In fact body — it that hard, that ousts emptiness
Birth of man.
The body of man gives birth at first. And a man gives birth only in the moment of death of his body.
Who I? Man? It is not. Woman? It is not. Child? It is not also. And, certainly, the grown not man. And who? I — only material. Material from which I do itself right through life. My body can name a man or child, or yet somehow. Certainly, I make itself not alone out of this material. I am helped by other people. Which lived, live or will live. I am helped by this book. Maybe, it does me more than I. In fact it is my child, and I am its child. In fact when I in it write about that, whatever know, blank space in my head yields to hard knowledge.
And if right through life I make itself out of itself, then when I am ready? When the last stroke will be fixed? Well, certainly, in the moment of death. Then this work will be shut-down.
Whatever sculptor wants to give a glance on the labour?
But seeing the birth is impossible before death of body. Unfinished work it is not accepted to show.
Without death we would not be able to give birth and know: who we.
It opens us eyes.
We et al.
We not alone are in this world.
A main clock would not exist, if any doors were opened without effort, if us nobody interfered with.
Other people interfere with us. Other people and help us.
If nobody mixed, and there is nobody it would be to conduct a fight, life would lose sense and we would be deprived body. In fact body — it that hard, that ousts emptiness. Two different body does not can human to occupy one and also place in one and also time. Preeminently this ability of body in inability to yield the place other — and reason of fight, and reason of life, and reason of death.
Who is able to fight — able to live and able to die.
There is not a fight only between having a way.
But such a bit.
And those, who has a way from the first minutes of birth of the body of unit among eternity.
It is impossible to live with anybody not fighting.
But those, with whom does not contest, take by a hand and lead away with itself outside life.
And it — the lightest, that can be thought of.
Kind you way!
Now that you finished reading of this book, I can say that understand your senses.
And I say goodbye with you.
I leave, and for a long time.
Possibly, when I will return, then will write a new book. But does not promise.
You, probably, noticed that I all time mixed up words I, you and we. Write as though both from one person or from other. Apparently, someone all time pushed me arm-in-arm and interfered with me to write more clear.
But I think that you and so understood a great deal.
And if anybody found anything trouble in this book, hard or pitiless, then he made a mistake. I ask other to remedy this man, because will absent.
Will appear, certainly, and interpreters of this book. Which will explain to other, that is here written. Especially among my students. And there is a natural question: in which measure they can trust?
Consider that they tell you some new book. Not my. If this new book is good, trust them, please! If this new book is bad — disbelieve them, please! But as differently?!