The meeting of the portals of death and love


The man in the big city had not really tasted the chocolate he ate every day, nor the sweet drinks that he was addicted to. Another day went by without talking to someone, without feeling a hug or laughing with someone, without connecting to another’s heart. The television screen was on, but he was asleep in his chair, even though one of his favourite series was showing. Many years of loneliness had drained him as the ghosts of his self-judgement had parasitized his energy, day by day, year by year, until he gave up. It can feel like a relief when you purchase the rope that can take you away from the forest of fear, the forest of hate and sorrow. He knew where he wanted to end it all, in a tree in the forest he used to play when he was a carefree child. He woke up early that morning, somehow he felt rested and oddly light-hearted, he put the rope in a bag and started to walk through the city. It was very early in the morning, so he walked undisturbed through the streets, past the kindergarten where he could remember nothing but joy, past his old school, past the house where he used to live with the family he betrayed. The smell of the forest was so clean, a breeze of fresh air filled his lungs, he saw a big oak tree and started to climb as high up as he could. He tied the rope around a thick branch, then around his neck. He was ready to jump.

The woman in the big city cleaned her house for the last time. She knew it was the last time, but still, she cleaned it meticulously, as she had done for so many years. She stopped cleaning for a minute and looked at a picture in the hallway, the one where her ex-husband and her two children were riding bicycles. She had not felt anything for years, but at this moment she started crying. Although she had been living alone for many years, looking at the pictures around the house, she had not felt anything, for so long. Knowing that this was the last time she would look at the picture, she started trembling and she talked to the picture for a while, saying her goodbyes. She woke up early the next morning, somehow she felt rested and oddly light-hearted, she calmly put on her clothes, left the house and started to walk through the city. She walked slowly, looking at the buildings that represented some memories of a distant past. She approached the forest where she used to play as a carefree child, the forest where her ex-husband had asked her to marry him. Loving memories flew towards her, like a gentle breeze of love, filling her lungs with fresh air and playing with her long, silvery grey hair. She saw the old oak tree where they used to play, she started to climb as high up as she could. She tied the rope around a thick branch, then around her neck. She was ready to jump.

They met.

It was pure love now, no regrets. The hate of the past was gone. The quarrels of divorce seemed ridiculous when they could share their experiences of loneliness and heal them through compassion and understanding. How their guilt had led them astray! They had quarrelled for so long and so violently, that both their children had eventually rejected them.

They walked through the portal of love and decided to reconnect with their children. They had experienced so much loneliness that they had become experts of the healing of loneliness. They wrote a book about the energy of guilt, how it can seclude a person from the ones they love and how television can be a false escape into a hollow world.

Most of all, they loved to play with their grandchildren, whom they had not been able to connect with in the past. Every summer they arranged a picnic next to the oak tree, with the entire family, to celebrate the entrance through the portal of love.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s