Daniel Pevtichev

“Който умее да диша въздуха на моите писания знае, че това е силният въздух на безкрайните висини. За да живееш в него, трябва да си кален, иначе има опасност да се простудиш. Всичко наоколо е сковано в лед, самотата е чудовищна — но колко ясни са всички неща, окъпани в светлина и слънце! Как леко се диша! Просто се чувстваш у дома си! Философията — така, както преживях и разбрах — е свободно избраният живот сред високите самотни върхове и вечния лед, в търсене на всичко досега чуждо и съмнително, анатемосвано от морала. Едно задълбочено познание, до което достигнах след дългото ми странстване в забраненото, разкри за мен в различна светлина причините за всеобщото морализиране и идеализиране — светлина, за някои съвсем нежелана — видях скритата история на философите, съзрях великата им психология: колко истина може да издържи, да понесе духът! — това стана за мен същинският измерител на ценностите. Заблуждението (вярата в идеала) не е слепота, заблуждението е страхливост… Аз не се противопоставям на идеалите, но благоразумно ги докосвам само с ръкавици. Nittmur in Vetitum /Блестящ в забраненото/ — в тази формула се съдържа победата на моята философия, защото досега само истината беше забранена…”
― Friedrich Nietzsche

“Lose yourself,
Lose yourself in this love.
When you lose yourself in this love,
you will find everything.

Lose yourself,
Lose yourself.
Do not fear this loss,
For you will rise from the earth
and embrace the endless heavens.

Lose yourself,
Lose yourself.
Escape from this earthly form,
For this body is a chain
and you are its prisoner.
Smash through the prison wall
and walk outside with the kings and princes.

Lose yourself,
Lose yourself at the foot of the glorious King. When you lose yourself
before the King
you will become the King.

Lose yourself,
Lose yourself.
Escape from the black cloud
that surrounds you.
Then you will see your own light
as radiant as the full moon.

Now enter that silence.
This is the surest way
to lose yourself. . . .

What is your life about, anyway?—
Nothing but a struggle to be someone,
Nothing but a running from your own silence.”
― Rumi, Rumi: In the Arms of the Beloved

“My vocation in life is to wonder about at the nature of the universe. This leads me into philosophy, psychology, religion, and mysticism, not only as subjects to be discussed but also as things to be experienced, and thus I make an at least tacit claim to be a philosopher and a mystic. Some people, therefore, expect me to be their guru or messiah or exemplar, and are extremely disconcerted when they discover my “wayward spirit” or element of irreducible rascality, and say to their friends, “How could he possibly be a genuine mystic and be so addicted to nicotine and alcohol?” Or have occasional shudders of anxiety? Or be sexually interested in women? Or lack enthusiasm for physical exercise? Or have any need for money? Such people have in mind an idealized vision of the mystic as a person wholly free from fear and attachment, who sees within and without, and on all sides, only the translucent forms of a single divine energy which is everlasting love and delight, as which and from which he effortlessly radiates peace, charity, and joy. What an enviable situation! We, too, would like to be one of those, but as we start to meditate and look into ourselves we find mostly a quaking and palpitating mess of anxiety which lusts and loathes, needs love and attention, and lives in terror of death putting an end to its misery. So we despise that mess, and look for ways of controlling it and putting “how the true mystic feels” in its place, not realizing that this ambition is simply one of the lusts of the quaking mess, and that this, in turn, is a natural form of the universe like rain and frost, slugs and snails, flies and disease. When the “true mystic” sees flies and disease as translucent forms of the divine, that does not abolish them. I—making no hard-and-fast distinction between inner and outer experience—see my quaking mess as a form of the divine, and that doesn’t abolish it either. But at least I can live with it.”
― Alan W. Watts, In My Own Way: An Autobiography

“„Не вашият грях — вашата скромна невзискателност крещи към небесата, вашият ламтеж в самия ви грях крещи към небесата!
Къде е мълнията, която ще ви близне с огнения си език, къде е безумието, което трябва да се впръска във вените ви?
Ето, аз ви уча на свръхчовека: той е тази мълния, той е това безумие!”
― Фридрих Ницше, Thus Spoke Zarathustra