4. – Heaven and Earth
Good morning, dear people!
Another scene from Shambhala:
“Why are blossoms so splendid? Do bees truly have a sense for beauty?” I’m currently sitting in my European history and culture class with my teacher, Aga Hiob. I go there twice a week. As always, I stumbled over the stones in the villa’s front yard, sprinkled my hands with water as I climbed the winding staircase to my beloved teacher, offered fragrance, felt the warmth of the coal, lingered for a moment before the flower arrangement, and then rushed into his room and scrambled onto his platform. As so often, he reached for the bowl of colourful gemstones and simply poured them out in front of us. Now we’re sitting here, with my unusually distracted doll Kate on my left. What’s up with her today? She’s in a mood, and the question about the pointless splendour of flowers originally came from her.
One could consider Kate to be naïve – she is just a doll – but interestingly, her seemingly simple “dumb” questions usually open up completely new perspectives and insights. That’s the case again now: Master Hiob was clearly surprised by this question and became quite thoughtful. He falls silent and sits up with a furrowed forehead.
In class, we’ve been talking about Spain for weeks, and Don Quijote and Sancho Panza keep coming up. It’s great fun. They are really crazy!
In this context, we occasionally fool around and imitate people. Even Kate forgets everything else when we do that.
There is, for example, André, a French chef who often cooks at the court when we have guests. Master Hiob knows him well. This little, round André doesn’t really speak in words—he makes sounds: “Ohlala, ohlala, mon petite courageux ö ööö Princessiiiinn, what do I have here?” And he conjures up a raisin bun: “Hmmm, ai-jai-jai, et bon, très bon…” He always seems to have raisin buns within reach. Or he sings: “Alors,” and then takes in half a breath: “eeehhh…” afterwards. “Alors ehhhh … alors äähhhh.” What he says doesn’t really make sense, but it’s a lusty word-song, and in its own way especially expressive. It all wells up from deep within his plump belly—unstoppably full of joie de vivre.
It started when we were talking about Sancho Panza, and Master Hiob tried to describe his character, gesticulating wildly with his long arms—as he loves to do—and then sang: “Ohlala, ohlala…” in André’s tone. I joined in, and we went on playing and laughing: “Hmmm, bon bon, très bon, ohlala…” and rolled around on the platform, and now I just can’t get enough of it. It’s wonderful!
Ever since then, whenever the subject of Sancho Panza comes up, we do it again. We behave almost like animals. We smack our lips, make clicking noises, wag our index fingers and laugh. I may even spit a little as I do.
It’s marvellous, laughing together with Aga Hiob in this way! He giggles and chuckles more inwardly than loudly, but he beams, and his whole body moves—except his legs. Kate just corrected me: Exept the legs, and she is right. This whole act is very contagious. This old man is truly exceptionally lively, and he’s mastered imitating this French chef in such a way that it makes you laugh yourself silly. And the two of us, we both get even better and better at it… yes—I think I do, too!
Maybe I should become an actress!? — Have I already told you about my recent photo shooting? —
Of course, Kate is always enchanted, raising her finger with, “Ohlala, ohlala…” But she has less talent than I do, because she’s so genuine and also has a very thin little voice. She did not find her own really fitting voice yet?
Then there’s Don Quijote! The “Don” in Don Quijote means “Sir,” so I could also call Aga Hiob “Don Hiob.” But I don’t dare to try it…? We have a little play for Quijote, too: We sit exaggeratedly straight, stiff and upright, and then, very slowly and thoughtfully, we draw out our index finger—stretched long and pointed, carefully and in a wide arc—from the front over the nose between the eyebrows and adjust—just like von Reventlow does—our imaginary glasses. Von Reventlow is Aga Hiob’s secretary, a peculiar nobleman who tends to trip over his own feet from all his worries and pondering. In this role play, we purse our lips nobly and sit up straight, but otherwise do not behave too silly. It is more about very noble and careful consideration?
The worlds of Quijote are quite different from those of Panza. Quijote is immensely alive, but much more in a kind of motionless and silent way.
Mr. Hiob says you can always choose anew whether to be more like Don Quijote or Sancho Panza.
And that’s where it gets complicated, because there’s a bit of nature also in every Quijote—he, too, needs to eat, drink, and consume at least now and then—even if it’s just a feigned kiss above a noble Ladies hand. And conversely, every Panza has a bit of thoughtfulness, for example when planning the route or acquiring supplies, or when peeling a juicy sausage from its casing so that as little of the delicious filling is lost as possible. So, there’s a bit of nature in Don Quijote and also some kind of spirit in Sancho Panza.
You might argue that Quijote strives for the ideal, and Panza for the sensual. But that is too much of a simplification I guess.
Now it’s hailing outside—you can hear the pellets tapping the roof and balcony—and we listen in peace for a long while.
And Master Hiob is still pondering the question of the splendour of blossoms. He gains a sense of vastness from it—fine portions of infinity—and now he says something; now it’s time to pay attention!
“Look, my clever princess, splendour and beauty always have to do with vitality. They exist because life exists. Driven, brilliant painters or sculptors try to capture exactly this vitality in their works of art, that is, I believe, what modern European art is about, and in my opinion, it occasionally succeeds quite well, but pay attention: surreal elements are always involved. There’s no other way! You could not get splendour without the surreal!
The depiction of this vitality—and therefore beauty—always requires elements of death and transience. Maybe you’re still too young for this subject, but it’s important, and you should at least have heard about it, because after all, you are the Dragon Princess:
Beauty touches the heart through vitality. It needs movement, just as a saw needs movement to work.
But vitality requires the presence of impermanence and transformation, because it can’t exist without them. They are the power plant.
That Spanish artist Salvadore Dalí, whose paintings I showed you the other day, he always places a crutch or something similar irritating near a colourful butterfly! Remember that! After all, we’re studying Spain right now!
Butterfly and crutch: the marvellous is arising and passing away.
Or—leaving Spain—just think of the protector Mahakala, who is impermanence itself, gloomy and frightening, with radiant and flaming skulls. Just remember what presence and significance he has as a protector, and how liberating he can be.”
—I have to explain that Aga Hiob, of course, knows that at the court every day at sunset, they perform a short recitation for the four-armed protector Mahakala, among others, and that there are pictures of him at the court. Certainly, they open up daily for Mahakala at the villa as well—or at least now and then – and van Reventlow might offer some black tea at the Mahakala shrine.
The “Big Black One” that is what Mahakala means, it is impermanence, and thereby supports life. Strange isn´t it!? He is so vivid?
Master Hiob takes a long, thoughtful pause. He is unbeatable at that!
“So, your task today—before you go clattering down the stairs to head home with your crazy protector, Obi Van, and Kate—is to contemplate todays flower arrangement here at the top of the stairs one more time, deeply, please.
Please make me happy by doing this!
To contemplate means not just to look and think with your head, but to include throat, heart, belly, and lap, and by that open yourself fully to the presence of beauty and transformation.”
A long pause…
“But wait, don’t think you’re getting away without showing your homework today: So, come on now, get to work! What did we talk about last time? …”
—That’s typical Hiob—whew! A demanding teacher!
Kate leans back, relaxed. She never has to show homework, but at least she often helps me prepare and review.
I pick up one of the precious beads and get started…
Ciao ciao
Yours, Winni the Quijote (Private correspondent to the Shambhala court)
