Eve dream. Chapter two. Halved – part three


Picture by Beth Hokhmah, found here

Eve dream first episode (Lilith part one)

Previous episode (Halved part two)


2 Halved – part three

Eve was naked.
Eve found herself naked and fragile.
Eve blushed with shame, also for this.
Eva blushed, ashamed of herself, prey to an immense remorse.

It was thus. So, the Woman felt her need to somehow shelter from her malice, or at least to distract herself from it; she therefore gathered flexible sedge leaves around her, intertwined them in a sort of loose and bottomless basket and with it she encircled her pelvis and what she herself had profaned first.
She tied the interweaved sedges around her waist, above her hips, to cover her nakedness: as a matter of fact, if she looked at her groin, she felt stir into her intimate the excitement and lust of the Serpent and of her own obscene, unspeakable parody: Lilith.
As she was prey to an almost unbearable melancholy, she resumed wandering around the garden. She knew the abundance of her tears.

The cursed voice, however, did not abandon her and gave her no respite. At this point, almost hissing, she insisted on putting forward her thesis: “Now you are finally free. Now you know. Now you have seen and heard and experienced an ecstasy that you never even imagined existed. Now you know yourself and you know you are enough for yourself. You know you can be enough for yourself. The deception of the Creator has been exposed. Now you are finally one, black and white together. Light and Shadow. Eve and Lilith. Now you are whole. Now you know that I am your true creator. Now you will adore me”.
How unbearably false all this was!
Despite the insinuating and insistent hisses of the Snake, the Woman clearly perceived the exact opposite. The sensation of having been drastically reduced, diminished, halved was so acute that it made her pant, till it painted her chest.
She had gained nothing, but on top of that she had lost a lot. First of all, she had forever ruined and abandoned the purity of the gaze, the peace of her heart, the crystalline clarity of the perception of oneself, of the Mankind, of the whole Universe.
Moreover, now it would have been much more difficult to identify the direction of Time and the Meaning of things.
Each path, each way would have cost pain and error.
She had generated the fatigue of existing.
Her solidity faded.
By doubling and acquiescing to the worst of herself to exist without any control, not being able and unwilling in any case to become her own evil and destructive Shadow, she had in fact halved.
We could already see in it the tangible, sad and terrible possibility of taking advantage of Man and others who would come to seek one’s own satisfaction. To plunder nature for one’s own benefit. To feel hatred and resentment whenever others opposed their own lives and needs to the total self-fulfillment and satisfaction.

Eve therefore knew the most terrible aspect of freedom: the rejection of the Good. The rejection of the Beauty. She had rejected the truth of herself, the truth of the whole world.

She had rejected the Truth.
Innocence was lost.
Eve had confused Love with the instinct of the flesh.
She had disrupted her own being, exchanging the total gift of herself with the demand of satisfaction.
Sin had imbued humanity.
Sin had imbued humanity to its deepest roots.
Everything was about to change.
Everything had changed, perhaps forever.

No, not forever. Only for a long time, for millennia, until Mary, the New Woman, appeared.
The real woman.
The Immaculate Conception.
The one who would collaborate in the salvation of the Seconds.
She who would have had countless titles, countless attributes.

No, not forever. Just for a long time, for millennia, until the New Woman would appear. The real Woman. Mary.
She, the Immaculate Conception.
The one who would help to save the Seconds.
She who would have countless titles, countless attributes.
Because, there! The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son.
לָכֵן יִתֵּן אֲדֹנָי הוּא לָכֶם אוֹת הִנֵּה הָעַלְמָה הָרָה וְיֹלֶדֶת בֵּן וְקָרָאת שְׁמוֹ עִמָּנוּאֵל

The little girl, a little girl.
A poor ignorant young woman.
The wisest of all humanity and not only so: the Queen of Angels.
Sedes sapiéntiae, Regína angelórum.
The little girl who would be the Refuge of Sinners.
Refugium peccatórum.
The source and seat of wisdom.
Sedes sapiéntiae.
The Mirror of His holiness.
Speculum iustitiae.
The Cause of our joy.
Cáusa nóstrae laetítiae.
The Gate of Heaven.
Iánua cáeli
The Morning Star.
Stella matutina.
The Queen of Angels!
Regina angelórum.

She, who would have made redemption possible, even generating the Son of Him.

The Son, who would descend among men, into the world.
The Son, who would once again show Love, Good, Beauty.
The One who would restore the path to salvation.
Thus, in the fullness of time, the True Woman would suffer her unspeakable pain close to her Son, the Son of Man, the Son of God.

She would have seen the Son, her son, to be erected upright like a criminal, like an outcast, but she would have understood that in such abjection the poor bones of Adam would once again have been elevated toward the sky. The earth, putrid by sin, the earth that smelled of death and shame would be lifted once again and definitively even beyond Eden, towards Heaven.

Because, there! An incurable enmity arises between the Woman and the Serpent, between the progeny of the Woman and the progeny of the Serpent.
And the Serpent will attack the heels of the Woman’s lineage.
And the seed of Men will bruise the head of the Serpent.

All the Seconds would have a new chance, yet Eve didn’t know that this would happen.

Thus, the Woman fell to her knees on the peaty ground and, quite unusual, she injured herself by hitting a hard, sharp stone. Drops of red blood dyed the grass in Eden for the first time. Evil generated pain. She collapsed, trembling with shame, remorse and fear, hiding her face in her hands, wincing in violent and inconsolable sobs.


(to be continued)

Partial Italian version here


It’s Your Advent

Photo by JB 2016

As a cat that’s now old I am warming
my black hairs and my skin at the sun;
it’s no more than a tepid ball that
loses zenith and falls to the Alps

I look back: I had so many time.
I curse at its obsessive run. I
see my errors and not fixed pulses,
as corruption of lifeless anaphors

It’s Your Advent, it’s so now, again,
and I’m waiting for you sitting on
piles of already lost, wasted chances
due to sloth or to traps. I’m so inept

Come again anyway, please, I pray
You and Your Sweet Mom, that is my Mom.
I am clumsy as a grasshopper’s that
tries to fly to the sky.
                                        I miss You

November, 27th 2017


Italian version