The Loveless Plain of Indifference
In Hell, there is a great sandy plain, where the damned can go to forget.
They say that those who walk out into the dunes will lose their feelings. This is because the sand is magic. For every grain that touches your skin, an emotion is removed from you. It starts with the more prominent bonds you have with people - deep love, great anger, utter loneliness. As the strong ties fade away, the lesser ones also start to disappear. Friendships cease to mean anything, and slowly, people (including yourself) no longer seem to have souls. As sociopathy sets it, the sand will start to take the more impersonal feelings - those you might have for art, for material possession, for sounds, for textures. When these are gone, the tiny grains will wear away at what's left - the need to react, the need to breathe.
It is just prior to this point, they say, that you need to leave.
They say, it's cleansing. It's hard to live in Hell, with the weakness of emotions. Physical pain is transient and does not evolve in the same way that emotional pain can. It's easier to live here without feelings.
So they flock to the plain in droves, setting out into the sands with a certain joy in their hearts. The joy that they, at some point, will no longer be able to feel joy or sadness or wonder.
But it's easy to get lost in the desert. In the midst of the sandstorms, and their associated thievery of souls, it is a trivial matter to confuse and bemuse the travellers. They turn this way and that, the time fast-approaching when their feelings desert them completely and they drop, lifeless forever, to the ground. But every time they stop and stare, the desert's edge cannot be seen. Soon it seems there is no way out.
They say that in the middle of this desert is an angel who has the power to bestow any fantasy upon those he comes across. He is able to grant you any wish you desire. He is in the place where the last traces of feeling leave you, where you fall without care to the floor.
He asks the same question, each time, "what is it that you desire the most?".
They say that the answer is the same, each time, "I crave feeling.".
The wish is granted in the same way, each time - pure physical pain.
The underworld works in cycles like this.
I once met a man for the second time, who had ventured into the desert though I'd told him this tale the first time. He was pale and tired and spoke in a whisper. I asked him why he'd visited the plain, knowing what would happen at its end.
"It was a girl," he said.
"A girl?"
"I was in love with her. Hell used it against me. I wanted to rid myself of it. My plan was to venture far enough to rid myself of love, and no farther."
"But I see the grains of sand still clinging to you, and you have been gone for centuries?"
"Yes. As I walked out into the plain, love was the first to leave me. I felt hate and anger. Yet beneath them, I still felt love. I still cared - how can one hate without caring? So I stayed, until hate and anger were gone."
"That should still be quick, in the whirling sandstorms..."
"Yes. Then as I looked upon clouds, or fell against thorns, in the feelings I felt, there was still some trace of love. It wouldn't leave me. I stayed until those traces were gone, and by then it was too late. I had nothing left to give. The angel appeared to me."
"What did he say?"
"He told me that love encompasses all emotion. That love is simply a mixture of all feelings, much like the colour white is simply the sum of all colours."
"What did you say?"
"I said that love, therefore, cannot exist. He agreed. He said I was foolish to come here."
"Perhaps you were."
"He also said that I was lucky. That many he met had simply gone to sleep and woken in the great plain."
"They are unlucky souls. What happened then?"
"He asked his question of me. I replied. He granted my wish for a time, though I have yet to fill this void in me."
"At least you do not love her. In fact, you have no emotions at all. You are purely indifferent to all things."
"Yes. Indifference is the opposite of love."
And with those words, he turned and left. Back towards the desert.
They say that those who walk out into the dunes will lose their feelings. This is because the sand is magic. For every grain that touches your skin, an emotion is removed from you. It starts with the more prominent bonds you have with people - deep love, great anger, utter loneliness. As the strong ties fade away, the lesser ones also start to disappear. Friendships cease to mean anything, and slowly, people (including yourself) no longer seem to have souls. As sociopathy sets it, the sand will start to take the more impersonal feelings - those you might have for art, for material possession, for sounds, for textures. When these are gone, the tiny grains will wear away at what's left - the need to react, the need to breathe.
It is just prior to this point, they say, that you need to leave.
They say, it's cleansing. It's hard to live in Hell, with the weakness of emotions. Physical pain is transient and does not evolve in the same way that emotional pain can. It's easier to live here without feelings.
So they flock to the plain in droves, setting out into the sands with a certain joy in their hearts. The joy that they, at some point, will no longer be able to feel joy or sadness or wonder.
But it's easy to get lost in the desert. In the midst of the sandstorms, and their associated thievery of souls, it is a trivial matter to confuse and bemuse the travellers. They turn this way and that, the time fast-approaching when their feelings desert them completely and they drop, lifeless forever, to the ground. But every time they stop and stare, the desert's edge cannot be seen. Soon it seems there is no way out.
They say that in the middle of this desert is an angel who has the power to bestow any fantasy upon those he comes across. He is able to grant you any wish you desire. He is in the place where the last traces of feeling leave you, where you fall without care to the floor.
He asks the same question, each time, "what is it that you desire the most?".
They say that the answer is the same, each time, "I crave feeling.".
The wish is granted in the same way, each time - pure physical pain.
The underworld works in cycles like this.
I once met a man for the second time, who had ventured into the desert though I'd told him this tale the first time. He was pale and tired and spoke in a whisper. I asked him why he'd visited the plain, knowing what would happen at its end.
"It was a girl," he said.
"A girl?"
"I was in love with her. Hell used it against me. I wanted to rid myself of it. My plan was to venture far enough to rid myself of love, and no farther."
"But I see the grains of sand still clinging to you, and you have been gone for centuries?"
"Yes. As I walked out into the plain, love was the first to leave me. I felt hate and anger. Yet beneath them, I still felt love. I still cared - how can one hate without caring? So I stayed, until hate and anger were gone."
"That should still be quick, in the whirling sandstorms..."
"Yes. Then as I looked upon clouds, or fell against thorns, in the feelings I felt, there was still some trace of love. It wouldn't leave me. I stayed until those traces were gone, and by then it was too late. I had nothing left to give. The angel appeared to me."
"What did he say?"
"He told me that love encompasses all emotion. That love is simply a mixture of all feelings, much like the colour white is simply the sum of all colours."
"What did you say?"
"I said that love, therefore, cannot exist. He agreed. He said I was foolish to come here."
"Perhaps you were."
"He also said that I was lucky. That many he met had simply gone to sleep and woken in the great plain."
"They are unlucky souls. What happened then?"
"He asked his question of me. I replied. He granted my wish for a time, though I have yet to fill this void in me."
"At least you do not love her. In fact, you have no emotions at all. You are purely indifferent to all things."
"Yes. Indifference is the opposite of love."
And with those words, he turned and left. Back towards the desert.
posted by Juliet is Bleeding... | 11:06 pm
