(This is chapter 17 of the Nicholas Roerich's book
Shambhala.)
PRAISE TO
THE ENEMIES
And
so we shall discourse! You will impede and we shall build. You will delay the
structure and we shall temper our skill. You will aim all your arrows and we
shall uplift our shields. While you will compose subtle strategies, we shall
already occupy a new site. And where we shall have but one way, you will have
in persecution to try hundreds. Your trenches will but point out to us the
mountain path. And when we direct our movements, you will have to compile a
voluminous book of denials. But we shall be unimpeded by these compilations.
Truly,
it is not pleasant for you to enumerate all that is done against your
regulations. Your fingers will become numb as you count upon them all the cases
of forbiddances and denials. Yet at the end of all actions, the strength will
remain with us. Because we dispelled fear and acquired patience, and we can no
longer be disappointed. And we will smile at each of your grimaces, your
schemes and your silences. And this, not because we are specially anointed, but
because we do not love the dictionaries of negation. And we enter each battle
only on a constructive plan.
For
the hundredth time we smilingly say:
Thanks
to you, enemies and persecutors. You have taught us resourcefulness and
indefatigability. Thanks to you, we have found glorious mountains with
inexhaustible beds of ore. Thanks to your fury, the hoofs of our horses are
shod with pure silver, beyond the means of our persecutors. Thanks to you, our
tents glow with a blue light.
You
yearn to learn who we are in reality; where are our dwellings; who are our
fellow-voyagers. Because you have invented so many slanders about us, that you
yourselves are hopelessly entangled. Where is the limit?
At
the same time, several keen people insist that it is not only useful but highly
profitable for you to go our way, and that no one who has walked with us has
lost anything, but has rather received new possibilities.
Would you know where
is our dwelling place?
We
have many homes in many lands, and vigilant friends guard our dwellings. We
will not divulge their names, nor shall we probe into the habitation of your
friends. Nor shall we seek to convert them. Many are traveling with us and in
all corners of the world, upon the heights, flame friendly beacon fires. Around
them the benevolent traveler will always find a place. And verily, travelers
hasten to them. For besides the printed word and the post, communications are
dispatched by invisible forces, and with one sigh, joy, sorrow and help are
transported through the world fleeter than the wind. And like a fiery wall,
stand the battlements of friends.
This
is such a significant time. You need not hope to attract to your cause many
youths, for they also are the designated ones. In the most varied countries
they also are thinking of one thing—and they easily find the key to the
mystery. This mystery leads youth to the glorious beacon fire, and our youth
now is aware that the cruel everyday can be transformed into a festival of
labor, love and achievement. They have the valiant consciousness that something
glorious and radiant is ordained for them. And from that mighty fire, none can
repulse them.
We
have known those who after their hours of labor, come silently, asking us how
to live. And their hands, reddened from toil, nervously twitch over the whole
list of necessary, unuttered problems. To these hands one does not give a stone
instead of the bread of knowledge.
We
remember how in twilight they came, beseeching us not to depart. One could not
tell these young friends that it was not away from them that we were departing,
but for their sake we were going, in order to bring to them the treasure
casket.
And
now, you denying ones, you again ask how we can understand each other without
disputes. Thus—a friend contributes that which is most needed; a friend does
not waste time. Thus is the quarrel being transformed into a discussion. And
the most primitive sense of rhythm and measure is being transformed into the
discipline of freedom. And the comprehension of unity, which doubts not, but
searches for illumination, transforms all life. And then, there is still some
word which you can find only yourself, consciously unwavering and righteously
striving.
Often
you are angry and lose your temper, but you should be just the opposite. You
slander and condemn and through this you fill the air with boomerangs which
afterward snap your own forehead. “Poor Makar” complains at the cones which
painfully strike him, but he has strewn them himself.
You
do not object to becoming important and to surrounding yourself with
presumption, forgetting that self-importance is the surest sign of vulgarity.
Now you speak of science and yet new experiments appear suspicious to you.
Now
you laugh about seclusion and you yourself do not realize the most practical
usages of the laboratory of life. You yourself are seeking to escape as soon as
possible from an over-smoky room.
You
often hide yourself and express doubt, while doubt is the most insidious poison
invented by vicious beings. Now you doubt and betray and do not wish to learn
that both of these negations are the product of ignorance which is in no wise
akin to children—on the contrary, it grows with years into a very ugly garden.
Now
you are shocked if you are accused of prejudices, while your entire life is
crowded with them. And you will not concede one of your customary habits, which
are obscuring the most simple, practical understanding. You fear so much to
become ridiculous, that you provoke smiles. And you are shocked at the call: Be
new! be new! Not as on a stage, but in your own life.
You
value property as highly as if you were preparing to take it with you to the
grave. You do not like to hear the talk of death because it still exists for
you, and you have given to cemeteries a great portion of the world. And you
carefully outline your ritual of funeral processions, as though this procedure
was worthy of the greatest attention. And you eschew the word attainment
because for you it is linked with the cowl or with the red cross. According to
your ideas, it is a strange and improper matter to be occupied in life with
these ideas.
Nor
let us even mention your deep reverence for financial matters. It is not only a
necessity with you, but a cult is contained for you in the sham formulae of a
contemporary world. You dream to gild your rusty shield. But while you will
evoke the destroying Siva, we will turn toward creative Lakshmi.
Just
now Saturn is silent and the Star of the Mother of the World surrounds the
earth with its rays of future creations.
You
accuse us of nebulous inconsistencies, but we are occupied with the most
practical experiments. And how silently are our friends working, searching for
the means of new experiments for good.
In
irritation you named our discoveries “panther’s leaps.” You were ever ready to
judge us utterly without knowledge of what we are doing. Although you pretend
to condemn those who speak of that which they do not know, yet you yourself are
acting so. Where is that justice for which you have sewn such clumsy theatrical
togs for yourself? When, to your joy, you believe that we have disappeared, we
will be again approaching by a new path. However, let us not quarrel; we must
even praise you. Your activity is useful to us, and all your most cunning
schemes give us the possibility of continuing the most instructive of chess-games.
Kashmir,
1925.
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