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Oskar Schindler & I
Schindlers List
I have been very unwell for the last 10 days. The anxiety I have suffered from over the previous 40 years became seriously exacerbated and reached a stage or presentation I have never experienced before.
It was only on Thursday that I began to feel better although as anyone with anxiety knows relatively better isn't a game changer in the slightest it just allows you to get through the day a little easier; anxiety has so many levels and so many symptoms. My own symptoms were neurological and involved neck and head spasms that only ceased when I slept. Sleep was a godsend although I blaspheme as I do not believe in a god. But you know what I meant.
Yet even suffering can have a silver lining as many artists and writers are aware of. Suffering can provide insight. Insight into many aspects of the human condition. For me, it was as I watched Schindlers List (1991) by Steven Spielberg on BBCFour on Thursday evening.
I am not referring to the Holocaust or the nature of evil — which I have written about quite extensively — but to the character of Oskar Schindler. I had never understood this man until I watched on Thursday still in much discomfort and the worry about whether these spasms would ever rescind their torturous grip over me.
