by Paulo Coelho
Methodical composition distracts me from the present condition of humanity. The certainty that everything has already been written annuls us, or renders us phantasmal. I know districts in which the young people prostrate themselves before books and like savages kiss their pages, though they cannot read a letter. Epidemics, heretical discords, pilgrimages that inevitably degenerate into brigandage have decimated the population. I believe I mentioned the suicides, which are more and more frequent every year. I am perhaps misled by old age and fear, but I suspect that the human species – the only species – teeters at the verge of extinction, yet that the Library – enlightened, solitary, infinite, perfectly unmoving, armed with precious volumes, pointless, incorruptible and secret – will endure.
I have just written the word ‘infinite’. I have not included that adjective out of mere rhetorical habit; I hereby state that it is not illogical to think that the world is infinite. Those who believe it to have limits hypothesize that in some remote place or places the corridors and staircases and hexagons may, inconceivably, end – which is absurd. And yet those who picture the world as unlimited forget that the number of possible books is not. I will be bold enough to suggest this solution to the ancient problem: The Library is unlimited but periodic. If an eternal traveller should journey in any direction, he would find after untold centuries that the same volumes are repeated in the same disorder – which, repeated, becomes order: the Order. My solitude is cheered by that elegant hope.*
Mar del Plata, 1941
Introduction
At last, Fire appears as the Element. The final one, the most dangerous, even if, as it was said before, the elemental fire is not the common fire, which is like an image, an approximation of the central and ‘true’ fire. There are, too, many kinds of fire. Some of them burn to ashes and destroy. Some others, subtler, give life and strength. The fire Moses saw in the burning bush is not the one of Hell. Fire, like blood, is hot, it brings light, and it is the sign of spirit and love, but a high kind of love. If the fire is not understood, or if its seeker is not of the same nature, everything can be burnt and destroyed. So it is not always possible to experience fully the presence of this great fire. Sometimes it is better just to feel it, or to see its reflection. Otherwise, the proud will be disappointed. As we can see, once again, the element is ambivalent. It gives as it takes, as you take or give. But what is always present is light. The essential, beautiful and everlasting light.
The dark fire of desire burns in Sacher-Masoch’s Venus in Furs, like a fire in the chimney. This fire, shared by different visions of love, illuminates ‘Madam Venus’ and opens a new space for desire and fantasy, but through a very complex process. Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein deals with another fire, the fire of hate. This novel is perhaps one of the more violent ones, because the creator and his creature hate each other beyond the limits of life and death. It goes deep into mankind’s desire for eternity, but a mock eternity that reveals all the evil sides of us. Unlike Dr Jekyll, Dr Frankenstein wants something he does not understand. And hence he is punished with his own destruction. The visions of the Desert Fathers move the frontier between madness and sanity. Often the spiritual visions are compared to a fire, a great fire of divine origin. Like the tongues of fire of the Pentecost, it is a strong current pouring down from Heaven to earth. And the aura of a saint reminds us of the process of (dangerous) imitation between man and God, a strange and blasphemous imitation that can be regarded also as a sacred one. Mercy could be the key… The hymn from the Dead Sea Scrolls talks about mercy, and mercy can be very difficult – sometimes even impossible – to give. But when it occurs, like unexpected rain in a desert land, it washes away all the injuries, insults and betrayals to allow a certain perfection to arise.
The Rig Veda goes far back, to the very root of our world and its mystery. The birth of the gods, like a mystery within a mystery, evokes the birth of light. Agni appears to be Fire itself, the personification of one of the greatest symbols of Vedic and Hindu cosmology, and the symbol of sacrifice, but a sacrifice that makes a bridge between men and gods. And here we are: with the Bhagavad Gita we reach a new dominion, that is to say the way a man can become a god; and if we understand that Arjuna and Krishna are both sides of the same unique Being, it is easier to know what all this means: divine fire can be like a hidden reality, and it is up to us to conquer and reveal it… Love, then, is like the great and dangerous fire, able to kill or to give life. Kahlil Gibran’s The Prophet tells us about that. Why fire and love? It is melted with blood, too. And the heart is the crucible of love, but there are so many different kinds of love. The one Gibran speaks of does not belong to us… Rumi’s poems are always enigmatic, following not one but several paths. The ‘light of God’ can be the lantern that guides you through the miseries of ego and earthly struggles, and Rumi’s wisdom enlightens you without the help of reason. Finally, this optimistic conception of love is reflected, in a magnified way, in Tagore’s poems. The evocation of Creation and the immensity of a burning sky end in an everlasting beginning, with the energy of a new day. It is the miracle of life rehearsed by the gods themselves for humans’ sake.
From the Rig Veda:
Hymns to Agni, God of the Sacrifice
I Pray to Agni
1 I pray to Agni, the household priest who is the god of the sacrifice, the one who chants and invokes and brings most treasure.
2 Agni earned the prayers of the ancient sages, and of those of the present, too; he will bring the gods here.
3 Through Agni one may win wealth, and growth from day to day, glorious and most abounding in heroic sons.
4 Agni, the sacrificial ritual that you encompass on all sides – only that one goes to the gods.
5 Agni, the priest with the sharp sight of a poet, the true and most brilliant, the god will come with the gods.
6 Whatever good you wish to do for the one who worships you, Agni, through you, O Angiras, that comes true.
7 To you, Agni, who shine upon darkness, we come day after day, bringing our thoughts and homage
8 to you, the king over sacrifices, the shining guardian of the Order, growing in your own house.
9 Be easy for us to reach, like a father to his son. Abide with us, Agni, for our happiness.
Agni and the Gods
1 Now get dressed in your robes, lord of powers and master of the sacrificial food, and offer this sacrifice for us.
2 Young Agni, take your place as our favourite priest with inspirations and shining speech.
3 The father sacrifices for his son, the comrade for his comrade, the favourite friend for his friend.
4 May Varua, Mitra and Aryaman, proud of their powers, sit upon our sacred grass, as upon Manu’s.
5 You who were the first to invoke, rejoice in our friendship and hear only these songs.
6 When we offer sacrifice to this god or that god, in the full line of order, it is to you alone that the oblation is offered.
7 Let him be a beloved lord of tribes for us, a favourite, kindly invoker; let us have a good fire and be beloved.
8 For when the gods have a good fire, they bring us what we wish for. Let us pray with a good fire.
9 So let praises flow back and forth between the two, between us who are mortals and you, the immortal.
10 Agni, young spawn of strength, with all the fires take pleasure in this sacrifice and in this speech.
The Birth of Agni
1 The young mother secretly keeps the boy tightly swathed and does not give him to the father. The people no longer see before them his altered face, hidden by the charioteer.
2 Who is the boy that you are carrying, young woman? The chief queen, not the stepmother, gave him birth, for the embryo grew for many autumns. I saw him born when his mother bore him.
3 I saw him with his golden teeth and pure colour, testing his weapons far from his field, and I gave him the ambrosia that sets one free. What can those who have no Indra, no hymns, do to me?
4 I s
aw him moving far away from his field, and his fine herd no longer shining brightly. They could not grasp him, for he had been born; the young women became grey with age.
5 Who are they who separate my young man from the cows? They have never had a cowherd, not even a stranger. Let those who have seized him set him free. The man of foresight should drive the cattle back to us.
6 The enemy powers have hidden among mortals the one who is the king of dwellings, himself the dwelling-place of men. Let the magic formulas of Atri set him free; let those who revile be themselves reviled.
7 When Śunaśepha was bound for a thousand, you set him free from the stake, for he sacrificed with fervour. In the same way, Agni, set us free from our bonds when you have settled down here, O wise priest of the oblation.
8 For when you grew angry you went away from me; the guardian of the laws told me this. Indra discovered you, for he knows; he taught me, and so I have come, Agni.
9 Agni shines forth with a high light; by his power he makes all things manifest. He overpowers the godless forces of evil magic; he sharpens his two horns to gore the demons.
10 Let Agni’s bellowings reach to heaven as piercing weapons to destroy the demons. His angry glare breaks forth in ecstasy of Soma. The obstacles of the godless cannot hold him back.
11 Inspired with poetry I have fashioned this hymn of praise for you whose very nature is power, as the skilled artist fashions a chariot. If you receive it with pleasure, Agni, let us win waters and sunlight with it.
12 ‘The bull with the powerful neck, increasing in size and strength, will drive together the possessions of the enemy without opposition.’ This is what the immortals said to Agni. Let him grant shelter to the man who spreads the sacred grass; let him grant shelter to the man who offers oblation.
The Child of the Waters (Apām Napāt)
1 Striving for the victory prize, I have set free my eloquence; let the god of rivers gladly accept my songs. Surely the child of the waters, urging on his swift horses, will adorn my songs, for he enjoys them.
2 We would sing to him this prayer well fashioned from the heart; surely he will recognize it. With his divine energy, the child of the waters has created all noble creatures.
3 Some flow together, while others flow toward the sea, but the rivers fill the same hollow cavern. The pure waters surrounded this pure, radiant child of the waters.
4 The young women, the waters, flow around the young god, making him shine and gazing solemnly upon him. With his clear, strong flames he shines riches upon us, wearing his garment of butter, blazing without fuel in the waters.
5 Three women, goddesses, wish to give food to the god so that he will not weaken. He has stretched forth in the waters; he sucks the new milk of those who have given birth for the first time.
6 The birth of the horse is here and in the sun. Guard our patrons from falling prey to malice or injury. When far away in fortresses of unbaked bricks, hatred and falsehoods shall not reach him.
7 In his own house he keeps the cow who yields good milk; he makes his vital force swell as he eats the nourishing food. Gathering strength in the waters, the child of the waters shines forth to give riches to his worshipper.
8 True and inexhaustible, he shines forth in the waters with pure divinity. Other creatures and plants, his branches, are reborn with their progeny.
9 Clothed in lightning, the upright child of the waters has climbed into the lap of the waters as they lie down. The golden-hued young women flow around him, bearing with them his supreme energy.
10 Golden is his form, like gold to look upon; and gold in colour is this child of the waters. Seated away from his golden womb, the givers of gold give him food.
11 His face and the lovely secret name of the child of the waters grow when the young women kindle him thus. Golden-hued butter is his food.
12 To him, the closest friend among many, we would offer worship with sacrifices, obeisance and oblations. I rub his back; I bring him shavings; I give him food; I praise him with verses.
13 Being a bull, he engendered that embryo in the females; being a child, he sucks them, and they lick him. The child of the waters, whose colour never fades, seems to enter the body of another here.
14 He shines for ever, with undarkened flames, remaining in this highest place. The young waters, bringing butter as food to their child, themselves enfold him with robes.
15 O Agni, I have given a good dwelling-place to the people; I have given a good hymn to the generous patron. All this is blessed, that the gods love. Let us speak great words as men of power in the sacrificial gathering.
The Gods Coax Agni out of the Waters
1 [A god:] ‘Great was that membrane, and firm, which enveloped you when you entered the waters. One god, O Agni, knower of creatures, saw all your various bodies.’
2 [Agni:] ‘Who saw me? Who among the gods perceived my various bodies? O Mitra and Varua, where are all the fuel-sticks of Agni that lead to the gods?’
3 [Varua:] ‘We searched for you in various places, O Agni, knower of creatures, when you had entered into the waters and the plants. It was Yama who discovered you with your many-coloured light which shines beyond the distance of ten days’ journey.’
4 [Agni:] ‘I fled because I feared the role of oblation-giver, so that the gods would not harness me to it, O Varua. My bodies entered various places; I, Agni, have ceased to consider this task.’
5 [Varua:] ‘Come here. Man, who loves the gods, wishes to sacrifice. When you have completed the ritual, Agni, you dwell in darkness. Make smooth the paths which lead to the gods; carry the offerings with a good heart.’
6 [Agni:] ‘The brothers of Agni long ago ran back and forth on this task like a chariot-horse upon a road. Fearing this, Varua, I went far away. I fled like a buffalo before the bowstring of a hunter.’
7 [The gods:] ‘We will make your life-span free of old age, O Agni, knower of creatures, so that you will not be harmed when you have been harnessed. Then you will carry the portion of the offering to the gods with a willing heart, O well-born one.’
8 [Agni:] ‘Give me alone the pre-sacrifices and the post-sacrifices, the nourishing part of the offering; and the clarified butter out of the waters and the Man out of the plants. And let the lifespan of Agni be long, O gods.’
9 [The gods:] ‘The pre-sacrifices and the post-sacrifices will be for you alone, the nourishing parts of the offering. This whole sacrifice will be for you, Agni; the four quarters of the sky will bow to you.’
Indra Lures Agni from Vtra
1 [Indra:] ‘Agni! Come to this sacrifice of ours, that has five roads, three layers, and seven threads. Be our oblation-bearer and go before us. For far too long you have lain in darkness.’
2 [Agni:] ‘Secretly going away from the non-god, being a god and seeing ahead I go to immortality. Unkindly I desert him who was kind to me, as I go from my own friends to a foreign tribe.’
3 [Varua:] ‘When I see the guest of the other branch, I measure out the many forms of the Law. I give a friendly warning to the Asura father: I am going from the place where there is no sacrifice to the portion that has the sacrifice.’
4 [Soma:] ‘I have spent many years within him. Now I choose Indra and desert the father. Agni, Soma, Varua – they fall away. The power of kingship has turned around; therefore I have come to help.’
5 [Indra:] ‘Varua, these Asuras have lost their magic powers, since you love me. O king who separates false from true, come and rule my kingdom.
6 ‘This was the sunlight, this the blessing, this the light and the broad middle realm of space. Come out, Soma, and let us two kill Vtra. With the oblation we sacrifice to you who are the oblation.’
7 The poet through his vision fixed his form in the sky; Varua let the waters flow out without using force. Like his wives, the shining rivers make him comfortable; they swirl his colour along their current.
8 They follow his supreme Indra-power; he dwells in those who rejoice in their own nature. Choo
sing him as all the people choose a king, they have deserted Vtra whom they loathe.
9 They say that the yoke-mate of those full of loathing is a swan who glides in friendship with the divine waters. The poets through their meditation have seen Indra dancing to the Anuubh.
The Mystery of Agni
1 How shall we with one accord give homage to the benevolent Agni Of-all-men? Great light, by his great and full growth he has propped up the sky as a buttress props a rampart.
2 Do not reproach the self-ruled god who gave this gift to me, for I am a simple mortal, while he is the clever immortal, the insightful, most manly and impetuous Agni Of-all-men.
