Seeing light at the end of a tunnel gives hope but no clarity.
Is a train coming? Is the light mere reflection? Is it an opening leading to rescue, success, freedom, an abyss? Is it an opening, or an obstacle?
Some are now seeing a light at the end of the tunnel. But after an intense year, saying to myself that if I do not die, I must focus on the purpose of me staying alive, the lessons have been overwhelming. Lockdowned, these have been months of daily brewing and experimenting with coffee, of creating, recreating, and trying new and old dishes, and, most of all, having intense and deep conversations with able minds and souls, day and night, at home, in Iran, Vienna, California, Warsaw, Ecuador, Berlin, Tokyo, as if I were there. It has been in complexity and simplicity a constant fountain of delights, for palate, intellect, and spirit, all during imprisonment.
Seeing a light at the end of this tunnel myself, is only secondarily a reason for the passivity of hope. In this unexpected darkness I have been sensing, digesting, delighting, and accumulating light, brightness, deep rooting and high spirits, and all I can hungrily imagine is new responsibilities in opportunities. All I see is a wise infant.
Sila Blume 