The Clumsy Weaver Does Not Match The Warp Threads Evenly
The more you try to force your will on others, the more you will find that things do NOT go your way.
Finally, I, Samuel Gelb, begin to have bad luck. Nothing works for me anymore. I have never had to deal with things so rebellious and so difficult to submit to the human will. Genius himself is powerless. The three beings I wanted to master escape me simultaneously. At this hour, Olympia is surely on her way, carrying my projects in her luggage. As for Julius, his appearance under a false name in the Carbonari organization, half provoked by myself, is perhaps against my will, definitively condemned, and the Prussian ambassador passes through a real danger of death, long before the time and occasion which my mind had established.
I’m ahead of Julius, I’m behind Frederique. Here comes an intruder to challenge me before I have taken my defensive measures. I didn’t want to ask her for a wife before I had the strength and wealth that could make up for what I lack in youth and physical appearance. I toiled for her without telling her, and while I was preparing for her a better and happier fate, a fool who did nothing for her, who was simply born with all that I strive to conquer by intelligence and my bravery, a child, came in and perhaps stole all my hope, all my joy, all my dream. Like a clumsy weaver, I did not match the threads of the warp equally, losing sight of one side to work on another, and behold, the cloth breaks in the most precious place.
Samuel got up full of hostile thoughts, took a few steps across the desk and went to the mirror, staring at himself, eye to eye. Had I really resigned myself? He thought to himself with a kind of fierce anger and hatred. How will you proceed in order to recover the lost time on the one hand and on the other hand to curb the too hasty time? Try to make a quick decision. If not, think about it, here’s what threatens you: Julius can die at any moment, struck by the dagger of some Carbonaro, or suddenly fall due to exhaustion. As it stands, all the fortune would go to Lothario. Then, there would be only one way left to have a part of the inheritance: marry Frederique to the heir, and rely, in order to live, on the generosity of the man and the gratitude of the woman.
How do you proceed to recover the lost time on the one hand and on the other hand to curb the too hasty time, so that your will is fulfilled by itself?
Death and curse ! he exclaimed, striding across the office. That was all I needed to end up like this: to end up at the mercy of a housekeeper. Therefore, the intelligence, the courage, the bravery, the disregard of human and divine laws, and on the other hand all the care that I gave to this precious being, all the tenderness and all the devotion that I showed to him, let everything come to an end in such an infamous way? Shall I eat the crumbs they would care to throw at me?
No, I’m not going to get bogged down in this vile denouement. I will fight. But perhaps I am exaggerating the danger, and I am anxious as if I had proof that Frederique is in love with this young man. How stupid ! I only saw him for a quarter of an hour. It is too proud a thread to cling to the neck of the first comer. She certainly doesn’t love him. If he loves me? He knows me, he sees me every day, he intuits me, maybe.
Does the leadership you use arise in the circumstance where, for one reason or another, you become a kind of scientist of the mind, but also a kind of “stab” in the heart of others?
And so the conclusion that arises from this stage of private life, among people who weave intrigues and create anxiety around themselves, is this: when your will rises above the expectations of others, then the will itself acquires fear and aggression. You will be ready for anything, so that Your will is fulfilled through you and in all your actions, so that you end up wanting nothing more than to experience that unique sensation that only a quality fantasy can offer – the achievement of the impossible “as if through magic”?
In fact, leadership acquires a tinge of gray through the prism of the disappointment that the denouement of the intrigues you weave and the traps you lay along the story called “life”, a story that you can dictate, you can influence to your will, but you cannot change its trajectory by falsifying reality.
In this case you will end up like that hero who, through a breach in his “reality”, reaches the all-powerful condition of the writer of lives, whose entire knowledge becomes derisive as he denies his qualities, comparing them to those of his characters. This also depends on individuality and psyche.
The Clumsy Weaver Does Not Match The Warp Threads Evenly, and because of this he falls into his own trap: he himself becomes the victim of his own warps, because he turns into a space of complete anxiety, an emotional burden that produces stress, damaging health.
* Note: Dumas, Alexandre - The Hand of Providence, Editura Vestala, 1993, Bucureşti.
