European Man at a Red-Hot Crossroads

European humanism, like a wall, surrounded our planet with man. He clothed her in a man. And he mobilized everything, even temporarily and permanently incapable of fighting, against everything superhuman. Every passage is walled up by man, so that nothing superhuman can break through into the sphere of human life. Clothed in man, our planet sways like a drunk on its way to...? But still, the fall of the otherworldly is terrible. With its frightening riddles, the otherworldly, as if with fiery arrows, like fiery arrows, riddled both the body and the spirit of man, with which our wonderful planet is surrounded. Man is riddled with riddles, and his body has become a sieve, and his spirit. And can a sieve stop the hurricane of otherworldly mysteries, which day and night zealously blows at our star from the gloomy depths of infinity?

Humanism has based itself on man as a new and salvific gospel, and without assuming that any gospel ends in an apocalypse. Basing itself on man, humanism has based itself on the most volcanic soil. Volcanoes began to erupt. This is the beginning of the apocalypse of European man. Humanism only scratched the skin of a human being, and a monster roared from every pore. All volcanic vents breathe, wheezing and shaking the ground. Futurists, decadents, anarchists, nihilists, Satanists live near them and greedily write, composing a chronicle of the apocalyptic era of man in warehouses. And they are not ashamed of any filth, for the symbol of the apocalyptic era is the exposure of all filth, all abominations, all horrors. The right to this courage is given to them by their father, humanism, since they are its offspring. And unwittingly, humanism arranged a terrible exhibition of man, exposing everything human. I have never seen the light of an exhibition more terrible than this. Man was horrified, for man is something to be feared the most. You don't believe it? Unseal the deepest recesses of his being and hear apocalyptic monsters howling from there.

The apocalypse of our time grinds us into powder with its revelations: horrors that have never known each other have made acquaintance and become friends in man. Apparently, our old planet has decided to end its existence in man, to end apocalyptically anarchically and violently. Its atmosphere has become too explosive: all cosmic contradictions meet on it to burst when they meet. Unfortunately, she is placed at the damned crossroads of the universe. All paths cross on it: the roads of light and darkness, the roads of pain and joy, the roads of suffering and bliss, the roads of life and death. Every celestial body passes through it in one of its own ways. That is why the earth has become the refuge of all pains and the crossroads of all paths. Life on earth is so painful that man must wonder in wonder: Does pain not slide along every ray that penetrates the earth? Isn't that why the earth is a huge ocean of pain?.. Does not a drop of pus flow down each ray? Is this not why our sorrowful planet is the abscess of the universe, in which all cosmic impurity, all cosmic evil, all cosmic abominations are gathered?

The horror of human life is many-sided and cruel. Apparently, the earth is doomed to be a crossroads of ghosts, who for a short time put on a body, test themselves, try on matter, in order to finally throw off their bodily shells with screams and curses. The meaninglessness of earthly cosmism leads a person to the idea that some higher being has deliberately invented a game of matter, dressed it in it (these ghosts – Ed.) and is testing whether they will be able to get used to it and get along in it.

When matter awakens in man and comes into consciousness and self-consciousness, man feels himself to be a place of crossing of innumerable, unusual paths, the beginning and the end of which he does not know. Matter is close to man; is one in body with Him, but still cannot fit into the framework of human thought. There is nothing simple, nothing ordinary, nothing surprising about it. It imprints itself and all its crossroads in a person. Ghosts rush along them, which with the greatest joy stop at a person and put on a person. It is as if man is sent to martyrdom: the world is an arena, and it is torn apart by ghosts.

All creatures compete with each other in fantasy: it is difficult, and sometimes impossible, to draw a line between the fantastic and the real. Fantasy is the soul of reality, of all realities that a human being can be aware of. Therefore, realities, whatever they may be, are problems that are insoluble for the human mind, problems that transcend man. How can a person solve them, if not something more than a man, and better than a man, more intelligent and stronger?

For a tormented person, the strangeness of these realities grows into divinity. The tragedy, the accursed tragedy of our fantastic realities, forces man to create gods for himself, to look for gods where they were not hidden. Everything that is more unusual than man, both higher and more complex in nature, imposes itself on man as a deity. And it is natural that man has many gods, it is not surprising that he is a polytheist. Polydivinity is a consequence of the many-mindedness of the world. The whole world is a torment for the spirit, and every thing. Man cannot fully explain any torment by himself, but he has recourse to the gods. Many torments lead to many gods. Therefore, man on his painful historical path created many gods. It is difficult to understand them. Everyone offers themselves, and torments force a person to accept them.

The stronger the torment, the stronger the god it requires, the petty torments find minor gods. But there is one flour that is stronger than the strongest, flour in which all other flours are collected. The God who fills it with meaning and turns it into joy is truly God, and there is no other. This greatest torment is death. And with it suffering, good and evil, truth and falsehood. All together they constitute martyrdom problems, for every person who is tormented by these accursed problems is a martyr. 

Tormented by these problems, man must seek a man or a god who can solve them completely and definitively. Whoever completely and perfectly absolves of them is the true God, and the rest are false. There is not a single Feuerbachian man-god who has not gone bankrupt in the face of these problems. If you want to test the gods, do the same. Lay upon them your greatest torment; whoever fills it with meaning and truth deserves to be your God.

If you are overwhelmed by suffering and pursues you, shift it to your god. If he makes it his own, if he fills it with meaning and truth, then this is your true God and there is no lie or powerlessness in him. Likewise, your God is true if he lived in your body and gave meaning to your frailty; if he lived with your soul and delighted the bitter mystery of your life; if you were the apple of your tear-stained eye and saw and found the meaning of the fatal mystery of human life, over which you weep.

Martyric problems bring a person to the most terrible crossroads, to the religious crossroads, at which God is tested and chosen. Those who have not reached the religious crossroads, it means that they have not yet been visited by martyric problems. Standing at a religious crossroads, a person stands on burning coals. It is incredibly difficult to choose a god, and it is even harder to choose a better God. Man knows the moss of the universe, in which he builds a nest until he knows the best and only true God. Without God, all his knowledge is loose and weak, shallow and superficial. He doesn't know anything as he should. He does not know the answer to the terrible riddle of good and evil, which immeasurably surpasses everything that is called man. Therefore, he cannot attribute it to deities.

If this world were only an illusion, it could still be endured, but it is a nightmarish illusion, so it is difficult for a person to endure it without rebellion. To the Spiritualist matter appears to be an illusion; To the materialist, the spirit seems to be an illusion. Therefore, skepticism is the inevitable result of human thought. How does my thought about the world end, if not skepticism? If it does not end in this way, then it means that I have not thought out my thought to the end, I have not completed my feeling. Let a man send one of his thoughts out into the world. How will she return to him? Would she not return from a journey far more difficult, more mysterious than she had been before her journey?

Man has divided himself, has behaved in many paths in order to free himself from the torments of his existence. He created religions, created cultures to ease the terrible burden of existence. In search of valuables, a person inevitably came to a crossroads where bones break. Here its path branches, bifurcates into a multi-arm delta. How does the first arm, the thousandth, end? Is it not the ocean of infinity?