We Cry

Wir weinen (we cry). Outpourings of a different kind, in German and in English.

Wir weinen. Ohne Tränen weinen wir, durch Erkenntnis zu Stein erstarrt. Die Zeit spült über uns hinweg, ein stetiger Strom. Er spült die Ecken rund und ebnet die Furchen und Kanten. Wir verschwinden, lösen uns auf. Der Himmel vergießt rote Tränen, ein Strom von Blut, das aus den Wolken quillt. Wer blutet? Im Panzerhemd reiten wir in die Schlacht, jeden Tag eine neue Schlacht, jeden Tag ein neuer Feind. Und zugleich immer derselbe, wir kennen ihn und doch erkennen wir ihn nicht. Er tötet unsere Seelen durch Kälte. Wir erfrieren in Gleichgültigkeit. Wir ersticken in Stille, denn wir haben unsere Stimme verloren. Oder haben wir sie nie gefunden? Wir kämpfen ohne Aussicht, doch wir kämpfen um uns. Wer aufgibt, hat verloren. Wer aufgibt, ist verloren. Verliert sich oder findet sich nie. Wer sind wir? Wir sind die Kinder dieser Welt, die Kinder Gottes, die Kinder der Tränen. Wir kommen aus dem Nebel, aus dem Vergessen und doch dürfen wir nicht vergessen. Erinnern ist leben, ohne Vergangenheit haben wir keine Zukunft. Wir sind die Zukunft und die Vergangenheit, das Gestern, das Heute und das Morgen zugleich. Und doch sind wir nichts. Wir sind ewig und vergänglich, wir sind Licht und Dunkel. Wir sind und doch sind wir nicht. Alles strömt, fließt, gleitet und wir mit ihm. Wir wissen nicht, wohin wir gehen. Wir sind viele und doch sind wir allein, jeder mit sich, jeder für sich, gefangen in sich selbst, gefangen vor sich selbst. 

Wir sind Krieger und Bekriegte, sind Leben und Tod. Wir sind Blinde und doch können wir sehen. Wir sind Sehende und doch sind wir blind. Unsere Seele verbrennt, aus Angst zu erfrieren. Feuer und Eis leben in unserer Brust. Wir sind Gottes Tränen, zum Leben erwacht. Wir wollen lieben und doch lieben wir nicht. Wir wollen nicht hassen und doch hassen wir. Wir sind alle anders und doch alle gleich. Was uns trennt, verbindet uns. Was uns verbindet, trennt uns. Wir sind Wasser und Luft, wir sind Meer und Sturm. Wir sind Anker und Segel, Fleisch und Schwert. Wir verletzen die anderen und mit ihnen uns. Auf der Erde verwurzelt schweben wir über den Wolken, zerissen. Unser stummer Schrei hallt über die Erde, doch wir hören uns nicht. Das Leid macht uns taub und der Schmerz macht uns stumm. Wir drehen die Messer in den Wunden, jeden Tag. Wir wollen die Welt verändern, aber nicht uns. Die Erde zuckt und bebt und die Verzweiflung brennt tiefe Furchen auf ihrem Weg ins Meer. Jemand steht uns im Weg. Wer ist es? Wir erkennen ihn nicht, denn sein Gesicht ist im Nebel verborgen. Er wendet sich ab und verschwindet. Wir selbst sind es. Wir wollen alles wissen, nur nicht, wer wir sind. Angst fesselt die Träume und erwürgt uns von innen. Wenn die Träume sterben, sterben wir mit ihnen.  Ein Eiszapfen im Herz schwelt mit kalter Glut. Wut ist wie Feuer, das verzehrt, Liebe wie Feuer, das wärmt. Gleichgültigkeit macht die Herzen taub und blind, wir bemerken den Hass nicht mehr, wir bemerken das Leid nicht mehr und nicht den Schmerz. Wir sind die Kinder der Freude und der Trauer. Hinter uns die Wüste und vor uns das Meer kämpfen wir verbissen für unser Paradies. Zu oft kämpfen wir gegen Verbündete und der Feind lacht, genährt durch Demütigung und Blut. Wenn wir das andere hassen, hassen wir uns. Hass vergiftet und Gleichgültigkeit erstickt. Wir kommen aus dem Nebel, doch wohin gehen wir? Ins Licht oder ins Dunkel? Wir sind die Kinder der Tränen. Tränen der Verzweiflung oder Tränen der Freude?

We cry. Without tears we cry, turned to stone by realization. Time washes over us, a continuous stream. It smoothes corners until they are round and evens out grooves and sharp edges. We disappear, dissolve. The sky is shedding red tears, a stream of blood oozing out of the clouds. In a coat of mail we ride into battle, every day a new battle, every day a new enemy. And at the same time always the same one, we know him but we don’t recognize him. He kills our souls with coldness. We freeze to death through indifference. We suffocate in silence, we have lost our voice. Or have we never found it? We fight without a prospect, but we fight for ourselves. She who gives up has lost. She who gives up is lost. Loses herself or never finds herself. Who are we? We are the children of this world, the children of god, the children of tears. We come from fog, from oblivion, but we are not allowed to forget. Remembering is life, no future without past. We are the future and the past, simultaneously yesterday, today, and tomorrow. And still we are nothing. We are eternal and ephemeral, we are light and darkness. We are and yet we are not. Everything flows, streams, floats, and we with it. We don’t know where we are going. We are many, and still we are alone, everyone with herself, everyone for herself, imprisoned within herself, imprisoned before herself. We are attackers and attacked, life and death. We are blind and yet we see. We are seeing and yet we are blind. Our souls burn, for fear of freezing to death. Fire and ice live in our chest. We are god’s tears come to life. We want to love and yet we don’t love. We don’t want to hate and yet we hate. We are all different and yet we are all the same. What separates us, connects us. What connects us, separates us. We are water and air, sea and storm. We are anchor and sail, flesh and sword. We hurt others and with them ourselves. Rooted in earth, we float above the clouds. Our silent screams echo across the earth, but we do not hear ourselves. Suffering makes us deaf and pain makes us mute. We turn the knife in the wound everyday. We want to change the world, but not ourselves. The earth twitches and trembles and desperation burns deep grooves on her way to the ocean. Someone is standing in our way. Who is it? We do not recognize him, his face is hidden in the fog. He turns and disappears. He is us. We want to know everything except who we are. Fear shackles our dreams, and chokes us from within. When dreams die, we die with them. An icicle in the heart smolders with cold embers. Rage is like fire that consumes, love like fire that warms. Indifference makes the hearts deaf and blind, we no longer notice the hate, we no longer notice the suffering, or the pain. We are the children of joy and sorrow. Behind us the desert, in front of us the sea, we doggedly fight for our paradise. Too often we battle our allies, and the enemy laughs, nourished by humiliation and blood. When we hate the other, we hate ourselves. Hate poisons and indifference suffocates. We come from the fog, but where are we going? Into the light or into the darkness? We are the children of tears. Tears of desperation or tears of joy? 

"I'd Rather Be A Hammer Than A Nail" ...

When did we come to live in a world where empathy is equated with weakness? Where caring is seen as irrational and somehow inferior? And what does it mean for us to live in a world like that?

Our beliefs and convictions about the world shape how we see it, and consequently also how it is. In other words, we create, in a very real sense, the world we live in. If we believe it to be a hostile place, where you have to take advantage of others, or be taken advantage of, that is the kind of place it will be. If we think that you have to be ruthless and selfish to be successful, that is how it will be. If we think that being successful means taking as much as we can from as many others as we can, that will become the reality we face. This is the purest self-fulfilling prophecy there is. 

A little while ago I encountered, in the deepest depths of the internet, a discussion about humanity's deepest fear. People were discussing what we, as a species, were most afraid of. Answers included the usual suspects: death, the unknown, fear. The more I thought about it, the more convinced I became that we are, in fact, most afraid of vulnerability. To make yourself vulnerable means to give someone else the power to hurt you. It means to give someone else power, period. And given the world we have created for ourselves, we can reasonably expect that the others will use that power against us. Every time you tell someone about your fears and insecurities, you risk them using that knowledge against you. To throw your words back in your face, to put a finger in the wound when you least expect it, because you have just told them where it hurts the most, where that chink in your armor is located.

I remember a friend telling me how she ended a relationship because she feared that her boyfriend was about to break up with her, and she wanted to be the one doing the breaking up. She did not want to be the nail. I remember years of holding in my feelings, afraid that if I expressed them, the people I cared about would no longer like me, or that they would use the insights into my soul to hurt and manipulate me. To some extent, we all wear a mask, in a desperate attempt to remain in control. It is ironic, in a way, that so many of us seem to strive for intimacy of some kind, for a connection with another being, while at the same time being terrified of allowing ourselves to be seen in our flawed vulnerability. That is why we posture. We put on a show. We succumb to "peer pressure". We tell our young men to "man up". We are ashamed of tears. We distrust. Not too long ago, I was riding on the bus. After most of the other passengers had disembarked, and only a few of us remained, a woman asked me if I had a cell phone. My first reaction was to say no, because I thought of all the instances that are reported in the news where people are taken advantage of. They allow a stranger to use their phone only to have their phone stolen. They take out their wallet to give someone change only to have that person grab the wallet and run of. So I said, no, I don't think I have my phone with me. And then I thought: is that really the kind of world you want? A world where, if you ask someone for a small favor, they will automatically say no, because they expect you to take advantage of their kindness. And so I changed my mind. I told the woman I would check and see if my phone was in my backpack. I let her use the phone to make a call. And nothing bad happened to me - quite the contrary.

Some of the indifference we see towards the immense suffering of humans and non-humans is certainly due simple complacency - life is easier if we don't stop to contemplate the consequences of our actions. Some of it is due to a sort of denial that allows us to continue living in a profoundly inhumane system with our soul intact. And some of it is due to our misperception of what it means to be strong. Our whole system is built on the exploitation of the vulnerable - the "weak" - humans, and especially non-humans. We tell ourselves that we have a right to exploit, torture, and kill millions of non-human animals simply because we can. Because we are "stronger" than they are. But isn't kindness and compassion the greatest form of strength, in a world where empathy is equated with weakness?

Does this mean that we should trust blindly? Bare our heart and soul for everyone to see? Let people use and abuse us time and again? No. It simply means that maybe we can imagine a world where we don't have to choose between being a hammer or being a nail. A world where we can be neither. And maybe we can try to create that world, by overcoming our fear of being vulnerable - and by not taking advantage of those who dare to be vulnerable in our presence.