Life is too short for boring stories

It was like a raid. In the morning the sun had shone, without any obstacle the world lit up, so that they could let their eyes wander far. She was calm and composed, the environment that in her eyes was the world, or at least the part of the world in which they now felt at home, working and making direct contact with them. The people around them, the animals they cared for and which cared for them too, because an encounter is never one-sided. The encounter between human and non-human animals is preceded by the decisive factor in the case of human beings alone. It is always unique. Of course, you only see it when you want to see it, but it is. When an animal turns and takes confidence, it comes to you and expresses it. If it turns away, then in all clarity. It does not ask for things like courtesy or commitment, it’s how it is. And he lacks the words that lead to misunderstandings. It only has its body to express what it wants. It is sufficient. Not that man should now renounce words and resort to mere body language, but he should strive to approximate his words to the unambiguity of the unspoken. How often do we act against our own words? How often do our words libel our true convictions? How often do we hide and surround each other with a cloud of words that is little more than water-heavy air? Sound and smoke, without fire?

The world shone through the sun, and then the fog came, broke in, and the sun’s rays did not penetrate. You know it’s there, somewhere behind the fog, behind the clouds, but it’s as if it did not exist. The fog engulfs the surrounding world and limits our field of vision to the few that immediately surround us. We know that the world does not go away just because we do not see it, but yet our approach seems reduced and restricted. We are afraid to lose ourselves when we go into this fog.

“The fog takes our view. I cannot even recognize the stable when I look out the window,” Uwe said as he spotted the spectacle in front of the window just as they sat together to drink tea.
“Not even the Christmas tree is visible. Everything as swallowed as gone down,” said Magdalena.
“Are the animals well on the pasture?”, Maria asked suddenly.
“They’re fine,” answered the Nazl, as if there was no other option.
“Why are you so sure?”, Maria therefore continued.
“Because they know their safety. Around them the fence, which protects them from unpleasant visitors. They do not think that disappears just because it lies in the fog. It is like it is. Only man trusts too much in what he sees or what he is shown,” the Nazl explained.
“What do you mean, what is shown to him?”, Uwe interjected.
“It is quite simple,” replied the Nazl, “First, everything is done to put a thing in the right light. It is brightly lit with headlamps, and what happens to all around when there are extremely strong headlights in the middle of it that outshine everything? ”
“It sinks into darkness,” said Maria logically.
“And so we see only what we should see,” the Nazl continued, “We do not ask about the circumstances, about what happened before, about the cause. Our thinking is deliberately fogged. If we let it. ”
“And there is another story to each story that preceded it. We do not ask, because we do not see,” Maria added, “And yet, I can understand it, because I feel like I’m locked up, as if I could never leave this place, because in the fog the disorientation lurks. If I dare to enter, then I am locked in, everything looks the same. I have no way to find any clues that told me where I am. It looks like a downfall.”
“That’s how it should be,” said the Nazl. “You should be lashed in your house. It’s not the fog out there, it’s just there and disappearing again, but the fog we’re getting into more and more, causing the world’s recognition to shrink more and more. Nebulized with dubious beliefs that are anchored in our thinking much more sustainable than the dogmatists could ever have done with theirs. So we are told that we have to make money.”

“Well, that’s necessary, too, in a work-sharing economy,” interjected Uwe.
“Of course, just as society, the economy is built, it is necessary, but it is more than just making a living,” said the Nazl, “It’s about our individual contribution to gross national product, it’s about keeping our economy running to keep. Because only those who work, can consume, and only when consumed, there are also jobs, and only when there are jobs, we can work and only when we work, we can consume and always so on. It lights up us. It shines on everyone. Because it’s so easy, clear, obvious and clean. But we like to overlook the fact that the world has changed, because these beliefs are no longer compatible with the modern world.”
“Because the work is getting less and less?”, Uwe asked.
“No, not work gets less, because there is so much to do. More and more children are leaving. More and more old people are left to their fate. More and more people in need of care are simply deported. More and more mentally ill people are simply sedated,” summed up the Nazl, “What is getting less, that is the kind of work that is recognized as such, because it is understood only more paid work. If a mother takes care of her child, that is a nice pastime at best. But if the mother gives her child to a childminder who does exactly the same job, then it is recognized work because it earns money and raises GDP. If a woman cares for her mother, then that’s her private pleasure and she’ll see how she copes with it, but if the mother is nursed in a home, then it’s just real work, even though the care benefits are the same. On the other hand, we have rationalized so much work away that we are forcing many people into a kind of gainful employment that allows them to survive. But they have neither the time nor the strength to ask if it would not be otherwise. Every single order at Zalando endangers a workplace in the trade and forces the saleswoman into one as a warehouse worker, for which much less has to be paid. That’s what’s not considered old-fashioned. And so we willingly intervene as a little cog in the big machinery of the modern, labor-sharing economy.”
“And let’s more and more obscure the brain,” added Maria.
“It’s just like the fog out there,” Magdalena said, “Even though we believe that the fog absorbs and devours everything, it can be, if we were to take a few steps, that after only a few Meters again brightness is that there is another way behind the fog wall.”
“How long have I been hiding behind my own smoke screen and not wanting to see the sun,” Maria said thoughtfully, “all I had to do was take a few steps to find the world around the sun. Maybe it takes a small push to risk it, this step into the fog. ”
There was no doubt who had given this impetus.

The next time they looked out of the window, the fog was about to dissolve and the world became visible again, just as it always was. And the weaving boat was eager to add a new series to the Web image of life. And it was the evening of the twenty-first Advent.

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