in-dependence
A few days ago we celebrated the restoration of the independence of Lithuania. It’s a country I am proud to call my motherland and I remember that day thirty-two years ago yet not super clearly. But I remember fear and uncertainty that was surrounding it for a good while. And the past few weeks I recognise this same uncertainty, anxiety and disbelief of what is going on.
There are things you (I?!) can’t be silent about. There are stories that need to be told. And with every person, I meet who travel from Ukraine, sometimes more than 10 days… I feel so cautious to share those stories though, that pain, that loss of stability, the loss of home. People put themselves into other people’s open palms. It’s a whole different conversation about trust. I heard that despair and hope have similar vibrations in our brains. I think a lot about that. About people navigating a whole new different world. I think of those people coming from cities that don’t exist anymore.
Every day I experience new stories of loss but also of creating new hope, of people coming together and doing their best in the face of brutality and terror.
Every day I do my best and it doesn’t feel enough. Every day I am also scared that people will get tired of what’s going on. People will let go and news will start reporting something else.
„La Revolution is like a great love affair. In the beginning, she is a goddess. A holy cause. But… every love affair has a terrible enemy: time. We see her as she is. La Revolution is not a goddess but a whore. She was never pure, never saintly, never perfect. And we run away, find another love, another cause. Quick, sordid affairs. Lust, but no love. Passion, but no compassion. Without love, without a cause, we are… *nothing*! We stay because we believe. We leave because we are disillusioned. We come back because we are lost. We die because we are committed.“ ~ Captain Jesus Raza (1966)
Every time I try to see through space and time. To add dimensions, to add perspectives or to totally strip them down. Life is simple and life is fragile. Through the looking glass. Because I must admit it all still feels somewhat surreal. Empty chairs are placed on the long nights. Sometimes the only prudent thing is to wait for the sun to come up.
And then every moment it looks like – nothing can surprise you anymore – croupier is tired. I switch off my thoughts and the lights. Until the sun comes up. Somehow now I know that we never get over great losses; We absorb them, and they carve us into different, often kinder, creatures. And that’s the hope. That we continue with that unified feeling, with hope. With the stories so deep and painful the only way to get rid of them is to share them.