The Wish for Peace

My flat in Cologne looks out onto a large car park. Part of it is the back of a supermarket. That is where the rubbish bins stand too, the ones into which spoiled food and food not yet spoiled but past its expiry date are disposed of. Two and a half years ago I regularly saw people in the mornings rummaging through the bins. Usually two of them. Sometimes three. Today, when I get up early and draw the curtains aside in my bedroom, I see seven or eight people at the far end of the square searching for food.

One or two climb into the containers and pass food with long arms to the others, who stand around and wait. Peace. Yes. Inner peace. In Bhutan there is a right to happiness, an index: Gross National Happiness. In 2017 the Pirate Party demanded the same for Germany. In Buddhism it is said: by looking at the poor and the homeless you can tell the state of health of a society.

When I look out of my window in the mornings and gaze into the yard, I see how sick our society is. And how, over the last two and a half years, it has risen from two or three to eight people searching the bins.

The number of people who simply lie in the streets, no longer even homeless people who sit beside a sign and beg for money, no, people who simply lie motionless in broad daylight in the main shopping streets, has exploded. I have started to photograph the phenomenon, and pinned a post to my Facebook page. The image is meant to become visible, I think. And yet many close their eyes to it. But then, what can one do?

On an afternoon in summer I hear aggressive shouting in the car park behind my house. A man, not overly concerned with his outer appearance, but not conspicuously neglected either, is sitting on a stone step in front of a metal roller shutter and is shouting aggressively – sometimes to himself, sometimes at passers-by and residents going by. Beside him stands his rucksack, in front of him a bottle of beer. In his fingers he holds papers and tobacco and rolls himself a cigarette. He is one of the many who, on the margins of society, spend most of their time on the street. „This is all shit! Just stop it! Stop it! Shit!“ There is no visible reason for his aggression, none on the part of the passers-by either. He is simply churned up inside.

I am sitting at my workplace in front of the window. The laptop is open. I search for the song „Peace“ by Ajeet Kaur. Then I press „Play“ and connect the computer to the speaker so that it plays loudly. I stand up and open the window. The yard carries sound well. I know that the music will echo across to him. From my window I watch to see whether there is any reaction. Yes, the man grows calmer. While the song plays, he is quiet and no longer shouts and rolls his cigarette in peace. Another man even comes over from the direction of the bins, they talk, I cannot hear about what, then the one sitting on the step digs around in his rucksack and gives the other man a beer.

I have grown sensitive over the last two years to hatred, resentment and aggression. And my impression is that the majority in our frightened, hemmed-in and divided country long for connectedness and inner peace.

No fear. No panic. No longer having to worry. Surely there are some who want turmoil and who provoke it. But regardless of political stance, I believe that what has happened in Germany in recent years moves the whole country.

In my play „Geistige Gefangenschaft” I write:

„It is no longer the country I know. It is no longer the country in which I grew up. It has become a foreign country.

I do not know why I wanted to play the song to the man in the yard. Why I thought I could create peace and give it away for a moment. Perhaps it was only my emotion at his aggressive shouting. Perhaps the thought: „Cool down, my friend. Everything is fine.“

I will never know for certain. And perhaps it was simply an attempt …

But that is life, after all. Every day, trying …

Our society, at any rate, is sick. Mentally, spiritually, morally. We have lost ourselves, split ourselves off, fallen once again into hatred and agitation. We could all do with a little more inner peace again. The members of parliament especially. And all of us would need, deep inside, to feel ourselves a little more again.

What do we really want?

I am glad, when I look in the mirror, to recognise: hatred, agitation, going along with the crowd and obedience have thankfully remained foreign to me over the last two and a half years. I did not join in.

And I find that, if we honestly ask ourselves the question of the state of health of our society, these words by Jiddu Krishnamurti are at the moment the most fitting description:

It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society.