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THE STRESS OF STORMS THE INITIATION |
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THE STRESS OF STORMS THE INITIATION |
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NOSTRADAMUS
(1503-1566)
Michel de Notredame was born on December 14th,
1503, in a village of St.
Remy, Provence, France.
Nostradamus studied literature, medicine and philosophy in Avignon and Montpellier. He always surprised his fellow pupils and teachers with his strange faculties and his infallible memory. He was twenty-two years old when, during the Bubonic Plague that devastated the city of Montpellier, he invented a preventive remedy that was very successful.
He travelled between 1530 and 1532 through France and Italy. When he was in Geneva with other travellers, he encountered a humble Franciscan monk, a raggedy young man called Felice Peretti. Nostradamus knelt before the monk and kissed his hand. Intrigued, the other travellers asked what was going on, to which the Seer answered, “I am doing nothing other than giving due homage to our Holiness.”
In 1585, Peretti assumed the pontifical throne under the name of Sixtus V. In 1546, Nostradamus’ name reached fame when he stopped the spread of a terrible epidemic of the Black Death by using a medication he had invented.
Nostradamus published his work The Centuries (in 1555), which includes prophecies until the year 3797. On June 2nd, 1566, he died in Salon at the age of sixty-two years and seventeen days.
***
THE INITIATION
“My son, you cannot find in the calculations of the conjunction of stars the destiny of men,” said Michel de Notredame to his son Ceasar, who, like his father was following the traditional steps of the Jewish tribe of Issacher, abundant in astrologers, magicians and seers.
“It was not by examining the skies that your grandfather, Jaunes, predicted my birth on Thursday, December 14th, 1503, exactly at twelve noon. No! He did it while his eyes were enchanted by your grandmother Reyniere.”
“So, why have you taught me how to use the astrolabe, father? With it I have learned to recognize the rigorous position of all the stars. Why have you submerged me into the labyrinths of math and into the darkness of astrology?”
“Until today, my son, you have learned the traditions and knowledge of our tribe. The science inside you has now matured, and you can be initiated in the secret our family has kept for centuries. If I have made you study the movement of the stars it was only to help your understanding of men and of everything that is. We are only specks of star dust. That is why humanity’s destiny is in the stars; nevertheless, it may not be in the rigid calculations we make about them.”
Nostradamus patted his son’s shoulder and invited him to go upstairs to his private observatory.
Impatiently, Ceasar climbed the very long stone stairs that lead to the top of an ancient tower near their home. For the first time in twenty-eight years the neophyte was stepping into his father’s private sanctuary.
A cold circular chamber crowned the tower. Each and every one of the walls was stained with moss and lichens. One could barely read the following words,
carved into the stone walls: “Visit the bowels of the earth and in rectifying you shall find the hidden stone.” An aroma of mountains in the dusk floated over the room and echoes magnified the spoken words. The ceiling, formed by a hemispheric dome of volcanic crystals, called out to all the stars in heaven; below spread the village of Saint Remy in Provence.
Ceasar was surprised not to see any astrological measuring instruments inside the room: there was not even one astrolabe hanging anywhere. He did not see any measuring circles or rings for astrolabes. There was nothing! Not even a book with notes. He could only see (besides the carving in the wall) a polished copper caldron placed on an iron tripod in the centre of the room. There was enchanted rain water in it and in the bottom rested the alchemic liquid metal: mercury. Next to such an extraordinary instrument there were a chair and a small table that could only hold a quill, an inkwell and a thick notebook.
“Do not be surprised, my son. Astrologists study the stars by looking up; however, wizards contemplate them by looking toward the earth, through the introscope,” said Nostradamus pointing at the copper pot.
“They study the stars by looking down to the earth?”
“Back in 1480, in this same chamber, your great grandfather, Abraham, was not able to predict that a royal proclamation would threaten all the Jews in Provence that same year, but when he looked into the introscope, he saw a destiny full of death if he did not convert to Christianity. Abandoning his orthodox religious beliefs, he and his family headed toward the baptismal basin so he could leave behind the name of Abraham of Issacher and become Abraham of Notredame. As you can see, he did not make that wise decision by calculating unions, ascendants, quadratures, oppositions and other possible arithmetic with the stars. He consulted the stars by looking inside himself.”
“How can this be possible?” Ceasar asked in disbelief.
“Come, I will show you,” Nostradamus made his son sit in front of the copper caldron: he moistened his already arthritic right hand with the rain water and rubbed it on Ceasar’s forehead. “This, my son, is a small help while you develop your own skills,” and he bade Ceasar look inside the pot.
“Father, I can see the stars reflected in the water! If I ask them, will they answer?”
“Do not ask them anything; let them be free and that way they will show you their intentions. Keep your eyes on the water, without concentrating, but look well inside yourself.”
After gazing into the water for a few minutes, Ceasar yelled in astonishment:
“Oh my God! Can you see what I see? The image is clearer than the best of my dreams!”
“Describe your vision.”
“There is a friendly tournament; it is held after the war with Spain. What war with Spain?”
“Do not question it, do not let your reason interfere; just observe,” said Nostradamus in a commanding tone.
“The King of France wants to measure his strength against—I cannot see—it looks like a young man.”
“Do not strain yourself and do not speculate, just look,” the teacher instructed again.
“The young man’s squires hold the heraldic lion of Scotland. The king’s blazon also shows a lion and his armour shines like gold! They ride and ride to battle! The boy’s spear accidentally pierces the king’s fortified helmet. His eyes! He falls down, he falls… Oh God, the king has fractured his skull! But he does not die; his agony shall be long.”
Ceasar suddenly stood up, looked away from the introscope and started walking frantically around the room while rubbing his head.
“Oh, father! I do not know if I will be able to do this.”
“How would you write this prophecy?” Nostradamus asked while he held his son’s shoulders, to calm him down.
“I would tell it the way I saw it.”
“No, no, that would be too direct, cold and compromising. Besides, a very few times the stars change their games and you would be ridiculed. You have seen my centuries, a quartet per vision, only four verses and nothing more.”
“It is impossible to describe what I saw in four verses!”
“Listen to this possibility:
The young lion will overcome the older one,
in a field of combat in a single fight:
He will pierce his eyes in their golden cage;
two wounds in one, for a slow, cruel death.”
“But written that way it is subject to multiple interpretations!”
“That is even better! It is best if others do the interpretation. Never try to understand your own visions. Never!”
“Father, I do not know if I will be able to follow your path.”
“No! Not my path. Ceasar, you will tread upon your own path. Listen to me, my son, soon the eye of the rising sun will see me no more. I do not need the introscope to know it or a vision to write these lines. Listen to them, and carve them in my tombstone on the next July 2nd, 1566.
I called myself a prophet
Because of a few obscure verses
But glory is not perfect
When it is only bestowed by fools”.
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© Alberto Sibaja Álvarez. San José, Costa Rica
® The Stress of Storms
