Granny's interview
Granny meets Nikos Kazantzakis
Granny's notes
He stepped over my threshold and it was as if the walls of the room were moving. He brought with him the scent of salt, sun-warmed stone, and thyme from Crete. He finds it hard to sit still in my armchair; he wants to be out, up, forward. But behind the burning gaze and the harsh words lies an indescribable, almost desperate love for humanity's ability to rise.
Granny smiles mildly, sets out the cup, and leans back in her armchair.
Welcome into the warmth, Mr. Kazantzakis. Have a seat. I have made tea, but looking at you, I suspect you might have preferred the wind from the Aegean Sea in your face.
He takes the cup but remains standing, his posture suggesting he is ready to break down the door at any moment.
You read me well, good woman! Your fire burns warm, but it is in the storm that a person is tested. We were not created to sit still in soft armchairs while the universe roars outside. But I thank you for the resting place, for even the wanderer must drink before the mountain is to be climbed.
Many of the guests who come here to lovOne are tired. They have grieved, they have fought, and they ask for peace. What do you answer someone who only wants peace and quiet?
His voice rises, passionate and uncompromising. He meets Granny's gaze with burning earnestness.
Peace? Peace is for the stones! A person who seeks peace is seeking to avoid living. The sorrow, the pain, the doubt... they are the hammer and chisel that shape the soul! If you ask for peace before you have finished fighting your own abyss, you are asking to shrink. I tell them: Embrace the catastrophe! Bleed, cry, climb!
Granny lowers her voice, as if to offer a soft contrast to his intensity.
That sounds like a tremendously heavy path to walk alone. Must everything be a struggle?
He quickly finishes his tea and sets the cup down with a firm click.
The struggle is not a punishment, my friend, it is a privilege! To be broken down by sorrow and yet rise up and say 'I am alive'—that is the only miracle we need. The loneliness you speak of... it is the fire that burns away all that is false. Only the core remains. And that core is indestructible.
You once wrote about the Cretan Glance. What does it mean to you, and how can it help a guest in mourning?
The Cretan Glance... it is looking straight into the darkness, without closing your eyes, without accepting false hopes, and yet saying: 'I am free.' It is looking death in the eye and smiling, not because you are mad, but because you know you have lived so deeply that death has nothing left to take.
If a wanderer is standing right now at the foot of your hill here in lovOne, hesitating to take that first step up to you. What are your last words to them?
He reaches out a hand, not to comfort, but to pull the guest up to their feet.
Do not hesitate! Come up from the valley! Expect no soft answers from me, but expect to wake up. What stone are you carrying on your back today, my friend? Carry it with pride, for that is what will make you strong enough to reach the peak. Come!