Cursed Earth

 

Man, through constant and direct contact with the earth, is condemned to it. Regardless of whether his true kingdom is fire, water, or air, he will always belong to the earth in some way. He walks on it, lives in houses built of concrete, drinks coffee whose beans are the progenitors of the earth. Man buries his loved ones in the earth, even believing in religions that claim to descend from clay.

Thus, unless we descend from the earthly kingdom, our lives will be riddled with misfortunes. Neither air princes nor fire or water princesses have a chance at a happy life, because it unfolds within the earthly kingdom. Therefore, for man, the earth is generally cursed.

CURSED LOVE

She lived with her husband in a house in the suburbs, from which she now quickly fled. With terrified eyes and a frown, she cowered in the cold. She felt the neighbors' shameful gaze as she leaned over her drunk husband, who hadn't made it home and collapsed in the middle of the road. He lay on the sidewalk, spat on and dazed. She didn't even touch him. She let someone else drive him to the house. She left him there and let him sober up.

That evening, her husband knocked on the door. She opened it with a look he'd seen a million times before—full of sadness, resentment, and anger. He entered without a word. With unsteady movements, he untied his shoelaces and went upstairs to take a shower. Meanwhile, she stood motionless at the kitchen counter, silently crying…

"Two hearts, four eyes—oh my!

What cried during the day, at night—oh my!

Black eyes, why are you crying?

That you can't meet?

That you can't meet…?—oh my…"

When he came downstairs, he was already sober. She felt the mixture of vodka and cologne steaming from her skin, which repulsed her even more. He, in turn, couldn't stand her fiery nature. He dreamed of one day, like before, going for a walk with her at one in the morning and talking about life. He wanted her to be his friend and lover again, not his wife… his wifey. He dreamed of making passionate love to her on the wet sand by the river, as he had done before. Then he'd lie there and feel the wind blowing across their foreheads. That they would be everything to each other—fire, fueling them to function, earth in which he could sow his seed, water, so they could thirst for each other, and air, so they could fly. But she had become a nag. He had no choice but to choose solitude.

"Will you stop being angry for a moment?!" he shouted, and the question remained unanswered. She was shocked by his audacity. The silence grew even louder as she turned on the radio.

"You're an idiot!" she couldn't contain herself and burst into tears. "You lost your job and you're drinking with my money! You're embarrassing me in front of the neighbors! I can't function peacefully, I can't invite friends over because I never know what state you'll be in!

" "It's probably not my fault! You're always gone! I have to watch the dog, do the shopping..." He continued to say many more sentences, but with each one he bit his tongue more and more. He regretted every word, and each regretted one he replaced with another he regretted equally. She said nothing more. She only dreamed of a man who could earn money for the house, with whom she could visit friends, whom she could give massages to after work. That night and the next few days passed in perfect silence. The couple felt that nothing connected them, that they had left their shared world and left only the chant:

"What's happening?

The world is turning upside down.

Where are the sheep?

And where is the shepherd?"

His addiction lasted about eight years. She had already given him an ultimatum: either rehab or divorce. He chose rehab (God, how he loved her! How he didn't want to lose her!) but fled after a week (he thought no one would notice). He loved his wife more than anything! He hated her fierceness, but he loved the spark in her eyes when she was still in love with him. He hated her tears when she shouted at him, but he adored her wet body when they bathed together in the river. He hated it when she turned the house upside down in her anger, like a gale, but he could still feel the warmth of her breath from the days when they hugged. Everything would have remained the same if it weren't for the earth, if it weren't for the cursed earthy kingdom that made him periodically lie on the sidewalk and bring shame on his wife and himself.

"But I won't leave him!" she once told a friend. She would never leave him. She couldn't look, touch, or smell his body when it reeked of vodka, but she loved him nonetheless. Despite everything, she loved him. Even though he was an alcoholic, he was her lifeblood, an essential ingredient, even if she was at odds with him. She, too, remembered those wild, youthful trips to the river. She missed them too, but with her feet planted firmly on the ground, she knew such occasions would never happen again. Although she didn't show her attraction, she was mentally in love with him. When he was in his "sober days," she secretly looked forward to every encounter with him. What he called grumpiness was, in reality, infatuation. She assumed the role of a nag just so he wouldn't feel attracted to her anymore – she thought that this way he would stop drinking, at least for a moment, and come to his senses…

"And I'll take the boy by the neck,

I'll love him as long as I live…

I'll love him as long as I live…"

"…what's happening?

The world is turning upside down.

Where are the sheep?

And where is the shepherd?"