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"But you can't count these circumstantial events as empirical proof for the efficacy of the woman's spiritual movement," Indira interrupted.
"No I can't," I said. "But it proves something. Something profound had been afoot in that period, something that became so scary for the ruling world empire that their imperial clique had America's President William McKinley assassinated at the very world fair that represented the achievements and the ideals of that New Renaissance. The imperials feared the unfolding spiritual progress and took steps to stop it, but the didn't really stop it at all. They only succeeded after her death. That's a part of down to earth history too, Indira. What the imperials saw themselves forced to attack was profound and therefore out of their reach for as long as Mary Baker Eddy stood at the center of it. This it tells us something about the yet unrealized potential of her pedagogical work that hardly anybody at the present time is aware that it exist. It also tells us something about the as yet unrealized potential of the work of Swaminarayan and others like him, and of our own spiritual power as human beings and the freedoms that we are destined to find in the vast land of spiritual discoveries and spiritual being. These freedoms even include the freedom that we desire for profound sexual experiences, which we should have without the slightest trace of the slightest perversion, denial, or degradation of any kind."
"What you are dreaming about something for our distant future, Peter," Indira interjected and smiled benignly.
"No it isn't!" I replied emphatically. "We need this established now in order that we have a distant future, or any future at all. The train of horrors is still in motion and is moving now faster than ever. It has been given a nuclear engine and a dirty-uranium engine for mass destruction on a global scale. The nukes are on the table. The deterrents have been removed. The dirty uranium bombs are on the ground, pre-positioned by the tens of millions. The fight for the future is now and nobody is fighting, they're too busy wrecking the world with war. If we do not stop this train of unspeakable horrors we won't have a future and much less a civilization. We must utilize every potential that we have or might have to stop this train, and that means breaking down the barriers that stand in the way of spiritual and scientific progress, even those that have never been tested before, especially the deep ones that were never addressed during any of the great periods of renaissance. So, Indira, the point is that we don't need as much a bridge to the past, as we need a profound bridge to the future, which means building a bridge to ourselves, to our humanity that we lost sight of, and to one-another as human beings of a single universal human soul. Without that we won't have a future."
"That is the truth," she said and embraced me. "And that's why I love you, dear," she added. "You are beautiful in what you say. And so, to add to the festival of our 'dancing' as human beings, I have another surprise for you. I have taken leave from the clinic where I work. I am off work for the entire duration of your stay. We can explore India together. We can explore the world. We can explore ourselves and rejoice in an endless festival-celebration of everything that makes us one."
"Oh, this means that we won't have to hurry to get out of the house in the morning," I said and grinned. "That sounds wonderful! Maybe we really can go and visit those erotic temples that you told me about."
"You mean the Chandela temples of Khajuraho," Indira answered with a grin. "They're just a day's journey away, by air. I have worked for decades. I'm allowed a vacation."
"Actually we can't take a vacation from life, neither of us can, nor would we want to, would we?" I interjected.
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Stories about
Love
from novels by Rolf A. F. Witzsche
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