Sometimes I ask myself whether it’s even possible to truly accept that I will never again see the faces of my loved ones, the sunset, the sky full of stars. For a long time, I wrestled with the fact that it simply couldn’t be done. But more and more I feel that acceptance is neither agreement nor resignation, nor a desperate surrender — it is simply seeing reality without resistance.
Losing my sight meant death for me in many ways. An ending that became an invitation to deeply explore who I truly am. What remains when everything is taken from you?
The complete collapse of all ideas I ever had about my life, which ended somewhere deep in a dark abyss, brought confusion, sorrow, anger — or rather explosive fury — and then again confusion, sorrow, and fury. In this circle of suffering one could spin endlessly, like a frantic hamster, and after a while it might not even seem strange.
But behind it all, there is silence. An empty space beyond the uncontrollably roaring mind and its thousands of resistances. It is precisely that space which is never broken or wounded. It embraces every experience without judgment, without unnecessary commentary, without any concepts or expectations. It is life itself, breathing beneath everything that hurts. And within it, loss turns into a return. To oneself. To the silence that has always been here. And in that silence, everything dissolves — even the need to accept anything at all. Because here, in the quiet heart of being, nothing has been ever truly lost.