For mental food I read about left wing politics. Never tuned into teaching German. I showed up, held my hand over my heart, did drills and read simple dialogs with the kids. Then one day the big gig. It wasn’t that I went somewhere. I just unwrapped and discovered that the “me” that taught school and did things—the me that was a person—was a speck of dust and that underneath that dirty mess was the source of everything pumping it out for the whole universe—it was the whole universe—using just a few drops for me. When the last veil fell, I was astonished that I even existed or that anything existed. Why existence? That was it. No way to explain that! No way to stuff that cat back into the bag. Kabul. That night in Berlin. He was right.
