Panorama (69 page)

The situation for humankind is everywhere the same, particularly if one looks at the world for what it is, with all its surface illusions, which indeed have their own reality, since they are tied to the outer and inner conditions of humanity on many levels. Even if you look beyond such illusions and manage to avert them, the heart cannot ignore them and indeed knows, despite it not being to its advantage, that it must still take joy in and suffer these illusions, its despair and resignation growing ever deeper, there being no way out but to face matters as best you can. No one escapes the tragic, even when it’s forgotten for a moment, which is what looking is for, consciousness emptying itself as one looks on, while in contrast that which is suffered, and which functions as an image to be taken in by other viewers, serves the purpose of letting you know that you don’t experience pleasure and agony alone. This is a conception of man as observer and observed, as subject and object of the panorama, though it is only an illusion, for in fact what occurs to one and what one grasps, or at a minimum what one perceives,
is that there is no longer any panorama, it appearing to have disappeared amid a series of alternating and penetrating movements and actions, it indeed having done just that. However, isn’t it obvious that the individual remains cut off from his surroundings despite such a process, if in fact he has not been killed? If indeed a man survives and can look at himself the way others do, then Josef’s idea of the panorama prevails, namely that one can see others but never reach them.

On these assumptions, even if they didn’t know it, great thinkers have based their teachings, though they have never admitted it to themselves or to the world, or so Josef thinks, though he recognizes a great flaw in his thinking, as it is undeniable that human beings form relationships in which they do indeed come together with another, the panorama dissolved which was nothing but an illusion, though Josef still doubts that the borders between people can be dissolved, there always being something to prevent a seamless merger, there being no such thing as a complete union, for that would amount to a murder, the only exception being connections that are formed through media, and that is something imperfect, the media is the equipment, the machinery, the mechanism of the panorama. The panorama is the mediator that is inserted between human beings. That which cannot pass from one being into another is the body of life, the construction of the panorama. The world itself is a panorama and remains always in opposition to that which names itself, that which knows itself, that which wishes to assert itself and which also perhaps asserts what it is. Thus in life there is a dualism in which the panorama constitutes matter and essence constitutes spirit. Essence never entirely becomes matter, and matter is never essence, they being finally beyond each other’s grasp, the one remaining estranged and distant from the other. Therefore it is the task of matter to hinder a complete union. Both principles transcend each other, alienating humankind, preventing each other from triumphing as long as life goes on. Yet this principle is not satisfied with just being true in itself. It plants as well an unshakable bitterness in one’s essence, causing it to be consumed by fear and unable to know how to insert itself into the panorama. One realizes that every attempt by oneself or anyone else to gain a foothold in the construction of the panorama can only lead to pain. No kind of idealistic or materialist philosophy is of help here, for philosophy certainly cannot solve the
puzzle and cannot point toward any way of avoiding the conflict or solving it. Neither type of system can escape some falsification of the facts, they having instead to proceed violently when they encounter insurmountable obstacles, namely that reality does not adapt itself to what the teachings want it to be.

Theoretically one could ponder the possibility of some kind of synthesis between both systems, but the moment reality refuses to bend, any such synthesis becomes moot. The nature of reality will only tolerate the existence of both principles next to each other. This is a not a solution but rather a resolution that allows the understanding of both principles, and yet it gives rise to the vital question of how both principles can be reconciled in order to resolve the conflict between them. Josef wonders whether both principles can be followed along parallel lines, perhaps each developing on its own, or whether there is an unknown principle, something not yet in existence, that would indeed allow for a synthesis or another solution, though such a third principle could not be squared with reality and the world as it is. Only the supposition of God and his intervention could support a belief in the possibility of conquering or changing the world as it is. By this Josef doesn’t wish to feed the nonsense of commonly held beliefs about religion, for their conclusions give the lie to their assumptions. Such religion has produced no findings that cannot be found by other means. And such religiosity has mangled the genuine problem at the heart of religion, especially when it proffers a solution, but not a method of fulfillment that allows for a way to break through reality as it has always been conceived. This is why everyday religion ties its promises to death. It remains separate from life, insofar as it calls itself a religion, which then remains hidden behind each deeply mystical saying. Above all, religion has never addressed humanity seriously in itself but has always addressed the individual, which isn’t enough, especially when so much is promised in this manner. That is why everyday religion is just another image in the panorama, and—how monotonously repetitive!—images remain out of reach, they being simply seen and experienced but never reached.

Who knows of any way out? The view presents itself, but it’s better not to attend to it, it for once needing to be enough, perhaps being different outside, one forgetfulness able to exchange with another forgetfulness,
everything immediately there when the view changes as it grants the feeling of life, there being no need to speak any more of difficulty. It is good not to be naïve, even though one holds the fool’s cap at the ready nonetheless, Josef needing only to think back a bit when there was the emperor with his white beard, the last year of the war when Josef was still living at home, everything taken care of for him, he not knowing why he had to take part, no one having asked him, as he indeed was a part of a surround. That’s the way things were thirty years ago, then came the tender lovely days in Umlowitz, intimate and peaceful relations followed by the time in The Box, the first difficult trials popping up, it soon becoming clear on what track history was traveling. Then for the first time Josef felt discord with what he experienced, but no one asked him what he felt, just as no one ever asked him about anything, for that is the way it was—the way it is—certainly a shallow, indeed a horrifying, irrefutable truth, nor does it help that he wanted it to be different in order to pursue a dreamed-of better world, one such as he enjoyed in hiking and camping with the Wanderers, for there he felt himself among others like him whom he thought he understood and felt a part of during that time of naïve pride, each day filled with cheerfulness. It had been a long time since he felt that, the happy gatherings having become meager affairs, most of the boys having quit the troop, the hiking club having disbanded, after which Josef found himself filled with a conscious pride, as he began to read and ponder matters continuously, the unattainable seeming near with the figure of Johannes, who meant something before Josef’s rising distrust, while most of the members of Johannes’s circle demonstrated how something marvelous could so easily dissolve into the shallow and the ridiculous, though once you left the tower you entered a hopelessly disturbed world, its chaos sweeping over you. Josef wanted to take on such a world on his own, but there was no escaping it, thus causing him to be consumed by the worst kind of self-deception, for even if it were possible to help himself through such deception it did not please him for long, because as soon as the years arrived that led the way to the Second World War oppression returned to the country, the handling of individual people often manifesting itself as crass and senseless, it not mattering what he did, fate had already begun to play with him, taking charge of him, he having been taken charge of. Now all that is over, though even this can be a
deception, especially if Josef remains undisturbed by it all as he rests in the castle park at Launceston.

And so Josef sleeps, there being nothing at the moment to prod him to do anything special, he able to move around as he pleases, no neighbor fighting with him over space, or anyone approaching him to order, “Josef, get up, get a shovel and dig your own grave!” The brothers had not strangled him, so that they could say that an evil animal had eaten him, but instead they had sold him into slavery, though this is only a dream from a bad source of dreams, it is all over, there are no ignoble brothers here who want to throw him into a ditch in the middle of the desert, there being no one who comes, no voice raised, no glance that threatens, no nod of warning, no one in Launceston who wants to control him, just a few rules that are not at all burdensome to follow. Josef is completely alone, no one wants to cut his hair, no one creeps up from behind and hits him on the neck with a gnarled stick, it being wonderful and unbelievable how peacefully everything goes. That’s why it’s good that in front of the dungeon the wreath in honor of the Quaker elder hangs, it guarding against the unexpected outbreak of something awful, though indeed the Conqueror had also tossed wreaths to his dead accomplices without accomplishing anything good, though here it seems to help, since it’s been so many years since Cromwell held his prisoner George Fox in Launceston, memory having accumulated a great deal of time that had come to fruition. For indeed the climate is mild, there being nowhere else that such a soft rain can fall, tiny silver drops descending from breathlike clouds, falling softly and soundlessly, not even bending a single blade of grass.

Now Josef is free, he can pass the time in the castle park in Launceston, though he doesn’t need to invoke his right to do so, he knows that he has permission to enjoy the sweeping view, to rest here, to feel the blessing of sleep, the grace, the freedom, the grace and the freedom that appear to be two names for one thing. Maybe grace is the third principle that mediates between the principles of essence and matter, grace surpassing all else in the world, it being not an earthly but a godly principle, and no way to philosophize about it, since nothing can be known of grace and its freedom, they possessing neither time nor space, though grace and freedom transcend essence and matter, and are not the same as either of them. The nature of
grace and freedom is a miracle, which is why there is less grace and freedom in the world than there are miracles. For, indeed, when is the third principle grace and when is it freedom? Josef considers two aspects of the answer, one that is neither human nor worldly, while the other is both human and worldly. That which is not worldly, and therefore beyond life’s realm, conceives of the principle as absolute freedom, which then becomes grace in its resolve to flow forth into life. By the world and by humans this principle is experienced as grace, as it imparts a measure of freedom, though that is not absolute freedom, for it is never more than the measure of grace that has been dispensed. That’s why freedom and the measure of freedom in the world are not definable, for the measure of grace cannot be calculated, though certainly there is no freedom without grace. In this sense life is never completely without or completely filled with grace, since even in such extreme cases life is presumably nothing more, indeed cannot be anything other than, what we conceive it to be. Josef believes that even a minimum amount of grace would be able to almost completely dissolve the contradiction between the two worldly principles of matter and essence. The possible connection of two individual essences would be something more difficult to bring about or would be virtually nullified, for essences could no longer connect with one another through matter, because the latter would likely drown the former, thus ending all confraternity.

The spiritual principle can give rise to grace in life when some kind of freedom exists between essences, though one cannot conjure grace but, at best, invoke it, and there is no guarantee that any prayer will be met with measurable success. Every attempt to control the principle of freedom in the world is an undertaking that attempts to attain the unattainable. That is, of course, impossible, for freedom cannot be demanded, nor is there anything that can give rise to grace, even if perhaps some kinds of behavior are better suited to grace, deigning to make more of an appearance in life than do other behaviors. But such talk is blasphemous and has more to do with merit and good deeds than makes sense, since grace hearkens only to its own freedom and relates only to a pure belief in the good deeds of human beings. Nevertheless, Josef thinks, the essence of the world can assume the existence of an array of fundamentals—or at least has to—as, indeed, it’s not an illusion or a contradiction to think that laws were once formed that require
humankind’s adherence to certain customs. When fulfilled in the right spirit they lead to blessing, while violating them leads to nothing but trouble. People should know this, but they forget and don’t want to know. In the history of humankind, hardly any trace of freedom has ever manifested itself without there also being some form of subjugation alongside it.

Josef feels that his thinking is approaching the limits of what is permissible, but he also believes that he is alive only because of an act of grace, and to him it seems that the grace experienced by an individual cannot exist without limitations. Since man is an individual, he cannot experience the grace of another. Therefore the freedom of the individual is always more limited than the grace afforded a community or a people, whereby the freedom that courses through all of its members in unknowable measures is made manifest, while the grace experienced by the individual can indeed have an effect on the world, though it remains undefined. The individual is created in the same way as all of his fellow beings, which is why each person and all people and presumably the entire world are accountable, he being an accessory to everything that happens in the world, in much the same way that he wants to be a part of any of the benefits accrued in the world. Josef thinks a dangerous temptation exists when a person presumes that he enjoys a personal grace or even believes that grace involves some kind of merit, for when this occurs grace immediately retreats from human beings. No one can possess grace, no one has a right to grace. To any claim a human being might raise, grace is always something ancillary, and no being would exist or have the right to exist if treated according to its merits, even if he thinks he has a right to it. Grace has no measure, since it cannot be measured in terms of the freedom that it grants, though it ebbs and flows at the discretion of freedom.