Sukoon.
Peace.
Spiralling into the unknown.
Taking their hand, a therapeutic guide whom he had begrudgingly entrusted with the sources of his deepest fears and tales of unfulfilled desires, unsure of the journey they will take him on.
Past,
present,
and now into the future.
Trembling heart,
exhausted mind,
tingling skin,
melancholic eyes—all that heaviness would gently cease to occupy his being. Surrendering, opening up into the vulnerably emergent,
he flows forth.
The promise of Sukoon. Tranquillity.
Here it is—uncovered by faith in process. Captured by confusion and curiosity, he hears the drumbeats and flutes whistle, sees children playing in the waves and elders taking slow sips on delicately-spiced beverages. This relaxed, lively scene welcomes him in; its simple magic unfolding all around, as the feathers of birds and petals of flowers gently brush his cheeks and find home upon his fingertips.
Colourful—oh so abundant this world is! Each being beautifully different from the next, creative plurality is the way of life here. Bodies conversing and converging— humans and their fellow creatures finding serenity in each other’s presence—and in the middle of it all, he is lost in unfamiliarity. Where were the playground bullies, controlling partners, detached fathers, divisive tyrants, and roamers in uniform? Authoritarian aggression, fragile ego, competitive hustle, emotional withdrawal, deep-seated paranoia, hatred and disdain: the grand demonic gravity of it all has loosened its grip…
And with a terrified few he rebels, fighting in horror at what this embrace of vulnerability shall bring.
Hiding,
screaming,
policing,
even killing.
But seeing joy flow as many are re-acquainted with their humanity and, in turn, healing connections with those they had hurt was an honest craving he could not deny himself for long.
The oppression of another, for the way they
looked,
believed,
loved.
No longer, all of it was no longer—there was no other, just us.
Images of a violent masculinity, devoted to insecure ideas of value, worth, and power—so troubled, tumultuous, and traumatising—all being healed in this space of rest and wonder. A radical departure from the grip of lonely performativity to the beautiful charm of human authenticity—through dance, film, music, poetry, painting—the dream of Sukoon came to life. Where ways of the snow and the sun, the forest and the desert were uncorrupted, where the young and the old were in empathetic dialogue. And touch, so soft, of lovers, friends, human in nature and nature in human, everything in a pleasurable rhythm here.
Wondering how, from where has Sukoon emerged? Ways of learning have been transformed, reason and emotion are in interplay, open conversation and community care have replaced stoic obsessions and myths of carceral accountability. The technological has entered into creative dialogue with the natural, and humans have understood how to repair the generational damage they have done to one another. And with it, compassionate systemic transformation.
“Only as an agent of love”, the therapeutic guide says, “can you imagine and design with hope.”
Here, where tears are comforted, and laughs celebrated. Land without border, community without governance—souls interdependent and yet free to just be. It happened—they came together in struggle, solidarity, movement, and the conviction that a world beyond fearful categories and binaries was possible. Alive with all the colours of the rainbow, this is a community that choose to love in every sense.
The justice of Sukoon, if only he had had the courage to embrace it sooner, what joy it would have been to have lived awhile longer.