THE FLYING CYPRIAN PART 3

Less demand, more seek...

Less talk, more listen...
Less talk, more listen...
Less need, more have...
Less need, more have...
Less care about your worldly possessions, more time you will have...
Less care about your worldly possessions, more time you will have...
to seek out your true self, the real purpose of your life...
to seek out your true self, the real purpose of your life...
...your unique gifts and talents you can give to others.
...your unique gifts and talents you can give to others.
Take care about nature and world around you and take about others...especially those in pain and need.
Take care about nature and world around you and take about others...especially those in pain and need.
More time brings you your inner peace, contentment and satisfaction.
More time brings you your inner peace, contentment and satisfaction.
Love from bottom of your heart...but choose the right one...
Love from bottom of your heart...but choose the right one...
Not self serving, indulging, obsessive type of love...
Not self serving, indulging, obsessive type of love...
...the one you can buy and sell, the one that shouts at you from every corner, every glossy page,
...the one you can buy and sell, the one that shouts at you from every corner, every glossy page,
but love born from your long life pain and struggles,
but love born from your long life pain and struggles,
love born from your humility when you reach to humanity and beyond,
love born from your humility when you reach to humanity and beyond,
the act of love that teaches you forget resentment, self pity, jealousy, cruelty, revenge, anger and frustration with yourself and others.
the act of love that teaches you forget resentment, self pity, jealousy, cruelty, revenge, anger and frustration with yourself and others.
The love you can not bend to the demand or wishes of your own or others.
The love you can not bend to the demand or wishes of your own or others.
There are many that have nothing or die from hunger and diseases before they find this kind of love.
There are many that have nothing or die from hunger and diseases before they find this kind of love.
There are many that have too much and in their self absorbing care for worldly goods, fame or look..
There are many that have too much and in their self absorbing care for worldly goods, fame or look..
...have no time left to seek and find this kind of love.
...have no time left to seek and find this kind of love.
And there are few fortunate who have enough to live, survive and share with others...
And there are few fortunate who have enough to live, survive and share with others...
...seek and share this kind of love.
...seek and share this kind of love.
These are the ones, content and happy who find their purpose in life.
These are the ones, content and happy who find their purpose in life.
Fortunate are those who LOVE DEEPLY few but able to be LOVEABLE to all.
Fortunate are those who LOVE DEEPLY few but able to be LOVEABLE to all.
Visiting Banska Stiavnica, a beautiful ancient little town that belonged to king once I found this note written on its ancient wall: ' We don't know if this pleasant town was raising from hills around...
Visiting Banska Stiavnica, a beautiful ancient little town that belonged to king once I found this note written on its ancient wall: ' We don't know if this pleasant town was raising from hills around...
'...or falling down stopping in midway resting somewhere between dream and world.
'...or falling down stopping in midway resting somewhere between dream and world.
The proud mountains around hum ancient songs without words, a symphony of wind and silence.
The proud mountains around hum ancient songs without words, a symphony of wind and silence.
We don't like to follow false dreams and temptations.
We don't like to follow false dreams and temptations.
Time is the one that rules our lives, just like it ruled the great followers of new world.
Time is the one that rules our lives, just like it ruled the great followers of new world.
Banska Stiavnica will never loose the shines of new world and also will never fall into ruins.
Banska Stiavnica will never loose the shines of new world and also will never fall into ruins.
We are happy living at the end of the beginning, somewhere in the heart of the Europe, that beats sometimes too fast to our liking.
We are happy living at the end of the beginning, somewhere in the heart of the Europe, that beats sometimes too fast to our liking.
We follow songs of woods, sun resting on the green backs of rolling hills, the fresh wind twirling around the dark narrow valleys just like forest honey.
We follow songs of woods, sun resting on the green backs of rolling hills, the fresh wind twirling around the dark narrow valleys just like forest honey.
The town in the middle of thousands of valleys, cemeteries and ancient stone walls down and the castle above..
The town in the middle of thousands of valleys, cemeteries and ancient stone walls down and the castle above..
You can't see the path leading to this town, you can't see anyone living there,
You can't see the path leading to this town, you can't see anyone living there,
a tiny lost town that no one remembers, history long time forgotten....
a tiny lost town that no one remembers, history long time forgotten....
...nature spreading their endless branches of green covering the priceless patches of history ready to be explored.
...nature spreading their endless branches of green covering the priceless patches of history ready to be explored.
All the rightful citizens can fit into the knight's armour of middle ages.'
All the rightful citizens can fit into the knight's armour of middle ages.'
I finished reading the long introduction to the town history and wondered around its empty and ghostly streets...
I finished reading the long introduction to the town history and wondered around its empty and ghostly streets...
...half expecting Cyprian in his long grey habit to appear from the corner...
...half expecting Cyprian in his long grey habit to appear from the corner...

THE FLYING CYPRIAN PART 3 (Ancient Slav Legend) retold by Mariana Cengel Solcanska

Another winter was coming

and he didn't count how many had already passed,

another monk died,

there was only him and prior living there now.


The translation of the bible was finished

after twelve long years.

The small and thin in his grey worn out habit

the wise monk climbed the steep staircase leading to a cathedral

above the king's town,

summoned by the bishop himself

who heard about his foolish attempt.

He was just an insignificant monk

and bishop though his work was blasphemy,

he had never returned back to his beloved Red Monastery.


One morning the prior was not there

in their chapel

for regular prayers,

the young monk found him dead

in his cell.

He was about fifty when he stayed there

all by himself

and continued to collect herbs and heal those

who came to his gate looking for help,

and also cook and make a fire,

ring the bell and pray just like before...

another twenty years he lived there

just like that...


He dreamed but was not sleepy,

just living on the verge of dreamland and real world,

full of senses, wisdom and real purpose of being.

He started to see the colours around plants

and people, that come to see him,

going around body shape with his hands,

he could feel cold in places of pain.


There was an eclipse in 1761

he studied and mentioned in his 'Herbarium'

and when he reached the last page of his book in 1766

there was only only few more words he needed

to put down: ' Those who loose their homes will wander forever,

although they find places where they can recover and feel home,

they will never find their home again...'


In Anno Domini 1782

a Husita

an elite soldier

of the royal regiment

holding a parchment

written by the king himself

climbed a narrow path

leading to an abandoned

Red monastery

a lonely wolf

greeted him

among the ruins

and someone else

he had not spotted yet.


The young soldier never saw

a place like this,

his father

used to tell him

about the monastery,

and the murderer,

also a famous healer,

hiding there,

who never talked,

but helped everyone

in need.

How old he could be now,

one hundred years?

No, it can't be,

he is long dead,

just like his father,

may his soul

rest in peace.

He sighed and looked up,

at the three mountains

above

lost in a mist

a narrow and unwelcoming valley

in front of him

and underneath

a wild river

full of froth

and dangerous rapids

huge tall dark pines

grow everywhere

his eyes can see

and among them

an overgrown path

leading to the ancient gate.


An old monk stood there

under the blackened sky,

snowflakes falling slowly

on his white hair.

The soldier stopped in front of him

tall and threatening

on his dark strong horse

showing the king's order

of eviction and resettlement:

Jozef II of Austria-Hungarian empire,

Bohemian, German and Roman king,

doesn't require your services any more...”


The old monk kept staring at him

with his blind eyes.


Can you hear me? The monastery belongs to king

and you go home.”


The old monk kept listening

with his deaf ears.


Where is your family, where do you live?”


The old monk opened his mouth,

but there was no sound.


Is there someone else living there?”


The old monk bent down

and opened a sack lying next to his feet.


The young husita

just waved his hand,

before the king

decides to do something,

this old monk would be long dead,

he was ready to leave,

when a worn out book

in the monk's hands

caught his eyes.

This is the herbarium, his father had told him about.

He bent down from his horse

and

snatched it

from the monk's shivering hands,

wondering how the cover

from the human skin feels,

but there was no difference,

from the other leathery books he held.


He absentmindedly opened it,

looking at the pressed leaves

and handwritten notes underneath

when he heard the cautious footsteps

and the searching hand patting his horse neck.

So you are Cyprian, I thought you are long dead,

and this is your famous book, why did you cover it

in the skin from your brother's back?”


A warm wrinkled hand

touched his own

and suddenly the young soldier

felt so insignificant and small,

he came down

from his high horse

and gently pushed the book

back

into the monk's bony fingers.

The old monk opened it

on the first page

from the memory

so the young soldier could read,

what was written there:

' ...because I was sad,

I began to tell stories,

when I lost my voice,

I began to write them down,

when I lost my sight,

I began to play my harp,

when the music died in me,

I still had my body to feel

and hands to touch,

I began to heal...'


It was my father who did it, do you hear me?”


The old monk just closed the book

and handed it back.

Then he slowly turned around

and followed his footsteps in the snow

back to his sack next to the ancient gate.


The husita jumped back on his horse

and looked down on the slippery path

he needed to take,

keeping the book tightly to his chest.


Only once he turned,

watching the old monk

with his sack on his back,

shuffling up the mountains...

Hey, you will freeze there to death, I will not say anything about you and the Red Monastery...”


The young soldier shouted after him,

but the monk kept going,

slowly, painfully,

moving like a broken twig

in an icy cold wind,

and finally,

in the darkening winter sky

he stood there

on the highest peak,

for a second

bending down

he opened his sack

waiting

for the flying wings

his son once made

catching some wind

and when they did,

he hold to them

feebly

making few steps

towards the end...


The young soldier struggling

to keep his horse on the path,

saw him

as a tiny speck on the top

and then a little bird

caught in a wind

falling slowly down.


To see with your own eyes the ruins of the Red Monastery you need to visit the heart of my beautiful homeland, it you stop by in it's capital city just few steps from Vienna, you can touch by your own hands those two priceless books:

'Herbarium' by Cyprian ( Botanoteka fr. Cyprian), 94 numbered pages and 4 extra pages with

260 types and 283 examples of pressed herbs in five languages: Latin, Greek, German, Polish and Slovak.

There are also poems, reflections and comments about his life in the Red Monastery. He was cook, surgeon, barber, fisherman, candle and mirror maker, writer and painter, and most of all healer and alchemist.

There are three different years included in the book: 1766, 1768, 1765-71.

'The First Slovak Bible' by Romuald Hadbavny, the monk in the Red Monastery from 1756-59. His father Count Hadbavny sent him to Jesuit College and he lived and worked as a librarian in the Red Monastery from 1744. Few year after his successful translation of the Bible to Slovak language, in 1761 he was summoned by the bishop and sent to a small religious outpost on the Austria-Hungarian border. He kept writing home sad letters asking to be sent back to the Red Monastery.

Read, touch, experience and you may wonder how much of this legend is true....


Slovakia, Terchova, Banska Stiavnica

More by this Author


Comments 30 comments

FitnezzJim profile image

FitnezzJim 5 years ago from Fredericksburg, Virginia

Having just read all three parts: the story is sad, but seems so true, that how the community perceives the life of a man all depends on the stories they tell of him and their point of view. In this case, in the end, the truth told, long after it would matter in this world to the father, might still be something held to life's end for the son.

The way you offer commentary is outstanding and unique, and encourages folks to pause and ponder some of the deeper meanings, the lessons, to what we see. So much that happens in the world is not just a single instant of action, but a slow and subtle build up, the consequences to things that have gone before.


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 5 years ago from Western Australia Author

Thank you dear Jim for your follow up and insightful commentary, it just wraps up what I wanted to say so beautifully....sometimes I feel that the images in my head are all mixed up and the reader has to really take effort to follow to untangle the truth in it...BIG THANK YOU JIM for taking your time to follow and untangle the flow of the story from the past and why it still resonates in us today:)


Nikkij504gurl profile image

Nikkij504gurl 5 years ago from Louisiana

truth or legend we can only truly know by what we believe.


Maralexa profile image

Maralexa 5 years ago from Vancouver, Canada and San Jose del Cabo, Mexico

Your story seems so sad. Maybe that is because its beauty and truth is seen only after so much time passes in the lives of those who make the story. I now need to pause and consider people and their lives in a new light...no longer make judgements on fleeting incidents.

When I read FitnezzJim's comments I think I may be trying to say something similar to what he has said so eloguently.

Thank you for the opportunity of such a meaningful experience by reading your story.


jrport profile image

jrport 5 years ago

Love your photos, Beata Stasik! I'll be watching for new ones, and thanks for sending your comments to mine.

I tried to "follow" you, but something went wrong. I'll try again!

I'll need to go out on a new photo shoot so I can write a new Hub. Take care,

jrport


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 5 years ago from Western Australia Author

Thank you for your encouraging comments my new HP friends, it took me a while to decide if it is worthwhile to translate this story to English, but I am happy now I did:)

Thanks my fellow photographer for stopping by and leaving your positive comment and c u on another photographic adventure:)


Becky Katz profile image

Becky Katz 5 years ago from Hereford, AZ

So beautiful and sad. So full of wisdom and peace.


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 5 years ago from Western Australia Author

Yes, Becky...it is part of my heritage, writing this reminded me of my childhood when evenings in my Grandmum's warm and orderly kitchen were spent with ancient legends and tales....so much to learn from...now, before, always:)


Cagsil profile image

Cagsil 5 years ago from USA or America

Yet another interesting part to the story. I appreciate you sharing a piece of your homeland. Thank you.


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 5 years ago from Western Australia Author

Thank you, dear Cagsil, for stopping by and giving me your time, very appreciated, you have mentioned in the first part that the story is somehow similar to you, there is a book and a movie in Slovakia that examine different interpretations of the same legend...all the best from beata


SanneL profile image

SanneL 5 years ago from Sweden

The fan mail you left me brought me here and I'm so glad it did!

I truly admire your passion for writing and you seem to be a person with a lot of wisdom.

I started out to read part three, but the depth and wisdom that hit me got me to stop and start over from part one.

You are a tremendous author and I will follow your writing with much closeness.

Thank you my dear for such a beautiful story,

Sannel


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 5 years ago from Western Australia Author

Thank you dear Sannel for giving me your precious time and stop by...I am glad you have found my writing worthwhile ....thank you for your beautiful and genuine comment, it makes me feel to write more:)...


Sueswan 5 years ago

A sad but beautiful story. Very profound and filled with much wisdom.

The pictures are breathtaking.

Voted up and awesome.


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 5 years ago from Western Australia Author

For me, usually, beauty and sadness go hand in hand....they say 'fear is the emotion we feel more strongly and more often than love...'...thank you for taking time to read this long, long story from my past...I feel very honoured by that and I am very, very happy your time hasn't been wasted...


BongSantos profile image

BongSantos 5 years ago from Philippines

After reading the 3 parts I'm a happy man. Orchids and champagne for your sensitivity and marvelous writing.


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 5 years ago from Western Australia Author

Cheers, I have a champagne glass in my hand and there are orchids growing outside ....under my window, can smell their sweet fragrance...thank you for staying with my story until the end...you made my day...all the best to you my fellow hubber and come back again:)


Derdriu 5 years ago

Beata Stasak: Thank you for bringing to its conclusion such a compelling story that you have so beautifully illustrated. The image of the monk seeing the colors around the plants makes me think of that technique of looking at a tree but focusing just past it so that you see its aura. Voted up, and everything else!


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 5 years ago from Western Australia Author

Thank you again Derdriu for 'taking your time to read this long story', you summoned up so nicely, I often dream about the monk called Cyprian and imagine to walk into his footsteps and vision the world through his eyes...somehow then the pettiness of our everyday life is just that....nothing really important to stress about....


susan54 profile image

susan54 5 years ago

I love the pictures and the story. Very well done.


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 5 years ago from Western Australia Author

Thank you so much Susan for taking a long way down...happy your visit was worthwhile:)....and come back again:)


icciev profile image

icciev 5 years ago from Kuwait

Beata! you are such a talent! it's my first time ever to read a historical story within a Poem aligned with so much nice picture that leads eventually and interestingly to visit a place. I wish I could visit your place. voted up, sad that this is the last part.


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 5 years ago from Western Australia Author

Thank you for your beautiful comment my fellow hubber, it is a pleasure to write for so genuine and appreciative audience. All the best from Beata


tom hellert profile image

tom hellert 5 years ago from home

BTa STK,

perception of truth is truly in the eye of the beholder -not refering to the large mythical circular beast consisting of a largecircle eye with several small eyes on stalks above the central eye- but I think you might have figured that anyway.

One mans truth is not always anothers...

TH


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 5 years ago from Western Australia Author

Yes, Tom, you hit 'the eye'...perception is everything....happy that we perceive the world in a similar way...all the best with your hubbing and breathing the fire of truth all the way to my hubs:)


kellymom1970 profile image

kellymom1970 5 years ago

Beata Stasak, Great hub also very nice pictures.


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 5 years ago from Western Australia Author

Happy you liked it, dear my fellow hubber and good luck with your hubbing:)


noturningback profile image

noturningback 4 years ago from Edgewater, MD. USA

The Word of God endures! The pain and struggle endured by a few to preserve the many is the selfless act that makes the sinner holy sanctified.

Thanks for sharing this story ?


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 4 years ago from Western Australia Author

Thanks for stopping by, 'noturningback' and happy you didn't turn your back to this long ancient story:)...and you are right, the selfless acts of few save us in the end:)


Scott2111 profile image

Scott2111 4 years ago from Detroit area

Cool pics I like the cultural stuff


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 4 years ago from Western Australia Author

Thank you Scott, it is important to share our cultures...it helps us to understand each other much better...all the best with your hubbing and come back again:)

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