Chapter 89 Part Three The New Healer II

As soon as Zarathustra had spoken these words, he fell down, and lay there a long time as a dead man. But when he awoke, he was pale and trembling, and lay still; for a long time he neither ate nor drank.This state continued for seven days; and his animals did not leave him day and night, except that the eagle went out now and then to fetch food.It laid on his couch what it had seized and plundered: so at last Zarathustra lay literally among golden and red fruits, grapes, red apples, beets, and pine-trees.At his feet lay two lambs, which the eagle had snatched from the shepherd with difficulty."

At last, after seven days, Zarathustra arose from his bed, took a red apple in his hand, smelled it, and found it delicious.So his animals thought it was time to speak to him. "O Zarathustra," said they, "now you have lay seven days with your eyes closed: do you not get up again yourself? Come out of your cave: the world awaits you like a garden.The fragrant breeze seeks you; all the brooks follow you with joy. Since you have been lying alone for seven days, all things have longed for you - come out of your cave!Everything wants to be your doctor! Or have you a new knowledge, a painful and sad new knowledge?You lie like leavened flour, your soul swells beyond its bounds. "

O my animals, replied Zarathustra, so go on, let me hear!It refreshes me to hear your words; and where there are words, there is a world like a garden, it seems to me. How lovely are the words and tones!Are not words and tones a rainbow and a bridge between two things forever separated? Different souls have different universes; each soul is a different world to other souls. Between the most similar things, illusion tells the most artful lie; the smallest gap is the hardest to pass. In me - how can there be a self outside me?I don't have anything!But we forget this while listening to music; what a sweet forgetting!

Isn't everything in which man can recover given a name and a tone?To speak is a lovely folly; thus man dances above all things. How lovely is the unreality of tones, and all talk!Our love dances to the sound above the rainbow. —"O Zarathustra," said his animals now, "to those who think as we do, all things dance: they come out, spread their hands, laugh, flee—and circle. All things come, all things go, the wheel of existence circulates forever.All things live and all things die; the time that exists runs forever. Everything perishes, everything is born again; being itself forever builds the same house of being.All things separate and unite; the cycle of existence is ever true to itself.

Existence is born with thoughts and thoughts; around this orbit, it will always circle that planet. Any point is the center of the universe.The eternal path is a spiral. " Oh, you chatterers and accordions!Zarathustra answered, and smiled again.How can you know what can be accomplished in seven days! —— How did you know that monster crawled down my throat and choked me!But I bit off its head and spit it out. You -- have you made a song out of that?But here I am lying, still exhausted from biting and spitting, still sick from trying to save myself. Have you observed all of this?O my animals!Are you even cruel?Do you like to see MY Great Pain as people do?Because man is the cruelest animal.

From time immemorial man has seen this as the noblest happiness on earth: tragedies and bull-fights and tortures; and when he invented hell, behold, it was man's earthly heaven. When the great ones shout, the little ones run there and stick out their most greedy tongues.But he calls that his "compassion." Little man, and especially the poet—how passionately he indicts life in words!Hear him, but don't let go, hear his greed in all accusations!Life conquers the accusers of such life with its eyes. "Do you love me?" said she, the shameless one, "wait a while, I don't have time to talk to you yet."

Man is the cruelest animal to himself; and in the hearts of all professed sinners, cross-bearers, and penitents, let not overlook their lust in complaints and accusations! I, myself—so I want to be the accuser of humanity?Alas, my animals, I have only ever known that the worst in man is necessary to the best in him. —— The worst of all is his best power, the firmest stone of the highest Creator; so man must be the best and the worst:— It is not because I am bound on this miserable stake that I know that man is the worst,--but I cry the cry that no man has ever cried: "Alas, the worst of mankind is also very small! Alas, the best of mankind is also very small!"

Great abomination for humans - that crawled down my throat and choked me.What the seer foretold: "All are alike, nothing has a moment's worth, wisdom chokes"—that too crawled to my throat, and choked me. The long night, a deadly lassitude, a deadly sorrow, staggers before me, speaking with yawning mouths: "The eternal cycle of your weary little man"--thus opened my sorrow, and ham-fisted its feet, and could not sleep. The earth of man seems to me a tomb; its head sinks; all that lives seems to me to be the dust of man, taken as bones, a rotten past. My lamentation sits on the grave of man, unable to rise, my lamentation and question chirp day and night, choke, gnaw, and murmur.

"Alas, human beings circulate forever, and so do small human beings forever!" I have seen them naked before, and the greatest and the smallest were too alike, too human—even the great were too human! Even the greatest man is too small! ——That is my hatred of humans!Even the tiniest thing ever recurs—that is my abhorrence of all existence! Oh, hate, hate, hate! —Thus spake Zarathustra, and trembled with elegy; for he recalled his sickness.So his animals stopped him from going any further. "Say no more, you new healer!"—said his animals, go out, where the world awaits you like a garden.

To the rosebushes, to the swarm of bees, to the swarm of doves!Especially to the singing birds, from whom they learned to sing! Singing is best for the newly healed; it is for the healthy to talk.When the healthy man wants to sing, then he desires other songs more than the newly cured. " "O you talkers and accordions, be still!" answered Zarathustra, smiling at his animals. "How do you know the consolation I took for myself in seven days! I must sing again—I ask for that consolation and that healing for myself: So would you like to make a song? " "Stop," said his animal again; "you new healer; you'd better get yourself a new harp first."

Zarathustra, for new verses need new harps! O Zarathustra, sing and overflow, and heal thy soul with new verses; so that thou mayest bear thy great destiny which no man hath! O Zarathustra, your animals see what you are and must be.Behold, you are the preacher of the perpetual cycle - such is your destiny! You must be the first to teach this doctrine—how could this great fate be but your danger and disease! Behold, we know Thy teachings; all things perpetually recur, and we are one with all things; we have been innumerable times, and all things are one with us. You teach people that there is a "great age of becoming", a giant in a great age; It must be like a kind of hourglass that is forever refurbished, forever flowing. So all those ages are alike in the greatest and alike in the smallest, so we ourselves are alike in the greatest and in the smallest. O Zarathustra, if you were dead now, behold, we also know how you would speak then:—but your animals beg you not to die yet! O that thou speakest, fearless and self-sufficient, for a great burden and oppression shall depart from thee, thou most stoic! —— It is also as perishable as the flesh. But the ties of cause and effect around which I am entwined circulate,--it will recreate me, myself of the causality of perpetual recirculation. I am again with the sun, the earth, the eagle, the serpent,—but not a new life, or a better life, or the same life: I am eternally this 'one and the same' life to come again, in the greatest and the smallest of things, to teach the eternal cycle of all things! —— Let's talk about the great noon of mankind and the earth, and then preach the superman to mankind. I speak my way.My word destroys me: thus my eternal destiny wills, - I perish like the forerunner! Now is the time for those who are descending to bless themselves.Thus concluded the descent of Zarathustra. "— When the animals said these words, they were silent, thinking what Zarathustra would answer.But Zarathustra not only did not notice their silence, but lay with closed eyes, peacefully, like a sleeper; though he did not fall asleep; for at this moment his soul was meditating.But the serpent and the eagle, when they saw how peaceful he was, drew back cautiously, out of respect for the great tranquility that surrounded him.