You may have dreamed of such a scene: a steep mountain rises majestically before you, and you use all your strength to climb a vertical rock, but again and again, you slip down and fall into a deep valley; you may still I have dreamed of such a scene: you are in a noisy crowd, the eyes cast at you are full of ridicule and hostility, you want to speak, you want to defend, you want to express yourself, but your hoarse voice can’t come out Any sound, you watch all your friends go farther and farther, but you can’t move a step; maybe you have dreamed of a car that can never catch up, a wasteland that can never be walked, a prison door that can never be opened, and a door that can never be touched. Unreachable door – if you have dreamed of them, if you have understood them, then, perhaps, you can also meet him at a certain moment, at an unexpected occasion – Kafka.
I have read about Kafka in the articles of the critics, I have come into contact with Kafka in the writings of the biographers, and I have come face to face with him in the dark caves, the desolate castles, the musty-smelling apartments Conversation, in a language that does not exist in the world, in a way that reason cannot understand. Nevertheless, it left the deepest feelings.
Still, I never really got to know him, this man called Kafka, with a different face and a habit of hiding himself. Only at silent midnight does his timid ghost creep through the slumbering air, wandering the sleepless nights of some. Only then will I recognize him, his thin, pale, bloodless face, his kind, keen, wandering eyes, and the two jumping men behind him, chasing after him. Things – sometimes they become people, sometimes just two little balls that seem innocuous, but – naughty and vicious.
Why can’t we sleep? Science explains it to us like this: Everyone dreams. Dreams are normal brain activities, what is in the mind, the compensation for the lack of life, and the transfer and replacement of emotional needs. We will never be satisfied, so we will always dream. But why can’t we sleep peacefully? Why is our sleep filled with fear? Why isn’t there a door to protect our dreams? Since when do we have scary footage in our memories, when does our sweet sleep begin turned into a nightmare?
We once slept in the dark womb of our mother and enjoyed the happiness of unconscious chaos, and we also spent the nostalgic childhood time in the cheerful and crisp laughter of our little friends. However, happiness often only exists in the moment when the white horse passes the gap, and it is frozen for a short time.
Our carefree childhood has long gone, and the carefree childhood of mankind has long since been lost. I once tasted all kinds of delicious food, but now I can only satisfy my hunger with bitter fruits. Compared with never tasted the sweet taste, I can only swallow bitter water and hopelessly yearn for the wine in other people’s cups. Which one is more miserable? There are all kinds of pain in the world, It cannot be explained by the theories of philosophers, it cannot be relieved by a few blessings from the clergy, it cannot be clearly expressed by language, and it cannot be fully displayed by pictures. But life itself, as an inextinguishable will, promotes the reproduction and development of human beings from generation to generation. Finally today, we can proudly say: This is civilization! Yes, we are civilized people. The mild-mannered, well-mannered, and well-mannered civilized man does not worry about food and clothing, so he can mock the uncivilized and “barbaric” in appropriate language. But what is behind this sense of superiority? What is left of us after stripping away the pretense of civilization? We have plenty of food, warm clothes, but we are still not satisfied; we have literature, art, all kinds of high and low entertainment, but we are still spiritually empty. Moreover, we have never been free from one of the most primitive and terrifying things: fear. We are afraid.
We are afraid of survival, we are afraid of death. We are afraid of being the same. We are afraid of displacement. We are afraid of loneliness, we are afraid of noise. We are afraid that when we wake up in the morning, we will find ourselves an ugly, clunky beetle; Lightning and thunder, landslides and earth fissures, we are afraid of plane crashes, atomic bombs – who can boast that we have conquered nature, and who can guarantee that civilization will not become a disaster? With new fears, what do we do? Where do we flee? Who will build a new Noah’s Ark?
Forget it, we are powerless to pay attention to humans. The question is, what do I do? How do I survive? How can I find a way out for myself? I often have hope in my heart, but I often fall into despair, and there is only a little hope in the midst of complete despair. I crave what I fear, I fear what I crave, I’m worn out, I’m exhausted, I hear splits, I feel a violent fall – but instead of going mad, I turn to my reason to fight this The irrationality of the world. What happened? No one will know.
But, am I still me? I only see a humble creature in a huge world. It was extremely frightened in the face of such a huge world, its slender legs crawled desperately, it wanted to find a wall, a hole, or even a straw to hide its poor body. However, there are strange dangers and loneliness everywhere. It cannot escape, it cannot be prevented. We have been searching for ourselves since we were born, we have been looking for it for a long time, and suddenly we find that the process of searching is the process of losing. We went everywhere to find our home, to find a home, and we turned every place into a foreign land. But, it’s not our fault. We are born sinful, and we harbor evil. Our reason is but an unfaithful friend who always has reservations in helping us. We were punished, we paid the price, we changed our bodies, we twisted our spirits.
Didn’t Kafka, who is a ghost with a pen and a ghost, foresee this long ago? The alienation from man to worm is sad, isn’t the evolution process from ape to man cruel? The moment when the judgment comes is terrible , and the long pending state of waiting for trial is more unbearable than death? Isn’t it ironic to be turned away and told that the door is only open for you? Is it just ridiculous to go through a hole in the ground to mend it? When you look at yourself, at your own existence, at the inevitability of your own destiny, what do you see? Everyone thinks To have eternity, in fact, another name for eternity is death.
However, what if you know all this? People are always helpless towards their destiny. He will not become more detached, nor will he be liberated by it.
Kafka said so.
