The
Dream
A -bit
of a- Science Fiction story on the birth of the Cakra
Tempometer.
by T.H.E.
Servant
1
BIG BROTHER
For the
millionth time I close the door behind me. Outside there
is the great emptiness that I must fill. That is where
the people are whom I have to meet. I ride my bicycle,
because a car is not needed. I am riding, completely used
to the madness of brutal, shining and much too expensive
cars, with great indifference into the fresh dutch cold.
Marvelous weather, no cockroaches, no sweating or
tropical fever. It is the Paradise of Holland. Freedom,
wind ahead, away with all philosophical darkness of
sitting home too much. My bike is old, but honestly
bought from the Salvation Army. Pure love, not stolen
like so many bikes during college days. The
white-bicycle-plan, free white bikes for every one,
wouldn't work. There are always bicycles everywhere. Why
can't you just ride away on them if you need one? I
always hated possessiveness, but now I am mature. And I
still don't agree. But I am strong, I am indifferent
about it. I don't cry anymore, except a tear when
television is too bright or the wind blowing too
sensitive in my eyes. I'm riding home, my real home,
where my mother lives. My father died. I really couldn't
help. He was simply too old and his veins collapsed. I
didn't feel guilty as I did before when he had had a
stroke but recovered from it. Now it had simply been his
time. I managed to control my tears. Time was ripe.
Before
the train station I chain my bike to a pole as usual,
because I know the failure of the white-bike-plan. A
sturdy chain so as to offer no opportunity to the thief.
I am repentant and a teacher. I just chain my bike. That
is enough. I buy myself a train-ticket. Thoughts are
flashing in between the different ticket-windows and the
ticket-machine. What is more important? A nice lady, a
sober gentleman, queue up, or tampering with a machine,
creditcard doesn't work, no small money, all these
buttons ... I just do something and forget why. I have
always a reason or a system. The ticket is always getting
more expensive, but inflation is nil, so the
prime-minister assures. So what. In the train no
agression, the war is over. You never know how the war
looks like. The conductor can be angry, or my
co-travelers, or myself. But: nothing wrong. I have to
take heed, I passed my little station more often in a
dreamy state. Either the case. I'm pretty clear. I'm
doing good. My body strong and fresh, my heart at the
right place. A bunch of flowers for mom. A nice day.
Nothing's wrong.
'Hello,
fine you're there.' My mother's crown-prince is back home
again. By chance not the scapegoat of the family. More
like the Jesus Christ of the family. The nasty things I
would care after; the lunacy, the way, the
penance.
'My
God, are you still breakfasting?', I ask without
interest. My brother and my sister in law, pregnant and
being just the way they are, are sitting next to my
mother at the breakfast-table.
'You're
looking fine', says the old bike on which I learnt the
art of hugging. I had put on my neat suit. Since my
father passed on no shortage of neckties anymore. And I
feel good in it. That doggisch blue-jeans-business with
old sweaters is something more suitable for the private
sphere and the pub from which you return stinking like an
ashtray anyway. My mother embraces me like I'm her only
lover and I, a bit backing off, but not really, bend over
to welcome her grace. If she wouldn't be my mother, I'd
be pleased to have her younger as my wife. But such a
life I don't have. What to do with woman in a world that
looks more like a maze for psychopaths than a meeting
place for hard-working souls? My brother of course,
believes in the latter. He happens to be seventeen years
younger, to that being full of confidence about the
blessing of his sexual potency. As the youngest brother
always having been run after to make him stay loyal to
his first love not denying God, his life seems to run a
normal course: properly married, a job on a high-school
and a child coming.
'Any
idea how you'll name your child?' And before my sister in
law can formulate an answer, the complete gathering falls
into a confusion of speculations and ideas. Paul,
Lodewijk, Ad; those would be strong names. Girl-names are
not mentioned.
'Fortune-telling
proposed by all that it would become a girl', at last she
knows to answer. Somewhat disappointed normal quiet
returns in to the gathering.
'When
the new body of our father is in your belly - we'll never
know for sure - why then a girl?' I asked the question
implicitly, but still got an answer.
'I've
an appetite for ginger lately', said the rounding mother.
My father was a great lover of ginger who preferred to
get ginger and nuts for his birthday.
Me
laughing, 'Beautiful, perfectly right proof of the truth
of The Book'. But saying I could not so. I am not there
to preach. I'm there to dream until there's nothing but
that dream. 'My father a girl?', I kept
laughing.
'Maybe
he was too much of a guy in his life and now he is forced
to undergo some emancipation' my mother
proposed.
'Acceptable'
was the judgment, but still he could actually be a man
again. On the echo nothing could be seen between the
little legs, but that could come later. Other
subject.
'How
are the dreams, are they still deceit or are they
becoming reality by now?' My brother could ask the
question somewhat challenging, being proud of his swollen
love in the feminine. I, of course, could not show him my
manly opposite. The monkey learnt to speak, thus this
Neanderthaler discussed his amazing mace in stead of
showing it. Of course I still wanted to change the world,
of course I still believe in my self. After years of hard
work, seeking, praying and fearing, I had arrived at the
conclusion that a new time was feasible, attainable and
enjoyable. I simply had taken the line of the idea that
the misery of modern time was modern time itself.
Literal. It is mean, zoned, and summered manipulated
political timecontrol that took away mankind's clear
vision of God. Mankind was split in it's awareness of
time and space and had with that messed up the
fundamental organization of its brain. Literally does one
side of the brain not really know what it's got to do
with the other hemisphere. Identitycrisis, estrangement
of man and woman and the whole of the modern kit and
caboodle of opposites following. Big Brother had found
the solution: the medieval clock and the old-roman
calender, had to be complemented and with that the world
would be liberated from its modernistic disgrace.
Post-modern
time was to look like a total-design of free choice in
which each could live his own way, his own order, time
and rhythm without getting caught in a dictature of
the-way-it-should-be. Yet the story hadn't come across to
my brother like that.
'what
are you doing?' was his sober question. And that's what
it's about in fact. What was, right now, the reality of
my world-dream? Did I really think to have the world as I
would like it and better it? And indeed, why not? Is
modernization something odd? Isn't it very normal to do
your best and get a grip on oldfashioned business? No I
was not a miser and a pessimist. But a philosopher and
politician I was either. I loved music.
'I'm
taking guitar-lessons again' Robert managed to
express.
'Peter,
you still love playing guitar too, don't you? Or have you
given up?'. I had learned my brother to play the guitar
and he had followed me in the good example to blend
intellect and emotion that way. It had always been my
amorousness and now it was his amorousness. I
enthused.
'You
can show your guitar-teacher the pieces I wrote for the
Sire Eight-people.'
'They
are far too difficult', he protested.
'There
are some very easy ones among them', I said. I was always
convinced that culture and religion belong to the same
bush of feathers and should not be separated.
'I'll
see', Robert said, and with that it was said. More family
visited my mother. It was mothers' day. Big Brother had
some more smaller brothers. An other one, Hendrick, was a
physician with a healthy sympathy against allopathic
medicine in the form of the subtle poisoning named
homeopathy. I never understood how he could afford a
wife, kids, a car and a big house with it, but he had a
gift for politics. Combining the advantages of medical
power and status with a honest obedience to the laws of
his big brother: "Nerd, you'll not be such a betraying
prick as Richard Nixon and company, Vietnam, you-know".
Well - what did he know. He was simply intelligent. And
because I never told him directly not to be such a nerd,
he wasn't one. There was a fourth brother, Fritz, who
wanted to join the police, but quickly revised his plan
when our socialistic elder sister began calling names as
dumbo and cudgel with an awkward sour chilling face
without really saying something. That was all in the
past. Fritz had taken up the trade of artistic freedom
with a Here-and-Now philosophy of healthy abstaining in
love for the child-like artist-soul. I wanted to go to
the academy of arts myself, but had on my fathers advice
followed his footsteps and gotten into trouble. Hendrick
had divorced and remarried, just like my elder sister
Catherine (also called cat), and the second also elder
sister Kate had married an Indian and had,in the
beginning, rather preferred not to show her self ever
again. That sunday, I, Robert and Hendrick were present
without missing our deceased father. That we experienced
if we were alone with our mother. Now we had to alter our
fathers wisdom into confidence in our selves. He was a
developmental 'child'-psychologist and I became a
clinical psychologist/psychotherapist with mixed
(yoga-)feelings. In fact I hated all that nagging and
whining and rather lusted about artistic matters as music
and drawing. But that love snowed under. I didn't play
guitar anymore and drawing I left years before to my ex
Marie with whom I lived for seven years, but had to leave
to give way to her and my own ambitions. What was left
over was my ambition to get a grip on the world and
really improve it. What was left was my unwillingness to
leave the world to it's own devices. This is my planet,
my life, my Holland, Europe and World and I just had to
contribute of my own in the very normal modernization of
the out-dated, corrupt and treacherous mess.
'How do
you want to tackle it' Hendrick said, while he pushed
away his little daughter of four crawling all over
him.
'What
do you think you can improve to that 'beautiful' system
of ours? First we have to get things straight, don't you
think? Thus, Big Brother-who-learned-so-much, what is thy
judgment?'.
'Well,
there are a couple of problems that need to be recognized
as such first. The good old times we know as harmonic and
as being not so tightly settled by clocks as well as by
people, which isn't directly ideal either. So, I can't
propose a tight settling of what authority ever. We're
looking for harmony, and that without putting anyone in
front. The system of gregorian standardtime doesn't know
any harmony: the tight regularity of the week walks right
trough the division of the year, a certain day never
being the same date as a consequence. This is confusing.
The goal is harmony and not the turning against one other
of two divisions with obscurity. Secondly the succession
of month's is unclear: then we have thirty days, then we
have 31 or 28. That also is lacking logic and harmony.
Arbitrariness cannot be a common practice without
favoring injustice. Above that there is also disparity
between the division of the day in twenty-four hours and
the division of the year. Twelve days and twelve months
do give a certain likeness, but further division in sixty
(minutes) is nowhere to be found in the division of the
year or day. Next to that we have different dates for the
shortest day, Christmas and New-years-eve in fact being
the same celebration of new year. General problem,
especially of the clock, is the lack of accordance with
nature because of which people get confused in a
so-called nature-nurture or culture-nature-conflict. This
is how the problem looks like if you get it straight.
There has been a philosopher who said that real time is
something subjective which cannot be measured, but that
you don't have to take seriously. We know that the length
of day varies and that the celestial sky is shifting one
sign in roughly two-thousand years.'
'So
it's a cozy illogical mess,' Hendrick
suggested.
'That
you can say if you consider the fact that Napoleon and
Hitler were the greatest distributors of respectively
mean time and zone-time - that the old roman order did
not just kill Jesus, but in fact also with Hitler the
complete of the Jewish people, is still generally
considered the problem and shame of the twentiest
century'.
'But',
Hendrick said, 'that is a causal connection which not
everybody will recognize as being true'.
'It's
just like reincarnating, you're not sure of it, and
you're not supposed to be either, but you better take it
into account to belong to the possible. I know, dear
Hendrick, that you have a talent for politics, but if you
just regard it outside of the political as a mission to
built a system as harmonious as possible, you'll admit
that the old situation is fit for
improvement'.
'That
is true, but we have, to speak with pa, a problem that
people won't give up their old habits so easily and that
a plea for repressing something old for something new
usually runs into passion and conflict whereby political
opposition will cause irreparable damage to the good
cause of a reform.'
'That
is a very intelligent remark, dear brother, and what's
more the problem: people are really sensitive to who is
saying such a thing, because to pray to that guy nobody
ever will want to.'
'Hmm'
Hendrick said, 'But we'll not cancel the endeavor because
of that, will we?'
'No, of
course not', I said looking up as if I was watching atop
the bookcase.
'I
really properly looked in old books searching for
existing alternatives who could eventually be brought
together with modern applications and at that I
succeeded. There has been a proposal of reform before,
but that did not work out because only the calendar would
be fixed on 52 weeks and one extra special new-years-day.
That failed because it didn't form an essential solution
for the complete problem of time as I pointed out. Date
and day would match, but how to divide 52 weeks over
twelve month's, and how would the clock look like then?
That went into the dustbin. But in Vedic literature I
received from the Sire-community I red about a division
in 24 15-day periods, six seasons and 24 of our
well-known hours in the day. That is more
inspiring.'
'O.K.,
Hendrick said, it's getting too much for me at the moment
and the way you say it it seems to be getting quite
complex too, what is the fun of it. The way you pose it
it'll be a big effort, but I don't see the dream, what
kind of beautiful world I should imagine to that?'
Somewhat
hilarious I knew a good answer, although not properly
thought over and maybe even a bit dangerous.'Well, the
consequence is that we will be so harmonious and one with
time that we can put this time-awareness into four
computers, put them on one round table, attach the chairs
to it's legs so that four timetravelers can fly away with
the first flying saucer of humanity to another planet.
Don't you understand that we're dealing with a
timemachine that is reflecting our intelligence and
dreams; that it is about the finest of scientific
progress and the glory of mankind in respect of nature?
Don't you understand that it means the end of all
confusion about time and its powercomplexes ?. We can't
forever spin like moth's around a lamp trough the solar
system in garbagecans full of fossil fuel!?'
'Well,
well' Hendrick said with his eyes popping.
'I
didn't get it like that yet. Just take it easy mister
spacerace.'
Me,
laughing:'Of course not, of course, I don't want to get
into the cosmos at all, but isn't it a nice hobby to keep
all these unemployed soldiers busy with when the planet
is under control again as for populationgrowth, the
environmental issue and such? What I want is to have
Humanity in full command of its mental faculties relating
to nature again and that we're at the one hand not afraid
and at the other not hatefully trying to escape from
mother nature's wildness and fall down in cultural
cramps, lunacy and unjust arbitrariness'
'Yes
that kind of chaos-theory, I don't believe either. The
order appearing from the chaos, that's what it's all
about, of course.'
'Daddy,
look', said little Anneke and interrupted her father in
his deep considerations confronting him with a pink
rabbit with little green eyes.
'Do you
want to drink something' Liesbeth, Roberts wife, asked,
and the conversation didn't return after Hendrick
said:
'You
know what, put that design on a floppy for me, so that I
can put it on Internet and see what it is worth to the
global community'. Communicating to him that I would
think about it, I ordered a Malt-beer and went back again
to my own apartment as the family started playing
Rummy-cup with grandma. Grandma was busy
enough.
It was
the spring of 1997, the sun shining beautifully and the
tulips had finished blooming. The beech was running out
with lovely fresh new leaves and the birds were chirping
in the thrush-tree of the neighbors. Apart from that my
garden was only stinking of chinese food now and then
with me getting crazy sometimes of the big black Bouviers
of the neighbors who dissatisfied barked loudly every
time at each innocent passer-by because they were
captured in the little square behind the house of their
boss, just a few yards away from me. Since I hosed them
down with cold water they had grown respect for me so
that it sufficed to take a threatening look over the
fence the moments they were freaking out again. This at
my neighbors great indignation who wished me gone if I
would dare to do that again. Well, that wasn't needed. I
had won. And that in the 'year of the Neighbors' as
declared by the government.
I had
considered the proposal of my brother to spread abroad
the design for a new clock. I had reached, with my
to-be-or-not-to-be, the point of understanding that to
give publicity to something would not make much sense
when it wouldn't have any life of it's own. I tested the
idea once before with an engineer and an astronomer
without being further involved with them personally. They
offered their services as a scientific duty, but met me
with disbelief only, because of inaccurately formulated
astronomy and a lack of clarity about the necessity of a
new system. I was no astronomer, they were no
psychologists and the engineer washed his hands in
innocence. That's how the intellectual part of humanity
lives with drawers full of dusty problems and solutions
with the drive for renewal being lost in the tumult of
the ego. Of Freud we learned to think of our selves and
ask at best, wondering at the level of the super-ego,
what our selfrealization would have to do with objective
reality. How morality would lead to a soul serving
progress was in fact a mystery.
End of
the twentiest century there was an enormous egoculture of
millions of people all getting relieved of their creative
needs on the Internet and other media. How that chaos
would have to grow into one cohering whole wasn't clear
at all at the time. I had a dream: to deliver mankind a
service by giving hope for a new world that would be free
from the dictature of delusion; the arbitrariness and
conflicts of political egoism. I also wanted to liberate
the world from the yoke of religious ritual worship and
provide for a new concept of God. A concept of God that
would unify all cultures and creeds and would prove
atheism to be fiction. There is only one God who has
assumed the form of Time. This God is strictly neutral:
the ecstasy of the natural harmony of spheres not judging
over good and evil. The good is that what would be
returning time and again and would endure. So thus would
mankind. Evil would be that what's constantly out of
harmony while destroying itself. God is the order of
time, the consciousness of all living beings knowing
itself by means of simple repetition. In the order of
these repetitions a fugue comes into existence called
life confirming for itself all matter as a vital living
striving from darkness to light and vice versa. The soul
is nothing else but the selfremembering in that harmony
which of course is not bound to one body only but present
in the consciousness of every known living being and
potentially in all matter.
Everybody
attending to a clock is a religious being, atheists do
not as such exist. How is it possible not to believe in
time? The coziness by which we forget the time is the
Time and the God who is enough to Himself without clocks.
The more direct, the better. The complete of religious
rituals reduced to an exercise in reading clocks. Mankind
cured from nonsense and powercomplexes. Liberation in the
Here-and-Now that is different for each place and person
every moment, every day of every year. A beautiful dream:
politics as service to the God who is the time and
religion just a school of learning how to command one's
own time. From prayer to computing and from computing at
the time learning to count with each other. The
timecomputer as successor to the wristwatch. How would it
have to look like and how would we have to live with
it?
I
understood that no one would take notice of my ideas if
it wouldn't be a practice to be jealous of. Isn't
jealousy the primal drive of man? Because God is so
powerful we want His throne isn't it? It's not because He
would be a pauper or looser, would it? So: how to have a
dream from reality and a reality from the dream. When
it's ultimately about a time-machine, I had to prove that
that timemachine would be worth while. I had to think of
what I told my brother of computers put on a table with
the chairs tied up to it. I would have to do nothing less
than to put a flying saucer into function and prove thus
that a higher developed awareness of time would be much
more capable of than just indicating the time of day. The
order of the entire cosmos was discovered by it: that
proof would turn the scale in the battle of the
resistance against change. I became aware of the birth of
the cosmic paradox: to find
happiness on earth in the harmony of relating to the sun,
the adventure of the societal discovery and exploration
of the cosmic order had to get started. The discovery and
exploration of the celestial reality was not the goal it
selves, but it formed the means to bring about that
cosmic consciousness in love for one's natural planetary
existence. Not traveling trough time is the goal, but the
celebration of the cosmic harmony of Time in the
Here-and-Now of the presence of the living force. A Rose
is a Rose, is a Rose, culture maintained. And that is the
result. I realized that the way to that result would give
a conflict between people who would want to travel and
discover and people who would want to stay and celebrate.
The latter would win. Mankind would embark upon an
adventure and come back from it. Our Big Brother would
leave the house only with the aim of returning to Mother
Earth with a gift called cosmic consciousness. Now I had
to begin dreaming and my dream had to become reality.
*
2
THE ORDER OF THE ASTRARIUM
The
Reinout family originated from a line of teachers from
father's side and a family of clockmakers from the side
of the mother. Peter was the eldest son and convinced of
his conversion to psychology. His father converted him at
high school to follow the royal road of reason and not
the way of emotion. As far as Peter was concerned, he
would have become a celebrated artist. On high school the
only A's he got were for hand- and graphic drawing.
Especially graphic designs of a complicated and symbolic
nature were his favorite self-expression. Hours of his
free afternoons and the afternoons he had to do his
homework, he could spend drawing. Sheets of paper full of
circles and peculiar composition. Pictures with a strange
double perspective and spatial paradoxality. Escher was
one of his great examples and in everything he tried to
surpass his drawing-teacher, who placed, every time he
came to him with a product of east-indian ink and
ecoline, a 9, with a deep sigh, preferably at a clearly
visible spot in the drawing.
In his
figurative drawing he weaved all kinds of forms of men,
animals and e.g. cubes of cheese into each other to make
magical images and symbolic puzzles. He illustrated the
schoolpaper and had long hair, platform-shoes and thought
of girl-friends more than of friends. In math and physics
he was not the first and he endeavored for mean results.
Dutiful he worked himself through high school and lived
the sixties in an ecstasy of alternative
self-gratification. In a dislike for the establishment
and its small-minded gruesome wars he wanted to live free
love as an artist and join the academy of arts. But
father led him on the right path. "You can do arts always
later, if you choose a training at the level of college,
then you'll be doing something you won't do so quickly
later on". The smart fox, and Peter wouldn't be sorry.
Studying
psychology was very popular at the time of the
Vietnam-war and he felt for it. Although it was his
second choice, he did what his father wanted. Drawing was
a fine hobby, although he was worried about the fierce
reaction of his drawing teacher who didn't understand how
he could choose for such a pile of dry books. As for him
Peter would go to hell. And so it did take Peter 25 years
before he made a new drawing.
It was
a graphic
design
of a circle divided in six by a Davidstar without the
interconnections. At the edge of the circle there were
366 little stripes indicating the stardays. The circle
figured as a scale for a clock indicating true sidereal
time. This scale moved to the left every day one stripe
underneath an indication of noon, sunrise and sunset.
According to vedic literature he called the disc the
Cakra and thus he had created the ultimate cosmic
timepiece: for the duration of a year every indication of
time was unique. After one year only the same indication
would repeat itself. The circle was divided in 24 periods
of 15 stardays and six extra days to each to indicate a
two-month period beginning with the shortest day of the
year: the 22th of december. To leap once in four years
the disc would be stopped except for the leap-years
following a 125-year period beginning at the year zero.
Reinout's Astrarium, the technical term for a clock
representing the spin of the earth relative to the sun,
the moon, the planets and the stars was born. It was a 24
hour-clock with 48 minutes and 48 seconds. The disc for
the stardate was the scale of the clock. One division of
time for the complete whole of the cosmos. The precession
of the equinox, because of which the celestial sky is
shifting one starday in seventy years, was indicated with
a special rotation of the disc, not placing above in the
middle the sun, but the center of the milky way. The
Cakra-calendar, which transposed from stardate to sundate
gave in one starday halfway the year, had thus a cosmic
birthday to celebrate the birthday of the universe. The
fifteenday-periods were divided in two weeks so that
after a fortnight there would be an extra free day so
that people would be less enslaved to work for a holiday
and would live more relaxed in a year of only 48 weeks.
The peculiar habit to leave collectively for going abroad
in the summer would not exist any longer. People in need
of a holiday, could, especially during the dark month's
of the year, leave for a couple of weeks if they would
continue working on saturdays to make up for the
loss.1*
There wouldn't be any need anymore for a collective
holiday-period, but there would be a preference for a
more quiet style of life with long weekends and once in
the two month's a four-day period meant for celebrations.
Once in the four years there would be a five-day period
of celebration for the sake of leaping the
Cakra-calendar. To settle a division of the day above and
underneath the disc there was a digital window were
people could compare the old roman calendar with the
cakracalendar and could compare suntime, Greenwichtime
and standardtime with the time indicated on the Cakra.
Thus one could get used to Cakratime while still
following the old system. There was no question of
repressing an old tradition. Just the development of a
new awareness of time was meant. Next to the disc there
was an interface with which the clock could be turned in
all kinds of positions, different forms of time could be
settled, longitudes and latitudes could be programmed for
perfect local timing and an alarmsystem could be set to
warn several times a day how according to this or that
digital view of time the Cakra should be respected.
Despite the fact that it was a clock with several forms
of time and calendars and would leave nobody to want for
more because it could be programmed to any personal
preference, it looked simple. One saw a normal clock of
which the small hand indicated the position of the earth
and the big hand the course of an hour, with the scale
indicating which day one had.
Peter
was satisfied as he discovered how he could divide the
time the most harmonious and favorable way without
repressing the old system. It answered all demands: the
combination of digital and analog indications was, as
opposed to the old double-watches, used meaningfully to
bring about the awareness of the difference in spatial
and serial representations of time that was needed for
the conquest of cosmic space. He saw very well that the
clock, which he called the Cakra Tempometer, because
finally it had become evident what exactly was indicated
analog on scale with a form of time, was too complicated
to appeal directly to the lay person who had no clue of
the whole problem of time. What did people know about why
one fantasied about spacetravel and flying saucers: they
had never heard of the cosmic paradox. Peter had a clear
vision of a society transformed by the cosmic
consciousness of the Cakra-order. Every place it's own
time and every day its own indication in one would
liberate the people from the fixations and compulsion of
the old standard of time that depended too much on the
inductionproblem of too much of always the same with a
seven-days-monotony, timezones, twelve hour scales and an
illogical calendar referring to the false authority of
the old patriarchy.
Peter
was glad not to be the inventor of the Tempometer.
Everything he settled, he could finally find in
literature. With that humanity was freed from false
authority and egotroubles. Religion could be referred to
Vedic literature and the scientific community could be
satisfied with the strict systematic logic of the
division. Now politics would have more free reign to
experiment with time with less feelings of guilt. They
did so for centuries since Napoleon, but this was
constantly accompanied by warfare and dirty hands. Now
they could experiment with the whole of mankind without
confusing but a single person. Cakratime would figure as
a red thread trough all experiments of time. Peter even
got a vision of a whole new societal structure that
wouldn't be founded on the old roman class-struggle, but
would be founded more on an improved version of the old
Vedic division of society to status and societal
orientation. A new order based on personal volition that
wouldn't have any difficulties anymore with marks of
identity but would intelligently give expression to that
so that separation and conflict between individual and
group characteristics of identity would drop away.
According to the orientation in life people could, in
stead of a political color confess themselves to the
color
of their
occupation:
a beige costume for all on the pay-role, a gray costume
for all working in the trade-department, a noble dark-red
costume for all in civil and military services and a
black costume for all intellectuals and caretakers of the
spiritual soul. The
status of the individual
would then be expressed in the color of the shirt: a
green shirt for all bachelors and virgins, a white shirt
for all with sexual experience married or not, a blue
shirt for all withdrawing from sexual life and a orange
shirt for all who without a permanent residence are
traveling around in service to the order to transmit the
highest wisdom. Special deserve and experience could be
expressed in special honorary signs in the form of gold
and silver sixpointed
stars
hanging from a band around the neck where before the
neck-tie or butterfly-tie was worn. That band would also
without honorary signs clothe the costume in the same
color or could characterize a shirt. With the
differentiation of the honorary signs there would be 48
different identitygroups with which people in public
could place each other quickly. The old clothing of
creative self-expression would, of course, continue its
existence as informal clothing for people wanting to
continue incognito. Thus anyone could realize meaning,
purpose and freedom, with which in principle everyone,
except for the honorary signs maybe, can put on the
clothing that he or she chooses. A married person can
change from white to green; a blue shirt can change back
to white and a greenhorn can give up everything from one
day to the other and go through society as an orange
shirt. The head of state can determine who deserves
silver or gold: an acquired deserve with which by
tradition anyone can distinguish himself at all times.
Such a system could exist on the basis of the freedom of
choice in clothing whereby only social control would form
the authority over it and from it. Of course as with
carnival anybody can always wear anyone's favorite
clothing. Peter saw a dream come true and the truth as a
dream.*
1*:
even working on saturdays, going against the jewish
sabbat could be precluded by a more righteous and healthy
distribution of work in a 30-hour workweek.
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