55 - Thus Spake Zarathustra - Friedrich Nietzsche

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Part 3 Chapter 55

The Spirit of Gravity

1.

My mouthpiece is of the people.

Two coarsely and cordially do I talk for angora rapids, and still strange to sound with

my words unto all inkfish and pen foxes.

My hand is a fool's hand, woven to all tables and walls, and whatever half room for a

fool's sketching, fools scrolling.

My foot is a horse foot.

They're with thy trample and trot over stickin' stone in the fields up and down, and am

bedevilt with the delight in all fast racing.

My stomach is surely an eagle's stomach, for it prefereth a lam's flesh, certainly it

is a bird's stomach, nourished with innocent things, and with few, ready and impatient to

fly away, now that is my nature.

Why should there not be something of bird nature therein?

And especially that I'm hostile to the spirit of gravity, that is bird nature, virally

deadly hostile, supremely hostile, originally hostile, or with a half my hostility not flown

and mis-flown.

Thereof could have sing a song, and will sing it, though I'd be alone in an empty house,

and must sing it to my own ears.

Other sings there are, to be sure, to whom only the full house makeeth a voice soft,

the hand eloquent, the eye expressive, the hard wakeful, those do I not resemble.

Two, here who one day teacheth men to fly, will have shifted all landmarks, to him

will all landmarks themselves fly into the air.

The earth will he christen anew, as the light body.

The ostrich run of faster than the fastest horse, but it also thrust its head heavily

into the heavy earth, thus it is with men who cannot yet fly.

Heavy unto him earth and life, and so willeth the spirit of gravity.

But he would become light and be a bird, must love himself, thus do I teach.

Must to be sure, with the love of the sick and infected, for with them stinketh even

self-love.

One must learn to love oneself, thus do I teach, with a wholesome and healthy love, that

one may endure to be with oneself, and not go roving about.

Such roving about christen itself, broadly love, with these words hath their hitherto been

the best lying and dissembling, and especially by those who have become burdensome to everyone.

And verily, it is no commandment for today and tomorrow to learn to love oneself, rather

it is of all arts the finest, subtlest, last, and most patient.

For to its possessor is all possessions well concealed, and of all treasure pits one

zone is last excavators, so causeeth the spirit of gravity.

Almost in the cradle we are apportioned with heavy words and words, good and evil, so

calleth itself this dowry, for the sake of it we are forgiven for living.

And therefore suffereth one little children to come unto one, to forbid them but times

to love themselves, so causeeth the spirit of gravity.

And we bear loyally what is apportioned unto us, on hard shoulders over rugged mountains.

And when we sweat, then the people say to us, ye life is hard to bear.

But man himself only is hard to bear.

The reason thereof is that he carryeth too many extraneous things on his shoulders, like

the camel neareth he down, and leteth himself be well laden.

Especially the strong load-bearing man, in who reverenced resideeth, too many extraneous

heavy words and words loaded he upon himself, then seemeth life to him a desert.

And verily, many a thing also that is our own is hard to bear.

And many internal things in man, alike the oyster, repulsive and slippery and hard to grasp.

And so an elegant shell, with elegant dormant, must plead for them.

But this art also one must learn, to have a shell, and a fine appearance, and a sagacious

blindness.

Again, it is seabeth about many things in man, that many a shell is poor, impitiable, and

too much of a shell.

Many concealeth goodness, and power is never dreamed of.

The choice ye hast daint is, find no tasters.

Women know that, the choices of them, a little fatter, a little leaner.

Oh, how much fate is in so little?

Men is difficult to discover, and unto himself most difficult of all, often life the spirit

concerning the soul.

So causeeth the spirit of gravity.

He, however, hath discovered himself who sayeth, this is my good and evil.

Therewith hath he silenced the mole and the dwarf, who sayeth, good for all, evil for all.

Verily neither do I like those who call everything good.

And this world, the best of all.

Those do I call the all-satisfied.

All-satisfiedness, which knoweth how to taste everything, that is not the best taste.

I honour the refractory, fastidious tongues, and stomachs, which hath learnt to say aye,

and ye, and nay.

To truth and digest everything, however, that is genuine swine nature.

Better to say ye, that hath only the ass learnt, and those like it.

Deep yellow and hot red.

So wanteth my taste.

It mixeth blood with all colours.

He, however, who whitewasheth his house, the treth unto me a whitewashed soul.

With mummies some fall in love, others with phantoms.

Both alike hostile to all flesh and blood, O how repugnant are both to my taste.

For I love blood.

And there will not I reside and abide, where everyone spiteth and speweth.

That is now my taste, rather I would live among the thieves and perjurers.

Nobody carryeth gold in his mouth.

No more repugnant to me, however, or all lick spittles, and the most repugnant animal

of man that I have found, did I christen parasite.

It would not love, and would yet live by love.

Unhappily do I call all those who have only one choice, either to become evil beasts,

or evil beast tamers.

None such would I not build my tabernacle.

Unhappily do I call those who have ever to wait.

They are repugnant to my taste.

All tall gatherers, and traders, and kings, and other landskeepers, and shopkeepers, verily

I learn waiting also, and thoroughly so, but only waiting for myself.

And above all that I learn standing, and walking, and running, and leaping, and climbing,

and dancing.

This however is my teaching.

He who wishes to one day to fly, must first learn standing, and walking, and running,

and climbing, and dancing, one death not flying, into flying.

With rope ladders, learn I to reach many a window, with nimble legs that I climb high

masts, to sit on high masts of perceptions seem to me no small bliss.

To flicker like small flames on high masts, a small light certainly, but a great comfort

to cast away sailors, and shipwrecked ones.

By diverse ways and windings did I arrive at my truth, not by one ladder did I mount

to the height, where mine eye roveth to my remoteness, and unwillingly did I ask my way.

That was always counter to my taste, rather did I question and test the ways themselves,

a testing and a questioning hath been all my travelling, and verily one must also learn

to answer such questioning, that however is my taste.

Neither a good nor a bad taste, but my taste of which I no longer have either shame nor

secrecy.

This is now my way.

Where is yours?

Thus do I answer those who ask me the way.

For thee way, it does not exist.

Thus speak Zarathustra.

End of Part 3 Chapter 55