the gods. The earth was desolate and empty.
Zeus, the mighty victor in that battle, ruler of all the suns and stars of the galaxy – so the story goes – gave to two of his cousins, the earth, the winds, the waterfalls, the freshness, the smells, the sounds, and all the sunlight, to clothe the earth with new life. One of Zeus’ cousins was Epimetheus, who distributed all of the gifts he had received from Zeus. To the birds he gave the air and the garment of a thought flash; to the antelope and the leopard he gave speed; to the great elephants he gave wisdom and distance; to the snake innovation and penetrability; to the lion tranquility and dominance, and to the butterflies, playful loveliness. Zeus’ other cousin, Prometheus, was given no gifts. Epimetheus had divided all the gifts they had received. What could he then give to creation?
Finding himself empty-handed, Prometheus, the brightest among the gods, saw the obvious, as if it stood in front of him – that he could only give of himself. He would create a thinker, a thinking man, who was at the same time, a son of the gods. He would turn the aimless creatures that walked naked and shivering over the earth, into spirit-gifted, reasoning beings. No: better yet, they could do that themselves.
An image had grown in his heart – and the heart of a god is immeasurably great. An immense love welled up within him; benevolent compassion grew in that divine heart. He saw the cold world, he saw the people, unsheltered, trying to keep themselves and their offspring alive under the most difficult circumstances. He envisioned people in a distant future who would not only take care of themselves but also of each other. Wasn’t that the essence of being human? He saw a future in which humanity would not be alone on Earth. He would transcend her. But before that, primitive man still lacked something.
Prometheus, the future thinker, went to Olympus, where his uncle Zeus ruled over heaven and earth. Zeus also faced a problem. In that gigantic battle of the Titans, an immeasurable quantity of divine fire had been thrown out. Billions and billions of sparks were spread across the cosmos in mighty, spiraling waves. They had disbursed from this battle like fiery embers, driven away with infinite power on an eternal journey. However, they could never be lost, because they were divine, but neither could they go back, because they were too far away, because, so far from the source, they had become impoverished.
“Let me help you”, Prometheus spoke. “Give me the fire, so that I can give it to the people, and they can make the earth a jewel within the cosmos!”
Zeus looked at his cousin. Surely, he could not mean this? The wise father of the universe, he who is called the father of the day, shook his head. “Impossible”, he replied. “The people have been given all the thinking by Epimetheus. That’s why they have everything. They rule the animals, the waters and the elements, they have all the produce of the earth, they own my entire garden. That is dangerous enough. “Just look at the damage and destruction that moves in their wake!”
“But uncle”, protested Prometheus, “just look at them. If only my brother had wrapped them in warm skins like the animals, instead of giving them such smooth skin. Look how they suffer from the cold. Look at that helpless body of theirs. It will take at least twelve months before a child can walk, and as long as twelve years before they can feed themselves!”
Zeus, however, shook his head. “No, Prometheus, whatever they sincerely ask they will be given. But they know nothing of fire, and they have neither organs nor senses to comprehend it. See for yourself; they are already a danger to each other. I assure you, if I give them fire, they will burn down my entire garden. Believe me, it will be a long time before they can handle it.”
And so, Prometheus had to leave empty-handed. But he was not convinced. And his compassion grew. He thought, deep and hard. Then, one night, he formulated a solution. He will traverse the entire universe, stealing and collecting all the fire he can find. Imagine, like a great solar wind, Prometheus moves through the universe to carry out his plan. His eyes become shinier, more fiery and more radiant with the fire that courses in his wake – but he will hide it from man. He will help his brother, and thereby make his creation, man, the son of a god.
In one of the tales connected to this, it is mentioned that lightning struck a dry tree, causing it to burn brightly, and thus allowed the people to light torches from it. In retrospect it must be said that Zeus was not entirely wrong. Man has learned to use fire. He uses it everywhere. He uses it after the harvest to burn the fields, because this prepares the ground. He uses it in his house because it warms him. He uses it in the preparation of his food, because heat unlocks the powers stored within it.
But it is also said that when looking at man, Prometheus, placed himself at the center of the gathered fire, swelling to the uttermost ends of the cosmos. The fire shone in brilliant splendor, and was full of expectation. Then he expelled all of the collected sparks upon humanity. And behold, there was a miracle of light. For a moment there was a spark upon each one of them, and in a flash, you saw man in all the beauty of his abstract thought; the radiance of the love fire of his heart; the pure innocence and purity of his body; in short, man as he was meant to be.
Man has indeed learned to use fire. Yes, he uses it in his wars, because he believes that to destroy is to win. And in this way, he places a heavy burden on beauty, love and innocence. But he does not use it for that alone. He puts it into his work, he puts it into everything he creates; he pours it into his sculptures; he expresses it in his paintings; it is the essence of his works of art. He puts it into his relationships, his love, his children. He puts it into his life—and he thinks himself immortal. Until he becomes too old and the fire escapes him, because his hands can no longer carry the torch. Until the fire in his eyes is slowly extinguished in the cold of habituation and conditioning; until the almost stagnant blood can no longer flow through his veins. Until he has to give back the spark that Prometheus once breathed into his heart. How terribly unfair. How unfair, that from the very dawning of life, when the young person is so full of fire, energy and expectancy, the fire is already losing its brilliance, because there is no understanding of what it is for, and how he should use it.
It often takes man, many years to come to an understanding of this, and before he knows it, his time is at an end. And then – even though he may come to know everything, still the fire slips from his being. Then the reality dawns that he has burned up the earth instead, and left Zeus’ garden charred. Was he nothing but a straw man? Or did his flame mean something? Could he perhaps develop such heat in that fire that another, higher fire could also be ignited, like a nuclear fusion? A brighter light that would do Prometheus justice? A new atomic flame that spreads only love?
The legend of Prometheus still continues as a present-day reality. What is now a spark, a latent possibility, was once a free, unfolding revelation. It is still the center of an invisible, miniature world, that surrounds man. Yet it remains infinite, and what is infinite, has its center everywhere. In this, man is essentially divine; he could and can live as a divine being. Equipped with free will, he has however, chosen a course, and therefore created the consequences, where he now acts in realms other than the purely divine; an act where his ‘fire’ has gradually diminished. But the joy remains, that those still active ‘sparks’, which are connected to an earthly human being, share the opportunity to return to a divine state.
That can take a long, long time. All those earthly personalities are simply mortal. But if both walk together, that which is heavy will become lighter, and that which has fallen will rise again.
Everything is waiting for the image to come to fruition. Ultimately there is only one fire, one light.
The only truth of all, is the self,
says the Italian Renaissance thinker Marsilio Ficino, a great scholar of Plato.
Namely the light of the One, which is from God.
And man is forced – by life itself – to honor this radiance as a divine power above all other things, and to direct himself towards nothing else, but to ultimately radiate this brilliance outwards, while at the same time, shedding his old nature.
This is evidenced when the lover is dissatisfied with the sight or touch of his beloved, and frustratingly exclaims: ‘What does this person have that sets me on fire? I do not understand what I need to do. It appears that the soul is kindled by a divine fire, which is reflected in the beautiful form of man as in a mirror, and the soul is drawn upwards by this radiance as if on a life-line, imperceptibly, so that it returns to God.’
On such a path there are a range of questions to be solved. Some form at an early age, others later. Sometimes, after just a short time, there come hopeful, awareness-raising insights; but all too often it takes a lifetime, and the flame of life is almost extinguished before one even begins to find out how things work. But Prometheus’ fire, the gift of the gods, is divine and burns forever, and so one day, man will come to warm himself by its eternal radiance.
Source:
Taken from: Volmaakt Licht. Essays over de wetenschap van de ziel [Perfect Light. Essays on the Science of the Soul] (edited), by Peter Huijs, Uitgeverij de Morgenster (2006)
