The Rise of the Sorcerers: Prologue
Our civilization, like all civilizations, is a conspiracy.
Numerous minuscule divinities, whose power comes only from our consent not to discuss them, they avert our gaze of the fantastic face of reality.
The plot tends to hide us that there is another world in the world in which we live, and another man is the world.
Man, that we are.
The pact would have to be broken; it would be barbaric.
And first of all, be realistic.
That is to say, to start from the principle that the reality is unknown.
If we were to freely use the knowledge we have; If we were to establish between them unexpected relationships; if we accepted the facts without prejudice ancient or modern; If we were to behave, in short, among the products of knowledge with a new mentality, ignorant of the habits and anxious to understand, we would see every the fantastic emerges at the same time as reality.
In the end, this attitude is the attitude of science, which is not only the one that the university tradition of the nineteenth century, by relying on rationalism, he ended up imposing, but rather everything that intelligence can scrutinize, both outside and outside.
within ourselves, without disdaining the unusual, without to exclude what seems to escape the norms.
It is impossible to foresee exactly what knowledge will be in times to come, and whether it will not be based on concepts that we now disdain and whose importance of our descendants, as well as their hidden role in our persons and in the universe to which we then we will interrogate.
Minds are like parachutes:
they only work when they are open.
Our goal is to bring about an opening to the maximum, especially to address the fields of science where the conspiracy is most tenacious.
By doing so, we find ourselves situated in such a wonderful, ductile and extensive world, such as that of:
- the physicist
- the astronomer
- the mathematician
There's a continuity.
It's great.
Man, his past, his future, everything.
This also conceals an invisible complex, speaks of infinity, sings the music of the spheres.
Those who drown, get bored, or despair in the midst of so many sublime oddities and so many enigmas resplendent, they have an ignorant heart and an intelligence devoid of love.
Ah!
"The world is so beautiful," says one of Claudel's characters, "that there must be someone in it who is capable of not being able to do so - sleep!"
Of course, our way of doing things is not without dangers and inconveniences, compounded by our shortcomings.
Consider numerous risky hypotheses, we stir up a dust of cursed facts, we rummaged through a farrago of errors and dreams, to discover some new but shabby truths.
However, it sometimes happens that, starting from doubtful signals, they open Hitherto unsuspected and really useful addresses.
To our way of seeing, and even though we have worked with all the care and with all the seriousness of which we were capable, the essential thing lies in the desire for an enlarged vision, in the love of realities that demonstrate the commitment of man and the world to be fulfilled in all its fullness.
To paraphrase Baron de Gleichen, we can say:
The tendency to the marvelous, innate in all men; our particular fondness for the impossible; our contempt for what is already known; Our Respect for What Is Ignored:
Here are our mobiles.
We are modest men.
However, we believe we have the right to present this ill-conceived work as a "Manual of Embellishment" of life.
The gentle reader, in learning how to use this manual, at the same time, and even if he had previously lacked his natural joy, the importance of existence.
And also, its emotion, from the moment your curiosity.
And you will know that the exercise of curiosity transforms the life in a poetic adventure.
A friend of mine, maker of absolute, He practices his profession on a large estate in the south of France.
However, we believe we have the right to present this ill-conceived work as a "Manual of Embellishment" of life.
The gentle reader, in learning how to use this manual, at the same time, and even if he had previously lacked his natural joy, the importance of existence.
And also, its emotion, from the moment your curiosity.
And you will know that the exercise of curiosity transforms the life in a poetic adventure.
A friend of mine, maker of absolute, He practices his profession on a large estate in the south of France.
The absolute is the extremely concentrated essence of a flower, which goes into the elaboration of various perfumes.
My friend distills Jasmine absolute.
A good-natured artist and an artist, he invented, for its visitors, a park whose paths are carpeted with plants that one crushes as one walks, thus raising waves of a perfectly classified perfume.
Flower beds are spread out in the shade of the trees.
My friend distills Jasmine absolute.
A good-natured artist and an artist, he invented, for its visitors, a park whose paths are carpeted with plants that one crushes as one walks, thus raising waves of a perfectly classified perfume.
Flower beds are spread out in the shade of the trees.
In the resting places, there are glasses and buckets with bottles of champagne, the ice of which It is renovated by the gardeners.
We would like this Manual to be turn the intellectual life of his readers into a journey through of human times, past and to come, similar in some ways a walk through that park and evocative of a host who manufactures and sells.
We would like this Manual to be turn the intellectual life of his readers into a journey through of human times, past and to come, similar in some ways a walk through that park and evocative of a host who manufactures and sells.
Another friend of mine is a pediatrician.
Think that the toxicosis of the newly a number of births, often fatal, is actually a suicide, a psychophysiological inhibition caused by the panic of loneliness.
In effect, we lay the baby on his back, between boards or bars, under an empty roof.
He's barely felt the warmth in his chest and received the gaze of the mother, and we placed him in the Position of the Dead.
It is true that, at birth, he has detached himself from the mother.
But what has been detached must be resumed.
My amigo patented an inclined cradle, which eliminates insulation and makes that the child constantly feels the presence of the mother and the things in life.
It doesn't matter what this invention reproduces primitive traditions, if it can be avoided anxieties and, at the same time, deaths.
In the same way that this doctor tries to benefit children, we would like this manual to be help minds to get rid of the bars, the boards, the empty roof; to spare them the poison of separation, and to return them to the heat of the world.
It doesn't matter what this invention reproduces primitive traditions, if it can be avoided anxieties and, at the same time, deaths.
In the same way that this doctor tries to benefit children, we would like this manual to be help minds to get rid of the bars, the boards, the empty roof; to spare them the poison of separation, and to return them to the heat of the world.
A very ambitious purpose.
But powerful critical minds and they can forgive us without fear.
It barely threatens their terrain; It is nothing more than an ambition born of love.
Valery Yakovlevich Bryusov (Russian: Вале́рий Я́ковлевич Брю́сов, IPA: [vɐˈlʲerʲɪj ˈjakəvlʲɪvʲɪdʑ ˈbrʲusəf] ⓘ; 13 December [O.S. 1 December] 1873 – 9 October 1924) was a Russian poet, prose writer, dramatist, translator, critic and historian. He was one of the principal members of the Russian Symbolist movement.
The Russian poet Valery Bryusov, a contemporary of the October, witness to the end of one world and the beginning of another, back in 1920, he asked this question:
"The principles of cultures so different and so dispersed in the space such as those of the
Aegean Sea
Egypt
Babylon
Etruscans
India
Maya
Pacific
show similarities that cannot be explained only by assimilation or imitations.
That is why it would be necessary to search, in the depths of what we believe to be the oldest cultures, a unique influence to explain their remarkable analogies.
It would be necessary to seek, beyond the frontiers of antiquity, an X, a world of culture that we still don't know and that set in motion the engine that Know.
The Egyptians, the Babylonians, the Greeks, and the Romans; they were our teachers.
But who were the masters of our teachers?"
The discoveries accumulated in the last fifty years have Set back enormously in the past the history of men and civilizations, and that has further justified Bryusov's question.
This book does not answer this question, but it makes it clear that I express interest in it and point in several possible directions of research.
This book does not answer this question, but it makes it clear that I express interest in it and point in several possible directions of research.
It's an amateur job.
But we feel the need to undertaking it, in the hope that one day a group will be formed better equipped to pursue it.
That noble question has been, to this day, it has been badly located:
in the cabins of the specialists, or in asylums for the insane.
We have tried to rescue her from the madmen or liars who allege revelations and to wrest it from the contempt or the angry restlessness of the archaeologists.
Archaeology, recently observed a correspondent for the New York Herald Tribune, is more than a science, a vendetta.
It is, more than anything, about taking revenge on the discoverer who hasn't found anything on his own.
You have to dig, even if it's just frowned upon by the greats, by the theorists.
But at the same time, condition of not discovering, at the same time, some unaccepted idea about human history.
Moving paradise back in time is the same as moving places the furniture.
Traditionalists yearn for yesterday.
The Progressives.
They're counting on tomorrow.
But everyone agrees that our Ancestors, clothed in leaves and skins, beat stupidly the stones for millennia waiting for the spark to fly.
They also agree on the idea that all civilizations are Mortal.
On the other hand, no one dares to think that, in the course of Over millions of years, human intelligence and expertise were able to know other heydays.
We don't love freedom or infinity.
We cling to a narrow determinism and want the time of the human intelligence occupies only a tiny part of the time of creation.
We don't love freedom or infinity.
We cling to a narrow determinism and want the time of the human intelligence occupies only a tiny part of the time of creation.
If we are spiritualists, we consider man to be like an animal that received the gift of conceiving the infinite and the infinite.
Eternal—but for a very short time.
If we're materialistic, we think that man is a product of history..., but of a very recent history.
Nor is there any mention in the conventions of the idea that not all civilizations necessarily have to perish.
However, we know nothing about them.
We know too little to establish a law.
Eternal—but for a very short time.
If we're materialistic, we think that man is a product of history..., but of a very recent history.
Nor is there any mention in the conventions of the idea that not all civilizations necessarily have to perish.
However, we know nothing about them.
We know too little to establish a law.
We discovered some civilizations that they seem to have shone for millennia.
But we've never we allow the fair observation to be made those certain civilizations, which we call primitive, but which continue to exist today, they have all the appearances of the immortality.
But we've never we allow the fair observation to be made those certain civilizations, which we call primitive, but which continue to exist today, they have all the appearances of the immortality.
In short, if Humanity, in the course of ages, extinguished, he tried repeatedly to climb the steps that lead to a soaring immortal civilization, and slipped, and fell, why can't we be on the way to getting the climb, to build the civilization that will know immortality on Earth And in the heavens?
This optimistic question will bring a smile to many faces, as today it is fashionable to disdain, to buzz "catastrophism".
But, in First of all, fashion is what goes out of style.
And, secondly, in the end, it would be foolish to stop at such a petty inn, in the course of such a long and beautiful journey back in time.
This optimistic question will bring a smile to many faces, as today it is fashionable to disdain, to buzz "catastrophism".
But, in First of all, fashion is what goes out of style.
And, secondly, in the end, it would be foolish to stop at such a petty inn, in the course of such a long and beautiful journey back in time.
The subject of this book is not very original.
It has been used by many authors since the publication of The Return of the Sorcerers and Planet magazine, founded by us.
However, we believed we need to resume it in our own way, in order to cleanse our own terrain.
Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche[ii] (15 October 1844 – 25 August 1900) was a German classical scholar, philosopher, and critic of culture, who became one of the most influential of all modern thinkers. He began his career as a classical philologist before turning to philosophy. He became the youngest person to hold the Chair of Classical Philology at the University of Basel in Switzerland in 1869, at the age of 24, but resigned in 1879 due to health problems that plagued him most of his life; he completed much of his core writing in the following decade. In 1889, at age 44, he suffered a collapse and afterward a complete loss of his mental faculties, with paralysis and probably vascular dementia. He lived his remaining years in the care of his mother until her death in 1897, and then with his sister Elisabeth Förster-Nietzsche. Nietzsche died in 1900, after experiencing pneumonia and multiple strokes.
It is not easy to raise, as Nietzsche recommended,
"a barrier around the doctrine itself to prevent them from entering pigs."
He himself, from his grave, must have realized this.
It is also necessary to throw many buckets of water and sweep furiously.
That's what we're going to do over the course of these years.
Pages.
Sometimes, we can be a little annoying, so over-application.
Skip the heavy chapters without qualms, browse, sail as you please; the essence is in the spirit, not in the lyrics.
While we were writing this work, we discovered, not without a certain degree of satisfaction, the existence of yet another son of The Return of the Sorcerers.
It was a popular little book, but it was well documented published in 1968 by the official Moscow publishing house.
Its author, Alexander Gorbovsky, studied the hypothesis of civilizations advanced in the antediluvian ages.
Alexander Alfredovich Gorbovsky (January 14, 1930, Kiev, Ukrainian SSR, USSR - December 9, 2003, London, Great Britain) was a Soviet writer, historian, orientalist and Indologist, author of popular science and fiction books, fantasy stories. Candidate of Historical Sciences (1959), member of the Union of Writers of the USSR (1979). He was the father of the poetess Ekaterina Gorbovskaya.
Above all, we satisfied the prologue.
It had been written by a researcher Professor Fedorov, Ph.D. in historical sciences.
Oscillating between skepticism and seduction, Fedorov said:
"Poets and sceptics are equally indispensable to the research.
They form a necessary combination. Alexander Gorbovsky's book is important because it poses a problem essential part of the history of men.
If the author and those who If they think as he does, they are right, they will be able to explain their facts so far Unexplained.
This book is a noble undertaking.
The author has wanted to make available to a very wide audience a great and a generous idea, a new historical vision.
And he has succeeded.
Many readers will read this work with an interest bordering on the passion:
like me."
Our satisfaction was accompanied by a little disgust at the thought that, surely, there would not be a single French university student of any to support us in the same way.
True, it was an upset light, for we were at the moment when they were going to Inscriptions such as these appear on the walls of the Sorbonne:
"Professors, you want to make us old men!" and "Imagination to Power!"
Our "Handbook of the Beautification of Life" will consist of five volumes, if God will give us a little more time.
- The Eternal Man is an essay and a fantasy on the subject of vanished civilizations.
- The infinite man will deal with the superhuman condition.
- The Man on the Cross, the Risks and Opportunities of This civilization; of the bet on the odds.
- The committed man, from contact with different intelligences, In the heavens and down here.
- Manand God of the future will develop the idea that He is It is probably impossible to create a new myth, but that the advent of such a myth is indispensable.
For ten years now, we have been gathering documentation necessary for the composition of this Manual.
Paul-Émile Victor (born Paul Eugène Victor; 28 June 1907 – 7 March 1995) was a French ethnologist and explorer.
As far as this is concerned, first volume, and apart from hundreds of correspondents from all over the world. world to which we have expressed our gratitude, we give special thanks to Paul-Émile Victor, director of the French polar expeditions, which undertook, at our request, a study on the enigma of the Piri Reis maps, and authorized us to reproduce it here; to our friend and collaborator in Planet, Aimé Michel, who allowed us to use his article on the work of Leroi Gourhan and cave art, as well as several notes on science and engineers of antiquity, and Madame Freddy Bémont, assistant professor at the Faculty of Arts and Sciences Humana de Nanterre, which helped us particularly in the writing of the chapters on Numinor, the cities of Catal Huyuk and the Empire of Daedalus.
The prudent thing to do, even on a planetary scale, it is limiting one's own scope.
Our Poetry is the field.
But poetry - as well as science - He takes what he can from everywhere, in order to produce a good elder.
Science seeks the truth, or at least tries to, sincerely.
Poetry seeks the marvelous, or at least tries to do so with equal sincerity.
And perhaps there is some truth to the wonderful.
Now, if someone, abusing scientific authority – the which, as far as I know, is not intended to make man despair.
Says,
Says,
"Nothing wonderful can be found in this world,"
I'll refuse stubbornly to listen to him.
With my meager means, and with all my passion I will continue my search.
And if I don't find anything wonderful in this life, I will say, as I bid it farewell, that my soul was dull and my blind intelligence, not that there was nothing to be found.
L. P.
1970