Today I was sitting in the subway when an old man entered and sat down opposite me. He was about eighty years old, had a long, white beard and his eyes — his eyes looked like dark, blue, shining diamonds. His deep gaze pierced my body, but not in an uncomfortable manner, much more his gaze was softly stroking my soul, was calming my mind. After he noticed that I was withstanding his eye contact, with a gentle voice he asked me:
“I want to give you a present. It’s a precious present, but also it is complicated one. Only those who are able to receive will understand that present. Are you open enough to receive?“
Obviously I was thrilled to hear about that present, that was said to be understood by only a few. I felt honored that this stranger was
assessing me as a potential worthy person for his mysterious gift. He sensed my enthusiasm and went on talking:
“A long time ago, there was a vegetative, colourful planet. This planet was so small, only a few thousands of people inhabited it. The population was living like one big tribe. It was comparably peaceful and they had everything they needed. Of course they faced some problems here and there but living on this planet was enjoyable. There was only one thing that really bothered this little tribe. On one side of the planet there was a free floating red door. On that door there was a sign:
NO WAY BACK!
Every week a few inhabtiants had to go through that door, in order to make the planet last. Randomly inhabitants were chosen. They received letters from a unknown sender. One day was given to them, to say goodbye to their tribe, at the next day they had to enter the door. Nobody ever came back. Over the years the tribe became mad at this door, as it was swallowing their loved ones. Nobody knew what was behind it, but still, through the conjunction of negativity the door itself became a bad thing. Talking about it became a taboo subject, the color red became the color of badness and children were taught to behave well as they would otherwise be selected earlier to go through that door. Rumors were evolving fast — they told each other that behind that door, there is a sea of hot lava. Whoever goes through it, would burn immediately. They told each other that behind that door, there is nothing but black nothingness, whoever goes through it, would be lost in void. Slowly these rumors became history, became tradition, became truth and the tribe was living in fear of that red door. Nobody dared to go close to it.“
The old man was hesitating as he checked my attentiveness. He cleared his throat briefly and then continued:
“One day a very curious, little girl sneaked away from home. She had only heard about this red door and wasn’t sure what to think of all the creepy stories. A few meters before she got to there, she could sense the shape of a human being next that it. Terrified, she asked what the person was doing in the dark.
A pleasant, calm voice replied that she had been waiting for her. She had been waiting for her because she was brave enough not to be confused by the stories. She told the girl that all of the stories were created over time based on unknowingness. That people are afraid of not knowing and therefore invented stories to make things sound logical. The interesting thing about it was that people had built negative stories and therefore created a lifelong reason for being in fear, eventhough they didn’t even know if what’s waiting behind the door is worse than this planet. Maybe there is a far more attractive star, a star filled with infinite love.
She asked the girl to enjoy her life, even without knowing what’s hidden behind. That the girl should learn that unknowingness is not a bad thing. That it is nessecary for people to grow through facing unpredicted situations. She asked her to openly accept unknowingness. That only those who accept their own indispensable incompleteness of knowledge are able to taste the sweetness of life.“
The old guy stopped talking.
“It’s my station!”, he jumped up. Before he frantically left the subway, he shouted out to me: “Remember that story! And maybe that tribe was standing for humanity! Maybe the door was a picturization of death! Use my gift!”
Then he was gone.
