And now for something completely trivial. So many recent posts have dealt with weighty topics that I've decided to revive the tradition of posting piffle on weekends. What follows is one of my favorite literary anecdotes, one which has not yet found a home on the net.Although few recall him nowadays, writer Gustav Meyrink was (arguably) the Stephen King of his time and place. The time was the 1920s, the place was Germany, and the novel which made Meyrink famous was The Golem. Its success allowed the author to purchase a fine villa on the shore of Lake Starnberg.
Meyrink traveled in occult circles, experimenting with alchemy, the tarot, psi and yoga. Although he remained a lifelong yoga enthusiast, he soon became a quiet skeptic regarding anyone who claimed "special powers." Even so, he remained on friendly terms with just about every mystic-minded weirdo in Bavaria.
Perhaps the oddest of these oddballs was a "wandering prophet" named Hauser -- a large, bearded figure with wild eyes and unkempt clothing. One night, in the middle of the night, Hauser pounded on Meyrink's door. When the writer opened it, the prophet made a grand pronouncement:
"I AM!"
(I like to think that a flash of lightning accompanied that statement.)
"What?" said Meyrink.
"I...AM!"
"You are what?" asked Meyrink. "I can't let you come in until you finish the sentence."
A small pause. Then, Hauser thundered: "I AM...CHRIST!!"
Meyrink led the prophet to the edge of the lake and pointed to the water."Walk!" he commanded.
The prophet reconsidered his declaration. "I AM...." (long pause) "...hungry."
Meyrink nodded, then led Hauser into the house for a meal.
I'm not sure why I like that story so much. Perhaps I'm fond of it because, over the years, I've had to play straight man to quite a few "wandering prophets." Or perhaps the story stuck with me because it reminds us that our grand mystical visions are usually trumped by practicalities.
1 comment:
Is it possible you like the story because it serves as a reminder that the real people of wisdom tend to share a sort of Higher Pragmatism that easily trumps the flummery of self-anointed prophets and sages?
I'm reminded, for example, of Aesop's fable about the mole and his mother:
A Mole, a creature normally blind from birth, once said to his Mother, "I know I can see."
His Mother placed a few grains of strong-smelling frankincense in front of him and asked, "What is it?"
The young Mole said, "It is a pebble."
His Mother exclaimed, "My son, I am afraid you are not only blind, but you have lost your sense of smell as well."
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