– Confession –
So many times a day I now let myself just cry... over nothing, not over the news, toxic dumping, competitive moves, or pervasive numbness and dullness (those things make me stunned, fearful, fierce, courageous, and clear), but the tears seem to flow when across the realization of how human we really all are, fragile and strong – oh such beauty – and how we forget that fact when we can’t bow, when busy with power struggles – because then we ride high and proud on our horses trampling over the dead, elders, children and our own broken gift of humanity, oblivious to the destruction we leave behind, as if those houses and churches and lives buried in rubble never existed, as if nothing ever happened, as if we are invincible... this makes me cry....
The botoxed face of Putin, the swollen angry grimace of X or Y, the demanding stride and swing of Will, the famed celebrities basking in their glory as nothing ever could touch them, they all feel better than ever, but Will knows he broke something sacred inside of himself... Selling to the devil brings us closer to the hell realm after all. Chris received, yielded, and named what happened. At times I feel tenderness towards the enemies of precious life and their follies... At other times I can only refuse to be seduced, bought, and used...
I definitely don't see enemies, and if needing to defend a child I might take up a gun, too, but I still could not see the enemy. I wonder… this must be my father's legacy and gift to me... And these days, having heard myself tell in a few short sentences his “story” of miraculous survival as teenager in war times – something I religiously shied away all my life – now the words want to be spoken, be dislodged from my throat, and some day perhaps appear here in written hieroglyphs…
What you write goes to the heart of how to navigate these turbulent and publicly visible violent times. I find myself on many occassions when confronted with the latest scene of violence and desecration to react with outrage and righteous anger immediately followed by wanting to hurt and punish. There is a sense of satisfaction in that but it comes at the cost, I have come to see and that you movingly evoke, of the loss of the fullness of the gift of humanity that does not reveal itself without a willingness to be moved, affected, changed by what life presents us with. Like your father, my father survived the war but on the other side. He was Jewish and escaped from a forced labor camp but lost his wife and daughter. Your invoking of your father and his legacy to you touches me deeply and guides me to my father whose largeness of spirit I feel humbled by. Your deep seeing and tenderness are an inspiration to me. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing. So here we are on opposites side: but really? The tragedy of our fathers determined by War, Holocaust, Displacement and miraculous Survival. All my life i believed we can only honor those who survived the Holocaust, or those who did not belong to a perpetrator nation. This was the practice in my family and in left leaning circles in Germany. Rightfully so after the war for the first few decades, so that the ex-Nazis or nazi sympathizers could not brag so much with their war stories.
ReplyDeleteBut by now this belief has been thoroughly pierced for me. As we start to question worldwide: does it matter who perpetrates? Victim and perpetrator are intertwined, both suffering, being killed and wounded. They are brothers and sisters, like Germans and Jews, like Russians and Ukrainians, like white and Black people in America. I have seen some deep waking-up about this in me and in parts of the culture world wide. I am utterly moved by Russians who feel guilty and complicit through their silence. Or by Ukrainians who see the confusion of some Russian soldiers. This more nuanced promises healing and lasting insight. Unlike denial, sugar coating, and ferocious condemnation, the complexity of human existence begs for being held with open heart, even or especially when bleeding. I bow deeply to all those who can live this way, like your Jewish father and my German father. Both their stories so shocking, almost not comprehensible, and yet they survived with utter humanity. How blessed we all are to have these models and ancestors. May we live up to to this legacy! May we be guided by true north.
Ja liebe Karina
ReplyDeleteIch bin dankbar für dein tiefes Fühlen und diesen Weg der Annahme der Tränen, wie auch der Klarheit im Sehen, wie auch des Weiter Atmens mit dem kompass unseres Lebens ... der Liebe.
Ein Ja zum Leben in den Zeiten der Verhärtung ....
Your brother Matthias
Matthias, i so appreciate your words! Deine Schwester Karina
ReplyDeleteI am going to translate for English speaking readers:
"Yes, dear Karina. I am thankful for your deep feeling and this path of accepting tears, as well as clarity of seeing, and the continuation of breathing with life's compass: love. A Yes to life in times of hardening... ..."