The Perun Santis are 40.000 year old texts that are part of the Aryan-Slavic Vedas. Ground yourself with some Ancient Wisdom in these times of Insanity.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4YcvOy_O5KM
This is the part of Goethe's Faust that I am reading in the video:
Ah! Now I’ve done Philosophy, I’ve finished Law and Medicine, And sadly even Theology: Taken fierce pains, from end to end. Now here I am, a fool for sure! No wiser than I was before: Master, Doctor’s what they call me, And I’ve been ten years, already, Crosswise, arcing, to and fro, Leading my students by the nose, And see that we can know - nothing! It almost sets my heart burning. I’m cleverer than all these teachers, Doctors, Masters, scribes, preachers: I’m not plagued by doubt or scruple, Scared by neither Hell nor Devil – Instead all Joy is snatched away, What’s worth knowing, I can’t say, I can’t say what I should teach To make men better or convert each. And then I’ve neither goods nor gold, No worldly honour, or splendour hold: Not even a dog would play this part! So I’ve given myself to Magic art, To see if, through Spirit powers and lips, I might have all secrets at my fingertips. And no longer, with rancid sweat, have to speak what I cannot know: That I may understand whatever Binds the world’s innermost core together, See all its workings, and its seeds, Deal no more in words’ empty reeds. O, may you look, full moon that shines, On my pain for this last time: So many midnights from my desk, I have seen you, keeping watch: When over my books and paper, Saddest friend, you appear! Ah! If on the mountain height I might stand in your sweet light, Float with spirits in mountain caves, Swim the meadows in twilight’ waves, Free from the smoke of knowledge too, Bathe in your health-giving dew! Alas! In this prison must I stick? This hollow darkened hole of brick, Where even the lovely heavenly light Shines through stained glass, dull not bright. Hemmed in, by heaps of books, Piled to the highest vault, and higher, Worm eaten, decked with dust, Surrounded by smoke-blackened paper, Glass vials, boxes round me, hurled, Stuffed with Instruments thrown together, Packed with ancestrial lumber – This is my world! That is called a world! And need you ask why my heart Makes such tremors in my breast? Why all my life-energies are Choked by some unknown distress? Smoke and mildew hem me in, Instead of living Nature, then, Where God once created Men, Bones of creatures, and dead limbs! Fly! Upwards! Into Space, flung wide! Isn’t this book, with secrets crammed, From Nostradamus’ very hand, Enough to be my guide? When I know the starry road, And Nature, you instruct me, My soul’s power, you shall flow, As spirits can with spirits be. Useless, this dusty pondering here To read the sacred characters: Soar round me, Spirits, and be near: If you hear me, then answer!
(He opens the Book, and sees the Symbol of the Macrocosm.)
Ah! In a moment, what bliss flows Through my senses from this Sign! I feel life’s youthful, holy joy: it glows, Fresh in every nerve and vein of mine. This symbol now that calms my inward raging, Perhaps a god deigned to write, Filling my poor heart with delight, And with its mysterious urging Revealing, round me, Nature’s might? Am I a god? All seems so clear to me!
(He strikes the book indignantly, and catches sight of the Symbol of the Earth-Spirit.)
How differently it works on me, this Sign! You, the Spirit of Earth, are nearer: Already, I feel my power is greater, Already, I glow, as with fresh wine. I feel the courage to engage the world, Into the pain and joy of Earth be hurled, And though the storm wind is unfurled, Fearless, in the shipwreck’s teeth, be whirled. There’s cloud above me – The Moon hides its light – The lamp flickers! Now it dies! Crimson rays dart Round my head – Horror Flickers from the vault above, And grips me tight! I feel you float around me, Spirit, I summon to appear, speak to me! Ah! What tears now at the core of me! All my senses reeling With fresh feeling! I feel you draw my whole heart towards you! You must! You must! Though my Life’s lost, too!
(He grips the book and speaks the mysterious name of the Spirit. A crimson flame flashes, the Spirit appears in the flame.)
Spirit: Who calls me?
Faust (Looking away.) Terrible to gaze at!
Spirit: Mightily you have drawn me to you, Long, from my sphere, snatched your food, And now –
Faust :Ah! Endure you, I cannot!
Spirit: You beg me to show myself, you implore, You wish to hear my voice, and see my face: The mighty prayer of your soul weighs With me, I am here! – What wretched terror Grips you, the Superhuman! Where is your soul’s calling? Where is the heart that made a world inside, enthralling: Carried it, nourished it, swollen with joy, so tremulous, That you too might be a Spirit, one of us? Where are you, Faust, whose ringing voice Drew towards me with all your force? Are you he, who, breathing my breath, Trembles in all your life’s depths, A fearful, writhing worm?
Faust: Shall I fear you: you form of fire? I am, I am Faust: I am your peer!
Spirit: In Life’s wave, in action’s storm, I float, up and down, I blow, to and fro! Birth and grave, An eternal flow, A woven changing, A glow of Being. Over Time’s quivering loom intent, Working the Godly living garment.
Faust: You who wander the world, on every hand, Active Spirit, how close to you I feel!
Spirit You’re like the Spirit that you understand Not me! (It vanishes.)
Faust (Overwhelmed.) Not you? Who then? I, the image of a God! Not even like you!
Thank you for watching, cheers!
