The furniture van stopped halfway. We took a break at a rest area. I got out along with the removal men. I was freshly separated from my wife, and was suffering from the parting and loneliness. We spoke about partnership, separation and the resulting house moves. “You know why me and my wife get along so well?” asked the removal man. “Because we hardly ever see each other.”
She complained about the neighbours’ children who were talking too loudly in the corridor between the flats. She complained that the staircase had been cleaned with a three day delay last week. She complained about the garlic smell in the house yesterday. She complained about the neighbours’ guests, who had come back home late and let the door shut loudly. She complained about a dog that had shaken the water out of its fur on a rainy day. This had left brown stains on the wall next to the door.
“I would like to tell you something”, her neighbour said to her one day. “If you continue like this for a while, you will become a hard and bitter old woman who nobody likes, who everyone avoids and to whose funeral no one will go.”
From that day on she was polite to all her neighbours.
“In a land deep in your heart, there once lived a people which was as happy or unhappy as any people, and as rich or poor as any people, and as satisfied or longing as any people, and among them lived a boy who had a dream which many boys have: He wanted to search for a hidden treasure. Now this may not seem so peculiar, but this boy was lucky enough – or would you not call this lucky? – not only to have the dream of such a treasure but in fact to have found, in a secret hiding place in the garden, a key to just such a treasure. He had the key, the treasure belonged to him! But how should he find the treasure now, since he did not know where it was hidden? The boy sat down pondering.”
Two centuries ago there lived in our region a man who came to be renowned because many miracles occurred around him. People who had been declared to be incurably sick became healthy again after he had prayed for them. He also had a particular custom. When he bid farewell to someone he often said: “I’m sending an angel with you on your way”. This surprised many people. On the one hand there were already in those times many that did not believe in angels. And of the others many may have said: “How can he send out angels? For angels will only follow the word of God.” I don’t know if this can be true. I even doubt that such people know anything about angels. I just know that many people who visited him took with them a deep peace, and that they knew from then on that they were protected. Therefore I don’t care what other people may think if I say these very words to you: I’m sending an angel with you on your way.
“Look here”, said the old seafarer and rolled out a map. “This here is the Island of the Blissful.” His grandson regarded it attentively while the man stood up and took another map from the shelf. “And this here”, he continued while he unrolled this second map, “is the Island of the Ill-Fated.” “But that’s exactly the same island!” exclaimed the young man. “Perhaps it is the same, and perhaps it is not”, said the old man in a mysterious tone. “But I can tell you this much: The maps were drawn by two different cartographers. Both have visited the island. One went to all the bleak and desolate mountains on the island and measured all the spaces. The other went to all the beautiful, fertile places, and measured the island from there. Look here: they have also drawn in the paths along which they wandered. Whoever makes his way with the first map, looks from one beautiful peak to the next, and the dreary areas are hidden by the beautiful mountains. However, whoever makes his way with the second map, looks from one desolate peak to the next, and the beautiful scenery landscape remains hidden behind them.”
He was a seafarer. He sailed with freight ships to different countries along the coasts of Europe, Africa and South America. I asked him if he had ever experienced a bad storm. “I have experienced many storms”, he said. “I have experienced some storms where I thought: “We will never survive this!” And he stood before me and had survived, and could tell me about the adventures he had experienced.
One day they asked the master: “What do you do if you run out of parables?” “I tell a parable about a man who ran out of parables”, the master replied. “Tell us this parable!” his disciples begged. “Not now”, the master replied. “For as long as there is this one, I have not yet run out of parables.”
“I’m full”, I said. “But there’s always room for a slice of cake”, they replied. “I don’t want any”, I said. “But it tastes good”, they explained. “I need to lose weight”, I said. “But you don’t need to”, they said. “My doctor said I have a fatty liver”, I said. “We know someone with a fatty liver who lived to be over 90”, they responded. “No thank you, but could I have another cup of coffee?” I asked. “With milk, please”. Then they gave me coffee with milk and left me in peace. Since then, I only use these few words.
The guests told these and also some other stories to the king on the seventh day. When the sun’s rays had sunk in the west and the last storyteller of the day had finished his tale, the king scratched his head. “How can these stories be of use to us?” he asked out loud. “Possibly not at all”, murmured a scribe quietly. “Unless he who hears them now gets up and crosses the bridge.”
Our ferry left from Copenhagen. It sailed homewards in the direction of Germany. I stood at the railing on the upper deck. At the quay stood a pretty, delicate young woman. She waved at me. I am sure she meant me. Did I know her? No. She was a stranger to me. But the young woman’s gesture touched me. “Wait!” I wanted to say “stop the ship!” It became clear to me a ship such as this is very heavy. Even the helmsman couldn’t bring a ship of this size to a halt in seconds. I waved back, and the ship sailed on.
“Your legs look all puffed up! They look terrible! You need to go to hospital right away!” Erwin’s friends said when they saw him. “Not necessary”, Erwin replied. “It is necessary! Come on, get ready, we’ll drive you there.” “Tomorrow, maybe.” “You need to go to hospital. Promise us that you will go!” “Okay. I will go tomorrow.” “Will you give us a house key so we can get your pyjamas and things, in case you need anything in hospital?” Erwin handed it to his friends. Then they left. It was the last time they saw him alive.