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Authors: James Redfield
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your twenty years as quietly
as possible, maybe even take a few bribes on the side. And it goes on and on. What’s going to stop it?”
He paused and I glanced back at him as we walked.
“I guess you think some spiritual renaissance is going to change all this?” he asked.
“I sure hope so.”
He struggled over a fallen tree to catch up with me. “Listen,” he continued, “I bought into this spirituality stuff for a
while, this idea of purpose and destiny and Insights. I could even see some interesting coincidences happening in my own life.
But I decided it was all crazy. The human mind can imagine all sorts of silly things; we don’t even realize we’re doing it.
When you get right down to it, all this talk of spirituality is just weird rhetoric.”
I started to counter his argument but changed my mind. My intuition was to hear him out first.
“Yeah,” I said. “I guess it sometimes sounds that way.”
“Take for instance the talk I’ve heard about this valley,” he went on. “That’s the kind of nonsense I used to listen to. This
is just a valley full of trees and bushes like a thousand others.” He put his hand on a large tree as we passed. “You think
this National Forest is going to survive? Forget it. With the way humans are polluting the oceans, and saturating the ecosystem
with manmade carcinogenics, and consuming paper and other wood products, this place will become a garbage bin, like everywhere
else. In fact, no one cares about trees now. How do you think the government gets away with building roads in here at taxpayer
expense and then selling the timber at below-market value? Orswapping the best, most beautiful areas for ruined land somewhere else, just to make the developers happy?
“You probably think something mystical is happening here in this valley. And why not? Everyone would love for there to be
something mystical going on, especially considering the diminishing quality of life. But the fact is, there’s nothing esoteric
happening. We’re just animals, creatures smart enough and unlucky enough to have figured out we’re alive, and we’re going
to die without ever knowing any purpose. We can pretend all we want and we can wish all we want, but that basic existential
fact remains—we can’t know.”
I looked back at him again. “Don’t you believe in any kind of spirituality?”
He laughed. “If a God exists, he must be an exceedingly cruel monster of a God. There couldn’t be a spiritual reality operating
here! How could there be? Look at the world. What kind of God would design such a devastating place where children die horribly
by earthquakes and senseless crimes and
starvation,
when restaurants toss out tons of food every day?
“Although,” he added, “perhaps that’s the way it’s supposed to be. Perhaps that’s God’s plan. Maybe the ‘end times’ scholars
are correct. They think life and history are all just a test of faith to see who will win salvation and who won’t, a divine
plan to destroy civilization in order to separate the believers from the wicked.” He attempted a smile, but it quickly faded
as he drifted into his own thoughts.
Finally he quickened his pace to walk up even with me. We were entering the sage meadow again, and I could see the crow tree
a quarter of a mile away.
“Do you know what these end-times people really believe ishappening?” he asked. “I did a study of them several years ago; they’re fascinating.”
“Not really,” I said, nodding for him to go on.
“They study the prophecies hidden in the Bible, especially in the book of Revelation. They believe that we live in what they
call the
last days,
the time when all the prophecies will come true. Essentially what they think is this: History is now set up for the return
of the Christ and the creation of the heavenly kingdom on Earth. But before this can occur the Earth has to suffer a series
of wars, natural disasters,
as possible, maybe even take a few bribes on the side. And it goes on and on. What’s going to stop it?”
He paused and I glanced back at him as we walked.
“I guess you think some spiritual renaissance is going to change all this?” he asked.
“I sure hope so.”
He struggled over a fallen tree to catch up with me. “Listen,” he continued, “I bought into this spirituality stuff for a
while, this idea of purpose and destiny and Insights. I could even see some interesting coincidences happening in my own life.
But I decided it was all crazy. The human mind can imagine all sorts of silly things; we don’t even realize we’re doing it.
When you get right down to it, all this talk of spirituality is just weird rhetoric.”
I started to counter his argument but changed my mind. My intuition was to hear him out first.
“Yeah,” I said. “I guess it sometimes sounds that way.”
“Take for instance the talk I’ve heard about this valley,” he went on. “That’s the kind of nonsense I used to listen to. This
is just a valley full of trees and bushes like a thousand others.” He put his hand on a large tree as we passed. “You think
this National Forest is going to survive? Forget it. With the way humans are polluting the oceans, and saturating the ecosystem
with manmade carcinogenics, and consuming paper and other wood products, this place will become a garbage bin, like everywhere
else. In fact, no one cares about trees now. How do you think the government gets away with building roads in here at taxpayer
expense and then selling the timber at below-market value? Orswapping the best, most beautiful areas for ruined land somewhere else, just to make the developers happy?
“You probably think something mystical is happening here in this valley. And why not? Everyone would love for there to be
something mystical going on, especially considering the diminishing quality of life. But the fact is, there’s nothing esoteric
happening. We’re just animals, creatures smart enough and unlucky enough to have figured out we’re alive, and we’re going
to die without ever knowing any purpose. We can pretend all we want and we can wish all we want, but that basic existential
fact remains—we can’t know.”
I looked back at him again. “Don’t you believe in any kind of spirituality?”
He laughed. “If a God exists, he must be an exceedingly cruel monster of a God. There couldn’t be a spiritual reality operating
here! How could there be? Look at the world. What kind of God would design such a devastating place where children die horribly
by earthquakes and senseless crimes and
starvation,
when restaurants toss out tons of food every day?
“Although,” he added, “perhaps that’s the way it’s supposed to be. Perhaps that’s God’s plan. Maybe the ‘end times’ scholars
are correct. They think life and history are all just a test of faith to see who will win salvation and who won’t, a divine
plan to destroy civilization in order to separate the believers from the wicked.” He attempted a smile, but it quickly faded
as he drifted into his own thoughts.
Finally he quickened his pace to walk up even with me. We were entering the sage meadow again, and I could see the crow tree
a quarter of a mile away.
“Do you know what these end-times people really believe ishappening?” he asked. “I did a study of them several years ago; they’re fascinating.”
“Not really,” I said, nodding for him to go on.
“They study the prophecies hidden in the Bible, especially in the book of Revelation. They believe that we live in what they
call the
last days,
the time when all the prophecies will come true. Essentially what they think is this: History is now set up for the return
of the Christ and the creation of the heavenly kingdom on Earth. But before this can occur the Earth has to suffer a series
of wars, natural disasters,
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