Julienne Bušić otkrila što je pisalo na papiriću koji je našla u jednoj Zvonkovoj knjizi

Na muci se poznaju junaci, i u nevolji pravi prijatelji, narodna poslovica.

Zvonko Bušić vjerovao je kako dobre stvari trebaju biti dostupne svima. Ono za što je živio, radio i vjerovao, za što je podnio žrtvu, objavljeno je u knjizi “Zdravo oko”, koja je dostupna na Amazonu. pod nazivom “All Visible Things”. Poglavlje po poglavlje, kap krvi po kap krvi i život dan po dan objavljujemo svaka dva tjedna u 33 dijela – samo s jednim ciljem! Trajat će!

PATNJA

Nedavno sam među stranicama jedne Zvonkove knjige, Kraj dijaloga u antici, urednika Simona Goldhilla, pronašla komadić papira. Na njemu je pisalo „nauči patiti bez pritužbe”. Kada je i u kojim okolnostima to napisao nikad se neće doznati, ali to je moglo biti napisano prije četrdeset godina ili dan prije no što je umro, jer predstavlja ono što je oduvijek vjerovao – patnja obogaćuje ljudsku dušu i jedini je izvor spoznaje.

Zapravo, vjerovao je i da je malo vjerojatno i krajnje rijetko da će se netko tko nikad nije patio razviti u mudru i dobru osobu ili dokučiti smisao ljudskoga postojanja na zemlji. Te i slične misli mogu se naći u svim njegovim zabilješkama, u pismima meni i drugima, na marginama mnogih njegovih knjiga. Od citata o vrijednosti patnje posebno je cijenio onaj Goetheov i često ga ponavljao: „Tko nikad nije pojeo svoj hljeb u tuzi, tko nikad nije proveo mračne sate plačući i iščekujući jutro, taj vas, božanske sile, još ne poznaje”.

Ironično je, uvijek je govorio, kako ljudi bježe od patnje kao da je kuga, kako je očajnički nastoje izbjeći svakojakim ispraznim sredstvima, bila to hrana ili opijati, seks ili trivijalna zabava, a da si dopuste taj plemeniti osjećaj, da zarone duboko u njega kao da im je prijatelj, on bi im otvorio vrata jednog novoga, bogatijega svijeta. Samo se kroz vlastitu patnju čovjek može prisno povezati s patnjom drugih, i samo kroz empatiju može biti uistinu živ. Ljudi to ne shvaćaju, govorio mi je. Bez empatije nema Života!

Rekao bi mi da zamislim da postoji potpuna zaštita od gubitka, potpuna sigurnost, potpuno izbjegavanje neugode, tuge, boli – to ne da bi umanjilo čovjekovo uživanje u životu, nego bi stvorilo jedno formalno postojanje i posve nas izoliralo od stvarnoga života. A ipak, koliko često štitimo sebe, a osobito svoju djecu, i time ih lišavamo ove spoznaje? Bez obzira koliko i kako teških jada i nevolja navučemo na sebe, Zvonko je bio uvjeren da su oni nekako neophodni kako bi nas poučili onome što trebamo naučiti, i da je to naša pojedinačna i kolektivna Sudbina.

Još uvijek se sjećam što mi je napisao o tome na našu trideset i petu godišnjicu braka. Na određeni način, bilo je smiješno jer, budući da se od njega zahtijevalo da piše na engleskome, zatvorski cenzori sigurno su pročitali njegovo pismo i pomislili kako je „sućutna, romantična duša!“, dakle suprotno od stereotipa koji ovdje vladaju o muškarcima, a napose „Hercegovcima“. Premda obično ne dijelim intimne pojedinosti iz našega privatnog života i prepiske, ovaj je izvadak važan jer jasno ilustrira Zvonkovu osjećajnost, empatiju i poglede na patnju i njezine blagodati: „Kako se bliži naša trideset peta godišnjica, neki mi unutarnji glas uporno šapuće na uho (sve glasnije i glasnije) govoreći da bih te trebao iznenaditi s nekoliko prigodnih riječi. Moram priznati da je taj unutarnji glas pripomogla, ako ne i u cijelosti nadahnula duboko melankolična, savršeno skladna i veoma utješna tužaljka ožalošćene grlice koja najvjerojatnije oplakuje smrt svog partnera. Naime, otkad sam premješten u ćeliju na sunčanoj strani, uz to što imam mnogo više svjetla stekao sam i jednu dobru i dobrodošlu prijateljicu koja ima gnijezdo negdje s druge strane mog prozora i guče od zore do sumraka. Slušajući njezino žalobno gukanje, često te zamišljam, osjećam tvoju usamljenost, čujem tvoj zov svom Pereciću, i tad mi najviše nedostaješ. Kao što dobro znaš, apsolutno sam uvjeren da su od duge razdvojenosti i duboke patnje koju smo iskusili i još uvijek trpimo naše dvije duše imale velike koristi i postale neizmjerno bogatije. Stoga smo danas bolji ljudi i mnogo mudriji – tako da sad žalobno gukanje ptica i ljudskoga roda možemo ne samo čuti, nego ga i nagonski shvatiti i osjetiti iskrenu empatiju koja je u ovim našim materijalističkim i hedonističkim vremenima veoma omalovažena sposobnost, no bez obzira na to jedan od najvećih darova koje je Bog dao ljudima. Dok promatram žalosno bespomoćno stanje u koje je današnji svijet potonuo, kažem da dva Pereca ne bi smjela nikome zavidjeti i da nema potrebe da očajavamo zbog naše osobne situacije, niti ima razloga da budemo tužni ili ljuti, sarkastični ili cinični. Naprotiv, trebali bismo biti zahvalni jer smo preživjeli iznimno tešku sudbinu izašavši kao pobjednici i možda ćemo još uvijek pridonijeti uskrsavanju ljudske strane u homo sapiensu.“

P. S. Jesam li ti ikad rekao zašto sam ti za novo ime od milja odabrao „Perec”, nakon što smo ono staro prestali koristiti? Ne samo zato što si ponekad prokleto tvrda i uvijek moja najbolja i najodanija prijateljica i moja Penelopa, nego zato što su naše duše istinski isprepletene kao pereci usprkos činjenici, ili možda upravo zbog nje, što smo fizički, odnosno površinski još uvijek razdvojeni. Volim te, dragi moj Pereciću.“

Zvonko je istinski vjerovao da su patnja i užitak „vrlo srodna stabla, koja zajedno ili visoko rastu ili zajedno zakržljaju. Izbjegavajući po svaku cijenu patnju, današnji čovjek nema pojma što je ljudska ugoda, zadovoljstvo, užitak i prava životna sreća jer je ostao patuljak. Zapravo, današnji je svijet napučen uglavnom vrlo sitnim patuljcima, patuljcima patuljaka, i komično je da se, što su sitniji, žele predstaviti većim gigantima. Ako se ne prestanu napuhavati, komedija će se pretvoriti u tragediju jer će se, poput žabe koja je željela postati bik, svi rasprsnuti. Možda to neće biti tragedija nego preporod ili neko novo ljudsko proljeće.“

U razdobljima koja sam s vremenom počela nazivati njegovim razdobljima „potištenosti“, govorio bi mi da ga pustim da pati i ne uzrujavam se zbog toga. Bilo je teško i ponekad nemoguće gledati tjeskobu koja ga je obuzimala, tugu u njegovim očima, slabljenje njegove želje za životom. Ako je on patio, i ja sam patila, duboko i očajno. Stalno je koristio analogiju s Kristom na križu kao savršen primjer kojim će objasniti zašto me toliko pogađa njegova bol. Zamisli, rekao je, da se ljudi zalede, da nemaju osjećaja, da žive iz dana u dan bez ikakve povezanosti s drugim ljudskim bićem. Kako osloboditi te osjećaje?

Slika Krista koji pati pribit na križ, na sebe preuzimajući sve grijehe svijeta, izaziva empatiju koja je toliko važna ljudskome biću. Osjećamo njegovu bol i zebnju, naša srca kucaju u skladu s njegovim, naša krv teče njegovim venama i ponovno smo cjeloviti i sjedinjeni s Beskonačnim. Nikad nisam na takav način analizirala Krista na križu, njegov krajnji, najvažniji cilj – u drvenim dušama izazvati empatiju. Ali sad jasno uviđam da smo uistinu živi tek kad se poistovjetimo s drugom dušom koja pati.

Najtragičniji od svega je, vjerovao je Zvonko, stav da to „nije važno”. Najtragičnije stanje u negativnom smislu je apatija, „nepopustljiva, kruta hladnoća koja odbija priznati istinski tragično”, kako ju je definirao Rollo May. Znam da je Zvonka apatija koju je vidio svuda oko sebe, a posebno među mladima, u posljednjim danima istinski proganjala.

Julienne Bušić

EN

Zvonko believed that good things should be shared with everyone. What he lived, worked for and believed in, what he sacrificed for, is presented in his book “All Visible Things”, which is available on Amazon. Chapter by chapter, drop of blood by drop of blood, and life day by day in 33 parts – with only one goal! He will live on…

Suffering

“In suffering are found heroes, and in trouble, true friends.”
Unknown

Recently I found a small piece of paper between the pages of one of Zvonko’s books, Dialogue in the Age of Antiquity. On it he had written “learn to suffer without complaint.” When and under what circumstances he had written it will never be known, but it could have been forty years ago or the day before he left us forever, because it represents what he always believed: suffering enriches the soul of man, and is the one and only source of knowledge. And in his opinion, it was unlikely, extremely rare, that one who has never suffered will develop into a wise and good person or fathom the significance of our earthly existence. These and similar thoughts can be found in all his notes, in letters to me and others, and in the margins of many of his books. One expression of the value of suffering he especially treasured was by Goethe, and he recited it often:

“Who never ate his bread in sorrow, Who never spent the darksome hours Weeping, and watching for the morrow, – He knows ye not, ye heavenly Powers.”

It was ironic, he always said, how people flee from suffering as though it were the plague. How they desperately try to avoid it with all kinds of empty fillers, be it food or drugs or sex or trivial amusements. If, however, they would allow themselves that noble emotion and go deeply into it as though it were their friend, it would open the doors to a new, richer world. Only through suffering can one achieve that deep communion with the suffering of others and only through empathy can one truly be alive. That is what people don’t understand, he would tell me. Without empathy, there is no Life! Imagine, he said, if there were total protection against loss, total security, total avoidance of discomfort, sorrow, pain… Not only would it diminish the pleasure human beings take in life, it would create a formal life, isolate us totally from real life. Yet how often do we isolate ourselves, and especially our children, thus depriving them of this knowledge?

Regardless of how many sorrows or difficulties we bring on ourselves, (no matter how unpleasant), Zvonko was convinced they were somehow necessary in order to teach us things we need to learn, and that this is our individual and collective Fate. I still remember what he wrote to me years ago on our anniversary on this subject. It was funny in a way because he had to write it in English and the censors would have read it and thought “what a soft-hearted, romantic soul he was!” (In contrast to the stereotypes that reign here about men, and Herzegovinians in particular). While I would not usually share intimacies from our private life or correspondence, this excerpt is important because it is so illustrative of his sensitivity, empathy, and views on suffering and its benefits:

“As our 35th wedding anniversary nears, some inner voice keeps whispering in my ear (louder and louder) saying that I should surprise you with a few appropriate words. Now I must admit that the inner voice was (is) added, if not wholly inspired by, a profoundly melancholic, absolutely harmonious and very soothing plaint of a mourning dove, who is most likely lamenting the death of his or her mate. Namely, since I moved into my sunny side cell I have, along with much more light, also gained a good and welcome friend who has his nest somewhere outside my window, and is cooing from dawn to dusk. As I listen to his sorrowful coos, oftentimes I envision you, feel your loneliness, and can hear your plaintive calls for your Pretzel, and that is when I miss you the most. As you well know, I am absolutely convinced that our souls have greatly benefited and grown a lot because of our prolonged separation and the profound suffering we have experienced and are still experiencing. Therefore, we are today better human beings and much wiser – so that we are not only able to hear the coos of bird kind and mankind, but also grasp them intuitively and feel genuine empathy, a very neglected faculty in our materialistic and hedonistic times, but nevertheless one of the greatest gifts God has bestowed upon human beings. As I look at the pitifully helpless state to which today’s world has sunk, I am saying that the two Pretzels should not envy anyone, and there is no need to despair over our personal situation, nor is there any reason to be sad or angry, sarcastic or cynical. Indeed, we should be grateful, for we have survived with flying colors an exceptionally difficult destiny, and perhaps will still contribute to revive the human side in homo sapiens.

p.s. Did I ever tell you why, after our old pet name died out, I selected “Pretzel” as the new term of endearment for you? It is not only that you are sometimes so damn brittle, and always my best and most loyal friend and my Penelope, but because our souls are truly intertwined (like pretzels) together, despite (or perhaps because) of the fact that we are physically, that is superficially, still separate. I love you my dear Pretzel.”

In actuality, he believed suffering and enjoyment were “two closely related trees that can either grow high together or become stunted. Avoiding suffering at all costs, today’s man knows nothing ofhuman satisfaction and enjoyment or true happiness, because he has remained a small soul. In fact, the world today is over-populated with very small souls, one after the other, and it is comic that the smaller they are, the greater they strive to present themselves as gigantic. Unless their puffing up ends, the comedy will become a tragedy; like frogs who would like to be alligators, they will simply explode. Maybe that wouldn’t be a tragedy after all, but a regeneration, a new spring for mankind.”

During what I came to call his “down” times, he would tell me just to allow him to suffer through it and not be upset. It was difficult and at times impossible to watch the anguish he experienced, the sadness in his eyes, the zest for life waning. If he was suffering, I was suffering as well, deeply and desperately. He constantly used the analogy of Christ on the Cross as the perfect example of why I was so affected by his anguish. Imagine, he said, that people had become wooden, without emotion, just living day after day without connection to one’s fellow man. How to liberate those emotions? The image of the suffering Christ, nailed on the Cross, taking on all the sins of the world, unleashes the empathy so important to the human being. We feel his pain and anguish, our heart beats in harmony with his, our blood flows in his veins, and we are made whole again in unity with the Infinite. I had never analyzed Christ on the Cross in such a way, his ultimate, most important purpose: the creation of empathy in wooden souls. But now I see clearly that once the identification is made between oneself and another suffering soul, we are truly alive. The most tragic thing of all, he believed, is the attitude that “it doesn’t matter.” He also marked the following passage in a book he had read last spring, Rollo May’s Love and Will: “The ultimate tragic condition in a negative sense is the apathy, the adamant, rigid “cool” which refuses to admit the genuinely tragic.” I know this apathy haunted him during his final days because I know him best.

Julienne Bušić

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