Slavery, Freedom and Truth.
With my head bowed I continue watching my hands. For some my eyes are riveted to my hands. It cannot be a coincidence. The stare of disappointment usually slips here and there, mechanically following random ways on the repeated vain ramifications of the web, in order to make the time pass as more unconsciously and painlessly as possible. But this time it has been focusing on my hands for a fairly long time. I do not dare to think of what I am suspicious of.
No sooner has the thought formed itself, than the Uncon-sciousness rejects it. So the thought does not even take place, at least for now. The Unconsciousness is the sexless soldier of the female habit called Slavery. She affixes it as an impenetrable screen onto the male mind, in order to deprive him of the field of vision, whenever she feels that her existence is threatened. As a result, the Unconsciousness sends the mind back to the outside world, to seek nourishment there and fill his stomach with fleeting rough and ready joys and spiritual junk food, in order to unwittingly keep rooting the habit Slavery deeper and deeper within himself and, thus, perpetuate her existence.
The habit Slavery wants to continue to exist, no matter by what means and at what cost. She is a dominative entity who lives diffused inside my body and permeating and defining all my cells. All my cells are directed towards her and spinelessly follow her commands like hypnotized, as if they have believed that it is she who gives them the gift of life and not the One who really created them and who eternally provides them with the energy of life.
Slavery is in dread of Freedom, for she is afraid to lose her nourishment that keeps her alive. Her nourishment is the routine, the endless repetition of predetermined acts.
Freedom, on the other hand, consciously stays away from the repetition; she follows no routine at all, she has nothing predictable; she offers no guarantees for anything.
Freedom brings along a terrifying emptiness, a void which Slavery does not bear to even think of.
Freedom is not a habit like Slavery. Slavery is a terrified racist, like all racists are. The presence of Freedom terrifies her, because she belongs to a foreign race; she does not belong to the race of habits; she represents to her the unknown, the void.
This is why Slavery fights tooth and nail by trying every measure to withhold any data which could possibly lead the mind to Freedom.
I am a field of a harsh, inexorable battle. Slavery and Freedom claim me from each other. Slavery hates Freedom rabidly. On the contrary, Freedom feels compassion for Slavery and, by extension, for the enslaved mind, as well. She is forbearant, certain for her final prevalence, which will grant the liberation even to Slavery, regardless if she doesn’t know it yet, regardless if she cannot even imagine that Freedom wants her good.
I am in love with both of them. Slavery seduces me with her joys which are familiar to me, but she drowns me, whilst Freedom, although the void she brings forth frightens me, inspires me with her certainty and forbearance. I admire her for her superiority. My love for Slavery is earthly, thus imprisoning me by locking my heart and making me dependent, intent on the instincts and alienated from my brothers, whereas my love for Freedom grants me the joy of life, thus enabling me to breathe and care about all my brothers and upgrading my instincts to a inexhaustible source of joy and comradely bliss.
In between, the misguided ostracized mind continues his aimless wandering. The Unconsciousness, the soldier of Slavery, fortifies itself as well as it can, expecting a new attack. It sleeplessly watches over Truth, the exquisite maiden, who is the twin sister of Freedom. It barricades itself around her, in order to prevent the mind from coming close to her, because it knows that, should the mind see her even from afar, he will be fascinated by her beauty and will have no eyes to see its boss, Slavery, anymore.
It’s three o’clock in the night now; tomorrow morning I have to go to my office. I’ll go to sleep now and tomorrow afternoon the great battle for the sake of Truth will take place. I hope. I anticipate. I want to believe that I am close to Truth and Freedom. These two sisters are my only true love; my soul vibrates only for them, regardless if I have desired innume-rable women, beauties to the tender body, to the warm eyes and the ecstatic joy they promised.
Those women were perplexed in their own webs, as perplexed as I was. They could not hear me, I could not hear them. Both of us had been trained to listen only to the mundane anticipations of our enslaved minds. The same applies for both those who desired and offered themselves to me and those who rejected or simply ignored me.
But Truth is free. I hope to find her tomorrow and not let her get away from me. Among all the beauties I have met in my life, she is the only one who is so free that I can make her mine and keep her in my heart forever, without making her suffocate or think that her freedom is threatened, not even for a single moment.
Because freedom is her nature. Maybe it could be finally assumed that Truth and Freedom are not twin sisters, but one sister taking on two facets. Let us now call her Truth, because it is her that I am seeking right now. She will lead me to Freedom, the other facet of herself, who is my ultimate goal.
At least, I feel that she is my ultimate goal, because Freedom is the one whom I am missing terribly. It is she whom I am cooling my heels for. Truth is for me simply the step which will lead me to Freedom; this is, at least, what my pestered mind thinks now. Only him I have, so I can only believe him… at least for now…
While I am going to bed now, I already rejoice with the bare hope that I will find Truth tomorrow. Think how great my joy will be, when I really find her!
 The mind, although personified, is exceptionally written with a lowercase initial letter, because under Mind is meant the Universal Mind (or God) later in this book.
 Subsequent remark: Much later my mind will realize that also the contrary applies: as soon as he meets Freedom, she will constitute for him the step to meet Truth in a larger depth and breadth. For the present, however, his thirst for Freedom, whom she has so much been deprived of, makes him think that she is the goal herself, his ultimate goal. He wishes Freedom could be the end of his road. Due to the intense emotional charge caused by the perennial deprivation of Freedom, he does not yet have at his disposal the necessary discrimination to realize the following obvious truth: if the road was supposed to have an end, then the non-possibility to proceed further would be incompatible with the conquered Freedom, which would be thus automatically and instantly lost. As a result, the road which leads to Freedom is, by nature as well as by definition, endless, and its continuation after the conquest of Freedom cannot be other than the deeper and wider knowledge of Truth for him and his brothers.