"There is never a last thread" – The tales of an old wanderer about life itself

An article about life, the path, falling – and walking despite everything.

Prologue: The Voice of the Wind

If you are old enough to stand still and hear the wind speak, you will notice that it carries stories. Not only about weather, but about steps – countless steps taken by people before you. Some ran, others slipped. Some fell. But all walked. And do you know what none of them ever found? The "last thread". It does not exist.

That, my friend, is the first lesson.

1. The Beginning: Birth Is Not a Contract

I was not asked if I wanted to live. No one was. We simply appear out of nowhere – with a first cry, a delicate breath that we ourselves cannot understand. The beginning is not a contract. No plan. No manual lies beside the bed, no goal hangs on the cradle.

I came into this world like everyone else: naked, defenseless, curious. And yet everything I ever needed was already there. Not in my pocket, but within me: time. And the possibility to let it go.

2. The Paths: Going Straight Is Boring

As a young man I thought life was a path – paved cleanly, perhaps with a few curves, but largely and in total predictable. School, work, family, maybe a house. A plan, a pattern. But life laughed at me. It stepped in my side and shouted: “Wrong idea!”

I lost early people who were close to me. I chased false dreams. I loved wrong, fought for things that destroyed me. And do you know what? All of that was good. Not because it was easy – but because it was real.

Going straight ahead is an illusion. Life runs in spirals, in dead ends, in loops. And sometimes you return to places you thought you had long left behind – only to find that this time you are differently there.

3. The Darkness: When Everything Falls Silent

There are nights when you sit on a stone, barefoot, looking at a sky that gives no answer. No stars, no moon, only you and the dark hum of your thoughts. And then you ask yourself: “Was that it?”

I have had many such nights. Nights when I wanted to give up everything. People. Paths. Myself. But what I eventually understood: Giving up is also a step. It is not an end. It is just another beat in the rhythm of life.

And then the morning came.

4. The Decision: Walk, Even When You Don’t Know Where

I remember an autumn morning. My backpack was empty, my heart heavy, my steps aimless. But I went. I didn’t know where – I only knew that I had to.

Life doesn’t force you into decisions. It waits. It waits for you to ask yourself: “What now?” And it is in this question that life truly begins. Not in safety, but in risk. Not in having, but in going.

I have since walked many paths. Some led to people, some to mountains, some into my innermost self. But never, ever was any one of them in vain.

5. The Others: No One Goes Alone

I met many people. Lost ones, lovers, seekers. I slept in huts, in ruins, under bridges, in palaces, and the one thing that connected all places was stories. Every person you encounter carries an entire universe within them. Listen. Learn. And if you can: Shine for them when their candle flickers.

Once a man in Portugal told me: “We are only lanterns on dark paths. You will never know whom your light touches.” I have never forgotten that sentence.

6. The Thread of Fate: A Myth

Many seek it: the Thread of Fate. That one moment when everything tips. The last straw. The big decision. The great “Now or never”. I tell you: It does not exist.

What exists are transitions. Bridges. Breaks. Stillnesses. And then: Steps again.

I have learned that life is not a stage with a final act, but a flow. And even if you think you fall – you are carried. By time. By people. By memory.

The “last thread” is a myth. You can always start anew. Even after the tenth fall. Even after the hundredth mistake. The earth beneath your feet will not crush you. It waits. Always.

7. The old wanderer: Who I am today

I am old. My beard is gray, my hands bear cracks like dry land. I possess little. And yet more than I ever dared to hope for: Time. Memory. And the knowledge that I still walk.

If you are reading this and think you are stuck – believe me: I thought that too. Many times. But you breathe. You read. And that means: It goes on. Not because you have to. But because you can.

Epilogue: The Trace in the Dust

I will go one day – finally. My last step will come. But until then I leave traces in the dust. Words. Glances. Encounters. And you will do that too. You already are doing it. Everyone does it.

Don’t let fear brake you. Not doubt. Not waiting for “better times”. The times are here. Here. Now.

Because life, my friend, is not a destination. It’s a path. And the last string?

There isn’t one.

– told by an old wanderer, somewhere between yesterday and tomorrow

COPYRIGHT ToNEKi Media UG (limited liability)

AUTHOR:  THOMAS JAN POSCHADEL

COPYRIGHT ToNEKi Media UG (limited liability)