Nerveless sunlight in a troubled world

When I notice the skull of a horse lying on the arid soil, a bell is ringing. But I have not figured out anything yet. All I know that it is bloody hot. And that I am surrounded by endless dunes with viciously sharp sand. The grains of sand are now already in my eyes, my nostrils, my ears, my hair, my clothes, my thoughts.

But despite the barren conditions, I am still cheerful and optimistic. Recently I have experienced for the first time in my life what it means to be a free human being. I always thought that freedom had to do with a lot of money, a lot of stuff, a lot of friends. But I have discovered my feeling of liberty mainly has to do with the disappearance of brutal fear. The raw desperation of not living up to the expectations of family, your comrades, your colleagues, your sports friends. So that everything you do is always seen through the eyes of someone else. As a matter of fact, your entire existence revolves around one ultimate question: am I doing it right?

That is why I am still smiling. For the first time in my life, I am satisfied with myself. Even though the sun is now burning on my skin like an iron. Even though my throat is as dry as second-hand sandpaper. That is why I glide through this landscape like a camel. Because I hope so. That there will be some signage visible at some point in time. It means, I will figure out to which direction I should walk. But in the meantime, I am lost. To make matters worse, my phone is as dead as a piece of rock (I forgot to charge it last night).

If the horse skull (donkey? camel? mule?) was a bad omen, when I discover the complete skeleton of a human being lying next to some large boulders, I feel terrified. There is no doubt about it anymore. I am definitely off road. I look around. Scared, shriveled. What do I expect? That someone in a robust Jeep will come and rescue me from this dire situation? But all what happens is that the wind is blowing harder. And those razor-sharp grains of sand are cutting my soft cheeks. As if the heat and the drought are not enough.

All at once, all my positive thoughts and ideas have disappeared. All those latent feelings of happiness, all those tranquil dreams, they have made way for the feeling I know so well. Despondency. Is this a rebuke? Because I thought I had found some freedom? Does the Universe immediately punish me for this? Because the basic feeling for a human being should mainly be fear and panic?

In all my dejection, I scan the naked surroundings to see if I can spot anything that resembles a tree or a bush. At least a living thing. You sometimes read that in stories. How the hero gets lost in an endless wilderness and then - no one expects it anymore – he still finds an oasis. Soft water, rustling trees, friendly people who offer him drinks, fresh bread, and a protected and cool shelter.

But all I can do is to hit a innocent boulder ferociously and mercilessly with a loose donkey bone. Like I am an angry Moses. Like am I supposed to lead of thirsty followers across the desert. But honestly, do I really expect water to flow from the stone mass?

How did it get to this point? What happened this morning that I took the wrong turn. Was I daydreaming? Does this happen to people who don't live in reality? People who believe they no longer have any fear and have the bravery and heart to start to travel around the globe. To explore another world. To uncover new friends, new cultures, new ideas, new songs, new vistas.

Should I have stayed at home? Close to the fireplace, even closer to the refrigerator filled with sweet drinks and fresh fruit? And as a consequence, nothing can happen to me. Life flows past me like a dreamy duck on a sleepy river. From behind my window, I can see the heroes, the failures, the prophets, the rebels, the dreamers, the inventors, the adventurers, the fantasists, the artists, the researchers passing by as if in a procession of fools. How I simply smile at their efforts. Their trial and error. Their sweat, blood and tears. Their silence, their screams, their shudder, their disgust. While I'm in the kitchen slicing loaves of bread, spreading it with butter, cheese and strawberry jam. While hearing the coffee dripping in the machine.

If I would believe the worse is over, I am being disappointed. The strong wind silently turns into an intense storm. Where before the sand only fluttered through the air, now it rushes past my thin body, past the giant boulders. As if it has something to prove. But what ? What good does this hurricane do? What is the meaning of it?

And while the sand my body covers like wet snow, I feel an intense anger rising. Do I deserve this? I, who have faced so many setbacks in my life. I who fell from wobbly wooden bridges, fell into ravines, got drowned in raging rivers, prayed to unknown gods to be rescued and anyway got devoured by hungry crocodiles,

And now I have to end like this? To be smothered by stupid desert sand? To die in no man's land? Like a nullity, a parvenu, a small potato? Like I never have existed. Like my life is as valuable as an advertising brochure, an empty plastic shampoo bottle.

"IS THIS MY REWARD? IS THIS THE WAY TO SHOW YOUR APPRECIATION FOR PEOPLE WHO WANT TO BE DIFFERENT? FOR THOSE WHO DON’T WANT TO TAKE THE BEATEN TRACKS? FOR THOSE BRAVE AND COURAGEOUS PEOPLE WHO WANTS TO DISCOVER NEW HORIZONS THROUGH TUMBLING AND FALLING?”

The sand scratches my throat. I taste warm blood. By expressing my displeasure to the gods, I also realize at the same time how senseless, how helpless this outburst of rage is. If anyone should be to blame for the predicament, I find myself in, it is myself.

I fall to the scorching hot rocky ground. The wind roars, the grains of sand lash my body. But I do not really care anymore. I give up. It's been enough. This is one setback too many. After all, I'm only human. Admittedly, a unique person with resilience, with fearlessness. But also, an earthborn with disappointment, with despair, with chagrin, with pain. And the latter is what I especially feel at the moment. I want nothing more than to close my eyes, my thoughts, my desires. To go to sleep. For good. So that in the end there is nothing left of me but a pile of disconsolate sand.

“Hey, sleepyhead! Wake up! I cannot keep waiting!”

The thin sand is wiped from my face and when I open my eyes, I see the fat lips of a bus driver. I recognize the uniform he is wearing. I scramble to my feet, shaking the grains of sand from my clothes. The wind has died down, the sun is shining pleasantly in the sky. Daylight falls like a white sheet over the silent desert.

A yellow bus is standing beyond the enormous boulders. I hear the bubbling sound of an idling engine. The bus driver trudges to the bus stop. I did not notice that before. But there is unmistakably a red brick waiting booth in this desert together with a board with the arrival and departure times. How could I miss them before?

I rub my eyes. This is not a mirage, is it? But when I hear the driver's grumbling, I'm sure I'm not dreaming. Still a little stiff from lying on the solid surface, I stumble to the bus. I'll sit in the front.

“Am I the only passenger?” The man looks aside for a moment. His face speaks volumes. It is the dumbest question he has heard in years. But why? Since when do buses run in a desert? And how did he know that there was someone under that lump of sand?

“I became a father two months ago,” says the driver as he continues to focus on the dusty road. “To be honest, it was not really my plan to have a child. I loved my old life. You know, a little work, some travelling, an occasional drink in the pub. I thought it was a nice way of living. But how does that work? My wife managed to convince me some way. And now that we have our baby? I am the happiest man in the world. Her bright eyes, her babbling, her first laugh. That new life reminds me of whatever is still somewhere left in me. That wonder, the amazement, the curiosity. But you lose it so quickly, don't you? You readily become a kind of zombie who staggers through his own life, who wanders around in his rigid safe space, stupidly and confused. Apparently happy. But actually dulled, terrified, desperate like a broken statue in a leaky shed.”

And as we drive into the city in the late daylight, I already feel again something of a rebellious spirit tingling in my body.