THE CYCLE OF THE SOUL
Part I
The Material Life

Jozef Rulof

World Wide Web version
© 2014 'De Eeuw van Christus'

MY childhood on earth should have been a paradise. My parents loved me dearly and as their only child and heir I received excellent care. Upon coming of age I would have to take charge of their estate, consisting of farms, woodlands and other holdings. These possessions constituted a very large fortune.

My parents were convinced that I, Lantos Dumonché, would represent them, as would become a ruler, with dignity in the highest circles of society, for it was God’s will. As the influence of our family line went back many centuries; our family was born on earth to rule and to lead. I still can hear my mother and father saying these words, even though that was nearly nine hundred years ago. Their God desired that I, Lantos, should behave like my illustrious ancestors. I should rule and preserve our noble family from dying out. Many eyes, including those of God, were watching me. My parents lived only for me, and for the time this would come to pass, it would mean the ultimate in happiness for them that God could grant man on earth. They were grateful to Him for everything, a new generation meant to them that God loved and favoured them. Many prayers were sent up and to this end they had befriended many dignitaries of the church. I was their only child and heir and thus it should and would happen; however, fate or an other power decided differently, so that my youth did not become a paradise.

I had reached the age of twelve and still remained oblivious to the wealth surrounding me; on the contrary I felt like other children who had never known or possessed any wealth.

A few more years and that great happiness would become a reality for my parents; for that they lived and only for that. Their happiness could not be clouded by illness or other sufferings, since every kind of material help was available to them. They were convinced that their happiness was indestructible.

Faith in their God was strong, they loved Him and felt they were obeying His will. Everything they did they considered a task assigned to them by God.

A belief that was strengthened by the thinking of the clergy at that time. A son was given them and to them a son meant the continuation of their family.

It was written in a centuries-old decree that he who bore the name of Lantos Dumonché was born to rule. When the successor came of age the present governor gradually withdrew, and the new ruler was taking over control. The former governor would then start a quiet but well-planned life and enjoy the benefits of his possessions.

A wife was being selected for me already when I was twelve years old. We met from time to time unaware of our parents’ arrangement. We played together, had fun and would get to know each other with perhaps even falling in love. In any case it was an established fact for my parents and her’s that we were to be married. We would be informed of their plans when we were fifteen years old; our acceptance was a foregone conclusion, rejection or a will of our own was out of the question.

The task my parents had been given, I did not understand. Whenever my mother spoke to me about it her words slid by me and left no impression. I was never left alone and always surrounded by men and women, who had to take care of me. My favourite pastime was playing outside, for nature attracted me and made me feel alive and happy.

On the many feasts my parents gave I was introduced to everyone. Everybody had to get to know me and that too passed me by without leaving an impression. I did not realize why all the fuss, why all the parties and feasts were given. Much earthly gold were squandered on them, while the poor received nothing. Hundreds of children were invited to honour my birthday. My future wife was also among the guests and she was favourite among them. However, the one I loved was not admitted; she was the little daughter of the gardener, my friend Marianne, whom I met in the woods from time to time. I liked her very much, but my mother thought it ridiculous and forbade it.

On such an afternoon I felt an aversion for all those rich children. The feeling was so strong, that it took me by surprise and reflected on my face. Earlier than usual the feasting ended, the children were sent home and I was put to bed. It was thought that I was ill. The best learned men of that time were called in. They examined me, but found nothing wrong. Overly fatigued, was their diagnosis and thus I had to spend a few days in bed.

I myself was well aware that I was neither tired nor ill. I found the whole thing very strange but did not discuss it with anybody, since I instinctively did not trust anyone. I was very reticent by nature and thought a lot about these things on my own and then tried to work them out. I disliked all those children and my mother, who refused my friend to my party, even more. I also knew that neither Marianne’s parents nor mine were aware that we saw each other in the woods. They would have forbidden it, which would have kept us apart. Because I knew this I hide my inner feelings and already as a child the aversion toward this life with its wealth and the feasts of my parents began to grow in me. The more they spoiled me the more taciturn I became and the more my aversion increased for their parties and birthdays.

I did not possess exceptional intellect and was not at all an exceptional child. My powers were but average. It soon became clear that I was not like the others of our lineage who had carried the name of Lantos.

I found it impossible to study for I could not retain what I had learned. Where art or history were concerned though I had to be told only once, of that I forgot nothing. These had all my interest, especially art. All the other things I needed to learn had to be repeated many times over, until finally they realized that I was not suited for anything and then the teachers were changed. But these too quickly found that I was either retarded or ill and not able to learn, what was necessary for my upbringing. To them I was a hopeless case and one teacher followed after another. Only I remained and did not change.

My nursery resembled a museum, a collection place for art products. Not according to my mother, who wondered where I got such trashy feelings. Such feelings did not belong in our family and large scale clean-ups were held, but other baubles would take their places and the nursery remained a museum. It became impossible for me to put my objects on display, but when I was alone – which, alas, was not often – I took out my collection of figurines and statues and appraised the value of each one. To the great annoyance of my parents my sense for art was highly developed; again they consulted the learned men to have them find a way to rid me of these very absurd art feelings. Their efforts to guide me to other subjects proved futile. My interest in art remained, art was my love and I applied myself whole-heartedly to it. This was the only rift, the only trouble I caused my parents in my childhood. In many other things I was a sweet child, obedient but too soft to their liking. They began to suspect that I did not meet the requirements that would make me as good a ruler as they were expecting.

Where art was concerned I could ask hundreds of questions, and all my questions were – when I earesdropped to what the learned men were saying about me – very deep with human knowledge, something that surprised them very much. Many times they examined me and prescribed me physical exercises, however, my love for art remained. Indeed, my sense of art developed even more every day, but I took care to hide it, for as young as I was, I knew that these feelings had nothing to do with my body. Their analysis I could not understand and I knew for certain that neither the scholars nor my parents understood me, so that in this sense I remained an enigma to them. It was accepted because it was thought that I was frail and eventually it was attributed to strain. The busy life, so the learned men said, proved too strenuous for me; slowly but surely these feelings of art would fade into the background. I should be humoured a little, which my parents did, for apparently there was nothing else they could do.

Therefore they left me to myself and I spent nearly all of my time in nature. I now enjoyed more freedom in all my doings, and that was just what I wanted. For a few months I would have a holiday without studying; my nurse would teach me part-time. To all of them I now was a child in poor health and that this frightened my parents is understandable. Something new had slipped into their age-old beliefs that caused their trust and faith in this earthly happiness to falter. Their family had always been blessed with robust health, therefore life on earth could be considered a paradise to them. But I, their only heir, was without a doubt delicate, yet I was a normal child. From where, however, did these feelings for art come? I heard them say these very words.

Why I was hiding my true character I did not know. It did not occur to me that I was doing wrong but, as I mentioned before, I had an aversion to feasting and to all those wealthy children.

Every day my mother came to visit me in the woods. She questioned me how I felt and I answered her according to the mood I was in. If I was happy I would reassure her, but sometimes it was as if a different power forced me to frighten her and that spoiled her life; in that case she heard a softly whispered ‘yes’ from which she concluded that I was not yet as she would wish me to be. I had no idea who or what put me up to it, but I very clearly felt a force come up within me. It worked faster than my own thoughts, it was already spoken before I was aware of it. When I started to think about it I was often sorry that I had answered her that way. It came on suddenly and irresistibly, however, I did not think about it long, I was too young for that. Still I realized that it spelled freedom for me. Together with these feelings others, which I had never known before, came too.

I was incessantly occupied with shaping figures out of clay from soil that I found in the woods, then squeezed until it stuck together. This behaviour surprised my nurse, who forbade me, because it made me very dirty. But I could not stop; over and over again she had to tell me not to do it any more, without success; in this I remained incorrigible. This compulsion grew with every figure my hands sculpted, they assumed shapes and came to life. It went of itself, I did not have to think about it. I asked my nurse not to talk about it to anyone, for my parents would forbid it, and in her love for me she complied – for which I was and still am very thankful – and I could carry on with my modelling to my heart’s content. I loved her very much, she was kind to me and we understood each other completely. Modelling was on my mind day and night, nothing else interested me.

My products did not last very long, they soon fell apart, but I had the satisfaction that they once had lived. However, I could not rest easy until I could find the means to keep them from crumbling. And I found those means. I mixed earth with an other kind that I dug from under the water in the pond. This mixture I kneaded like dough till dry and this gave me a cohesive substance ready for modelling. The statues I made I buried under the sand. I had already various kinds.

Suddenly an idea struck me, I was going to make a God. To me that ought to be a large figure, robust and strong. Of His power, however, I still felt nothing. Everyone talked about Him. The word God lay on everybody’s lips. Daily people were heard to speak of Him. And with devotion I set to work. I modelled Him full length.

When I was ready I showed my latest product to my nurse and asked her: ‘Who do you think this is?’

‘A gentleman’, she said.

‘A gentleman?’ I repeated after her and smiled because she did not know.

She understood my smile and asked: ‘Who is it, Lantos?’

‘God’, I told her. ‘This is God, my God. Is yours a different one?’

She apparently was shocked and remained staring at me.

‘Did you say God?’

‘Yes’, I answered, ‘who else could it be? Is God different from this figure; isn’t His likeness clear enough? Don’t you recognize Him?’

In rapid succession I fired these questions at her, she, however, continued to stare at me and said nothing.

‘Does it surprise you?’ I asked her.

I was disappointed and she felt it, for she said: ‘But child, what makes you think that? Where do you get that idea!’ Next she mumbled something that sounded like: ‘And they call him not normal, weak or ill!’

I understood what she meant, but did not pursue the subject, waiting for another answer, but she spoke no more.

So I asked: ‘Will you please not tell about this either?’

She nodded at me and remained staring in the distance. I put my arm around her shoulders and kissed both her cheeks, as token of comprehension and understanding.

There were tears on her cheeks and so I asked: ‘Do you cry because I have hurt you? Should I not have made this statue?’

‘Lantos, my dear boy, how can you think so?’

I accepted this as a sign of admiration and felt flattered. How proud I was of my statue. The grown-ups all had their God and now I had mine.

‘Do you know’, I said in answer to her last words, ‘that I love you more than my parents?’

Surprised she glanced at me. Inwardly moved she took both my hands into hers and looked for a long time deep into my eyes.

‘Marianne too’, I added, ‘I love her very much also, but all the others I don’t.’

Had I been a little older, I would have known what went through her little old head; now, however, it all slipped by and I was already thinking of other things.

‘Now I am going to make a statue of Marianne’, I said and freeing myself of her embrace I went right to work. Whenever I was busy like that, I knew beforehand what I had to do; the thoughts came automatically to my mind. When my thinking slowed down I knew that I would not succeed in my efforts any longer. It happened in exactly the same way as when my mother wanted to know something about my health. The statue of Marianne was soon finished and I showed it to her. I saw her tremble, but I did not understand and only waited for her approval which I valued much.

‘Lantos’, she said and looked at me with astonishment, ‘it is Marianne!’

And to herself she added involuntarily: ‘It’s her very image.’ However, I caught the words and they made me very happy.

I went on: ‘Then my God is real too, isn’t He?’

She knew that no one had taught me this art and that my parents would not have allowed it, for it did not fit in with our social standing, but yet she said: ‘Who has taught you that?’

‘Nobody’, I said, ‘I just can do it.’

I could not have given her a clearer answer, but I felt that the words were not spoken by me. It happened outside of myself, but I could not explain it and to me it seemed nothing unusual.

Marianne found a place with all the other statues of my collection. Her too I buried under the sand; nobody was allowed to know. I wanted to make Marianne happy when she would come to visit me in the forest. This day was a splendid day for me.

A few days passed and the learned who examined me, agreed that I was improving. My parents were very happy, but I knew that my free and easy times would soon belong to the past and that frightened me. In these hours of fear I talked of my troubles to my God. I took the statue from its hiding place and put it on a rise in the ground, so that I could talk to it. This was only possible when I was alone. I did not dare entrust the secret to anybody, not even to my nurse.

I asked my God if I was ill and many more childlike questions. Then again I was myself and had to think and exert myself in order to express myself clearly. But that little game did not satisfy me for long. Sometimes I lay on my back for hours, peering at the sky and picking out shapes I saw in the clouds. Some of them I tried to copy, but it did not work out. I made clouds and a sun, let him shine and fastened him to a tree. I felt the warmth of my home-made sun pervade me and told it to my nurse. She had to laugh at it and it made me feel good, for I was open to kindness.

One afternoon Marianne came to visit me. She had escaped from her parents’ home and silently stolen away to me. I asked her to sing something, for she possessed a lovely voice that I loved without exactly knowing why.

I said to her: ‘Come, sing something, I have a surprise for you. If you don’t sing you shall not have it.’

‘What have you got?’ she asked, her curiosity aroused.

‘First a song’, I said.

And Marianne sang; it was a melody that was well-known in the neighbourhood. I admired her and at the time envied her this beautiful gift in the way a child can feel envious. She sang as if her life depended on it.

As soon as she was finished she said: ‘And now the surprise!’

‘Come’, I said, ‘come with me.’

I took her statue from under the sand and moss. I had wrapped it in leaves, afraid that it would break.

‘Go, and sit down there and see what this is!’

Marianne recognized herself, mostly because of her blond curls. I had woven them together with crinkling twigs and leaves, over which I had smeared the clay; and it held, even though it was quite imperfect. She was very happy and pleased with it.

‘Who has taught you to do that?’ she asked.

‘Nobody’, I answered. ‘The statue is yours, but it must remain here with all the other statues.’

She agreed and we named it our art-gallery. But how did I get this sense for art, the knowledge, nobody had ever taught me?

I am recounting this quite explicitly, for it is my intention to show you how true my feelings as a child were where my hobbies were concerned, in this case my love of art. I shall return to this later, when the time comes.

We played together and had much fun, so that the day passed quickly and I already longed for the next one.

That night there was a terrible rainstorm. When I returned to my favourite place in the forest the next morning I spotted right away that my sun had rained away. He was shattered and nothing more than a yellow blot criss-crossed by small rivulets. On the ground and along the tree trunk clung some yellowish mud. That had once been my sun on which I had warmed myself. That night my happiness was destroyed. I went and got my God out of His hiding place and He too had softened and fell apart. My God had died and I told it to my nurse, who did not reply, but threw me a searching look and followed all my actions.

I felt it, but asked: ‘Shall I make a statue of you?’

She thought a long time about my question and finally said: ‘Yes, if you can.’

She did not have to tell me twice and away I flew to collect the necessary materials. I soon returned and began kneading the earth into a tight mass.

She watched me for a while and asked: ‘What are you doing now?’

‘Killing it’, I said.

‘Killing it?’

‘Yes’, I answered, ‘otherwise it will fall apart.’

I felt that this again was not my own thinking, these thoughts were quicker than mine. However, I went on and had already begun sculpting her statue. There was no need for me to look at her at all. The statue grew in rapid tempo, a push here and a pinch there, it all came from my inner being, as I clearly felt. Only my hands were doing the kneading and modelling.

After a while I asked her permission to leave for a short time, otherwise I would not get it ready.

That surprised her very much, but I went. A short while later I returned and showed her the finished product.

At that moment she called out: ‘Lantos, Lantos, how do you manage to do all this, I must tell this to your parents.’

As soon as she said this an uneasy feeling came over me. My chest felt so tight that I could hardly breathe. I thought I was going to faint, but the next instant it disappeared and I felt as usual. It all happened in a split second. I looked at her and though I was young and only a child, I cursed the moment I had made that statue. Danger threatened and I knew the cause, but I could not find the explanation.

‘Aren’t you feeling well?’ she asked softly and tenderly.

‘No’, my answer came curt and severe, ‘I feel all right.’

It was the first time that I had spoken like a Dumonché and it frightened her. The wonderful relationship we had reached was gone however, because I did not trust her in anything any more. In feelings I withdrew from her and nothing could reach me. I did not understand why, I did not understand it at all, but I felt what I wanted, for it resided deep down in me.

She had spoken about it with my parents, and I understood that she kept out the ‘why’. She had only told her that I had shown her servere and cold her place. How did my parents react to this? They considered that it had been the proper way for me to behave, for they glimpsed the true character of their family in me and they were overjoyed. And with that, the incident was over and forgotten, but I had changed. From that moment on I ignored all her good intentions. I remained afraid of something, but of what?

I longed for Marianne, she was now the only one I still trusted and to whom I could show what I truly felt. And my love for her grew.

The figurine of my nurse did not receive a place with the others, I destroyed it. When she questioned me, I evaded answering. Yet as time went by we became closer again, for she continued to give me all her love. I finally gave in, whereupon the tears flowed down her cheeks and she hugged me.

‘My boy’, she cried, ‘how can you be so angry?’

This showed me that she did not comprehend my true feelings, nor that she felt my fear. As if my life depended on it, so hard did I fight for something that was not felt by her who was much older than I. I had to guard over ‘something’ that lived in and around me, but that I did not understand myself.

Other children of my age will also hide their own inner worlds when they are not understood. No feelings will be given in trust to an other human being if he does not have the same feelings to create a response. The life of the soul inexorably closes itself off. The feelings of a child will either fall dormant or will unceasingly continue to brood about it. It will and must reach that after which it hungers; it becomes sharper and more conscious until it unfurls itself and the true character traits surface. On these a person builds his future. In the coming years the spirit develops itself, especially when maturity for the male or female is approaching. At that time, then, one is either conscious or asleep; but that sleep-condition belongs only to those who do not have the feeling, the experience or the ability to assimilate and understand all that I have been telling here.

There was a driving force in me which others considered physical weakness, however, it was in my inner being that the problem occurred. For those who did not understand me, that force shut itself off inevitably; but when the older person would surround me with love, it would unlock and I automatically merged with that power of love that made me happy. This was the reason I surrendered to her, my teacher, who cared for me. I knew for certain that had she given the real reason to my parents I would not have wanted to have anything to do with her any more. This eased the strained relations and the return of my old familiar feelings towards her. I told her that I was not angry, but also that she should never give me away.

‘You won’t break your word?’ I added.

‘My word, did you say?’

‘Your word’, I repeated and remained staring at her.

New thoughts came into my mind and I asked her: ‘Shall I make you a new statue?’

‘If you like, my boy’, she said and I rushed off and disappeared.

After taking a dozen or so steps I felt my eagerness for modelling disappear and I sat down to do some thinking. How long I sat there I do not know; the time flew by, thought followed thought in my mind and I grew so tired of thinking that I fell asleep. I only woke up when I heard my name being called. There before me stood Marianne. Immediately I remembered the promise for which I had set out, and I did not greet her. Marianne knew nothing of what went on in my mind, gave me an angry look and turned around to go away.

‘Stay here’, I shouted after her, ‘stay!’

But she did not and soon disappeared.

Again I started out but I could not catch the right mood and walked back once more. From afar my nurse smiled at me and I understood that smile. The statue was not discussed any more, but I said: ‘Do you know that I will soon leave here?’

‘Soon leave, Lantos? How do you know?’

‘Listening in, I heard my mother say so. I am cured, don’t you know?’

‘No’, she said, ‘I haven’t heard.’

The next day, however, my mother came and told her. She inquired solicitously from my nurse how I was doing and what her feelings were about it. I looked from my mother to my nurse who loved me and awaited the death sentence. I knew already what she would say, she said: ‘The forest is good for him, he is much better.’

It was then decided that in a few months I would receive my physical education elsewhere. New teachers would pool their efforts for my upbringing, however, my life of freedom would be at an end, a new life would begin.

The next day I told Marianne the big news; she acted very shy. Together we roamed hand in hand through the surrounding woods like two lovers.

Suddenly she said to me: ‘I shall weave some garlands and then we shall get married.’

I immediately agreed and together we picked flowers to make this a memorable festive occasion. My dearest dog was with us and that good animal would be installed as our child right after the marriage ceremony. Soon the garlands were ready and we turned back to my nurse, who always remained in the immediate neighbourhood and did not let us out of her sight. Hand in hand we stepped up to her.

I did the talking and said: ‘You must marry us.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Marry’, I repeated, ‘we have decided to get married, because I must leave soon.’

We viewed this occasion in all seriousness. As she watched our sober, earnest little faces and attitude, she felt she had better play along in the game and with a few words she joined us in matrimony. We were man and wife and Marianne immediately stood upon her rights. I had to obey and treat her kindly, also favour her above all else.

But soon we forgot our alliance and looked around for other games to pass the time with. For hours we lay on our backs hand in hand watching the sky while neither of us broke the silence. It was as if she felt that she would soon miss me. Then again she jumped up suddenly and went tearing off like a scared rabbit. What had come over that naughty little miss? I kept wondering and thinking about that, but I could not figure her out. Sometimes she would return a few hours later and when I asked her about her sudden whims and why she left, she refused to answer. I felt her eying me surreptitiously from the front and the back; her actions were highly unusual. Was it because I was leaving? When I asked her if she was sorry that I was going away, she began to cry. Poor Marianne! I stroked her blond curls and promised her a present. When she sang she was happy, I knew. She took my hand in hers and then put her whole heart into the song she sang for me. How much had I come to love her! I told her that I loved her very much, much more even than I loved my parents. She understood this perfectly. Our small souls hankered for some warmth, especially mine, for I did not receive any in my surroundings. Then again we stretched out on the ground and told each other marvellous things.

Suddenly she said: ‘Lantos, I am going to bury you.’

‘Bury me?’ I asked.

A strange game, but it might be fun and I did not want to disappoint her. I would be buried and she would mourn her husband. She covered me with sand and foliage, only my head remained free, but I was ordered to keep my eyes shut. I did as she asked, for she was always the leader who thought up new games. I burst out laughing for it was so funny, but it was very serious to her. She mourned with a will and to her hearts content. Tears rolled down both her cheeks and I too became serious.

Marianne knelt beside me and spoke: ‘Oh, how I loved him and now he is no more.’

It was tragic, she felt deep human grief. While she was lamenting I felt a strange energy surge through me. I began to shiver and shake and cold currents went through my body. I wanted to put an end to the game, but I couldn’t. I was paralysed, my power over my limbs was gone. This lasted for quite a while and it upset the play, however, later on I felt my strength returning.

We looked at each other and sensed that something had happened that did not belong to our play. Unwittingly it had taken me by surprise. Afterwards we shouted with laughter and this game also belonged to the past. Unexpectedly she asked to be shown her statue. We walked to our art-house, but when I uncovered her model we found it to be one slimy mass. She urged me to make an other one and that she did not need to tell me twice. This statue became even more lovely than the first one. I carefully wrapped it in an old piece of cloth and buried it anew.

During all that time she had not uttered a word, but when I had stored her sculpture she said: ‘Are you ill? You look so white.’

‘No’, I said, ‘I feel fine.’

Yet she remained staring at me and then all of a sudden she turned around and disappeared. She made me angry with her sudden disappearance. I ran after her, wanting to know why she left without a word. This was the only big fault I discovered in her and it bothered and hurt me.

I did not see her for days and roamed around alone, looking for something to amuse me, complaining about my troubles to my nurse. But she could not explain Marianne’s actions either. Marianne’s comings and goings had broken something in me, something was shattered and made me suffer. At such times it was impossible to reason with me and my true nature revealed itself to others around me. I destroyed everything that I could lay my hands on and my parents even supported me in it; wasn’t I like one of them now? Their hidden fears about me disappeared.

Time passed and only once did I meet Marianne again. I asked her the reasons for her sudden departure, but she did not answer and ignored my question. Then I did not recognize myself any more, I grabbed her to give her a good hiding. She cried for help and my nurse came running to her aid and freed her. Marianne used the opportunity to take to her heels.

I was furious, but did not dare test my strength on my nurse and so I too hastened away to look for consolation in my own room. There I came to myself and I noticed that the fear for that one thing, had gone from me, and that I actually had felt it from the moment my mother had spoken with my nurse about my departure. The time was now definitely set. I thought of Marianne and asked my mother if I could say goodbye to her. She forbade it with a shrug of her shoulders. An other child that I could not stand, and had not seen for a long time would visit me. The visit was very short however, my mood ended it abruptly and my prospective wife left. Her I would not see again, it was an other power that severed this union and neither man nor spirit could do anything about it.

The next morning I was taken to a different place, where my further education would continue. My childhood, the most beautiful time of my life on earth, was over. Marianne I did not meet again.

In the feeling of my mother, a very wide gap existed between her and me, that could not be bridged. Even though I was very young, I knew that it had significance. My feelings were not the same as hers, her station in life, her birth, her wealth and powerful rank did nothing for me. Before I left I thanked my nurse for everything. Her too I would not see again.