The Way of the Creating One

Wouldst thou go into isolation, my brother? Wouldst thou seek the way unto thyself? Tarry yet a little and hearken unto me.

‘He who seeketh may easily get lost himself. All isolation is wrong’: so say the herd. And long didst thou belong to the herd.

The voice of the herd will still echo in thee. And when thou sayest, ‘I have no longer a conscience in common with you’, then will it be a plaint and a pain.

Lo, that pain itself did the same conscience produce; and the last gleam of that conscience still gloweth on thine affliction.

But thou wouldst go the way of thine affliction, which is the way unto thyself? Then show me thine authority and thy strength to do so!

Art thou a new strength and a new authority? A first motion? A self-rolling wheel? Canst thou also compel stars to revolve around thee?

Alas, there is so much lusting for loftiness! There are so many convulsions of the ambitions! Show me that thou are not a lusting and ambitious one!

Alas, there are so many great thoughts that do nothing more than the bellows; they inflate, and make emptier than ever.

Free, dost thou call thyself? Thy ruling thought would I hear of, and not that thou hast escaped from a yoke.

Art thou one entitled to escape from a yoke? Many a one hath cast away his final worth when he hath cast away his servitude.

Free from what? What doth that matter to Zarathustra! Clearly, however, shall thine eye show unto me: free for what?

Canst thou give unto thyself thy bad and thy good, and set up thy will as a law over thee? Canst thou be judge for thyself, and avenger of thy law?

Terrible is aloneness with the judge and avenger of one’s own law. Thus is a star projected into desert space, and into the icy breath of aloneness.

Today sufferest thou still from the multitude, thou individual; today hast thou still thy courage unabated, and thy hopes.

But one day will the solitude weary thee; one day will thy pride yield, and thy courage quail. Thou wilt one day cry: ‘I am alone!’

One day wilt thou see no longer thy loftiness, and see too closely thy lowliness; thy sublimity itself will frighten thee as a phantom. Thou wilt one day cry: ‘All is false!’

There are feelings which seek to slay the lonesome one; if they do not succeed, then must they themselves die! But art thou capable of it — to be a murderer?

Hast thou ever known, my brother, the word ‘disdain’? And the anguish of thy justice in being just to those that disdain thee?

Thou forcest many to think differently about thee; that charge they heavily to thine account. Thou camest nigh unto them, and yet wentest past: for that they never forgive thee.