The door in the huge wall behind me is not visible to me. Outside I stand. All alone. Am only body. Feel every cell. Every pain. Am only lonely pain. Heavy I am with my body. So rigid it is. As heavy and rigid as my brain. My thinking. No one I want to see. I don’t want to occupy myself with anything. After all, my own pain is oh great enough. Away with everything else. No further thought beyond my pain. Not someone else’s pain too. Close your eyes. If I see nothing, then nothing can see me. If the world is extinguished for me, then it can no longer hurt me. – Childish thinking, helpless…
That’s how I got into this desert in front of the huge wall. I got into it through an inner connection with a suffering person. That’s how people are in this world. Trapped in the loneliness of their suffering. If someone wants to increase their suffering, or even if it seems that way, with a furrowed brow their eyes are firmly closed. If he does not stop, he must be destroyed. After all, one can’t take in an extra ounce of suffering. Out of this results the agitation against people with dissenting opinions that has just become socially acceptable. Virus, war, climate change, speed limit,… it doesn’t matter, it will be struck as brutally as possible. No more pain. Not an ounce of additional loneliness. Dead silence, that’s the salvation. Not a critical issue. Not another one. Someone will do it. I’m sure they will. I’m too weak. I can’t go on. I don’t want to anymore! Apathy. Abandonment. Rigidity. The rabbit’s stiffness before the fox. Only no one recognises this. It is the paralysis in abrupt fear of what may come.
So I stand with my gaze fixed on the desert, my back to the closed door in the huge wall. And I realise with horror: The people know nothing of the door. They look into the desert and for them the loneliness of suffering in the desert is all that exists. They do not see the door that can be open to them all and through which they can enter the oasis of eternal security. Where they are refreshed and nourished. Selflessly. Where they can be without suffering and fear. Where they do not have to agitate against anyone and are not themselves agitated.
But they do not see this door. They don’t even see the wall. They only see desert and they only feel pain and they only hear the hot wind and they only smell the dust in their noses and they only taste the salt of their sweat, their blood, their tears….
As much into the pain I go: I always know of my home behind the door in the mighty wall. That is the only way I can bear it. When I go through the door, I don’t close my eyes out of tiredness or exhaustion. I close them in peace. When I go through that door, the restlessness of my heart can no longer dominate me. What are these people doing who have no home but in their unspeakable suffering?!