Lincoln in the Bardo

A Peculiar Awakening

Dear Reader, you may find it odd to receive words from one such as I, Hans Vollman, a resident of an intermediate realm that some might call a purgatory, but which we refer to simply as the bardo. It is a place of transition, where spirits like myself linger, caught between the life we knew and the mystery of what lies beyond.

I write to you from this place, not to unsettle you, but to share the tapestry of my existence, and how the threads of my story might weave into the fabric of your own life. My life, in the physical sense, was once much like yours: filled with aspirations, the warmth of love, and the bitter chill of loss.

I was a businessman, a printer by trade, and though my days were consumed with the clatter of the press and the scent of fresh ink, my heart was dedicated to the love of my dear wife. Yet, fate is often unkind, and my earthly journey was cut short, leaving me here, in the bardo, where time unfolds in curious ways and souls are laid bare.

You might wonder, how is this man, caught in an ethereal limbo, similar to me? But, dear reader, we share the struggle of yearning, the ache of unfinished business, and the hope for resolution. You are alive, yes, and I am not in the way you understand, but we both seek meaning in the lives we've been granted, whether they continue on this Earth or somewhere beyond our comprehension.

Lessons in Love and Loss

In this realm, I have come to know spirits of every sort, each with a tale more heart-rending than the last. As I wander this ghostly plane, I often reflect on my life with my beloved, the unfulfilled dreams we shared, and the cruel moment when death did us part.

It is in these reflections that I find echoes of your own experiences, for who among you has not loved fiercely, or felt the sting of loss? Yet, it is not the sorrow that defines us, but the way we rise from it. I recall the evenings spent in my wife's company, the plans we laid for a future that would never come to pass, and I am reminded of the precious nature of each moment.

You, too, clasp such moments in your hands like rare jewels, sometimes unaware of their value until they slip through your fingers. Like you, I once stood on the precipice of despair, wondering if the abyss would claim me.

But here, among souls as lost and searching as I, I have learned that even from the depths of sorrow, a path toward something greater can be found. Your struggles, I assure you, are not in vain, for they carve the very essence of your spirit.

A Community of Shadows

My fellow inhabitants of the bardo are a motley crew, each clinging to the remnants of their former selves. We have formed a community of sorts, a gathering of spirits who console, cajole, and commiserate with one another.

In these interactions, I see a reflection of your own world, where people of all walks of life come together in the dance of existence. It is in this community that I have discovered the power of empathy, the strength that comes from understanding another's pain.

As you navigate your own life, surrounded by others with their own hidden battles, remember that kindness can be a balm to the weariest of souls. You, too, have this power—to reach out, to listen, to be present for those who stumble beside you.

And while our ghostly congregation may seem a far cry from your tangible connections, the essence remains the same. We are all seeking companionship, validation, and a sense that we are not alone in our struggles.

This, dear reader, is a universal truth, transcending the boundaries of life and death.

Unfinished Business

Many of us in the bardo are tethered by what we left undone, by the words we never spoke, the apologies we never made, the love we never fully expressed. I, too, am haunted by such regrets, by the visions of a life I could have lived had I been granted more time.

Yet, as I witness your world from my spectral vantage point, I see that you, as well, are burdened by unfinished business. The tasks you procrastinate, the relationships you neglect, the dreams you defer—these are the shackles that bind you as surely as they bind me.

But unlike me, you still have the breath in your lungs and the beat in your heart to set things right, to complete what you have started, to say the words that need to be said. I implore you, do not wait for a sign from beyond, for time is a fickle friend.

Seize the day, as they say, and tend to the garden of your life with care, so that when your time comes, as it inevitably will, you may leave behind a legacy that blooms rather than withers.

Visions of the Night

It was during one of the bardo's endless nights that I first saw him, the young Willie Lincoln, son of the President, a boy of such sweet disposition that even the most forlorn spirits were drawn to his light. His arrival stirred something within us all, a reminder of the innocence and purity that life once held.

Watching over this child, who seemed so out of place amongst our sorrowful ranks, I was struck by the realization that within each of us resides a fragment of that same innocence. It is easy to become jaded, to let the cynicism of the world cloud our vision, but like Willie, you possess the ability to see the wonder that persists amidst the chaos.

Remember, dear reader, that it is through the eyes of a child that the world is often seen most clearly. Do not lose sight of this clarity, this capacity for joy and amazement, for it is a wellspring from which you can draw strength when the shadows grow long and the light seems distant.

The Bardo's Lessons

The bardo, with its peculiar sense of time and its assembly of lost souls, has taught me much about the nature of existence. It has shown me the impermanence of life, the inevitability of change, and the enduring power of love.

These are lessons not exclusive to my ghostly domain but are woven into the fabric of your daily lives. You may not dwell in a liminal space like I do, but you are no stranger to the transitions that define the human experience.

Birth, growth, decay—these are the rhythms that compose the melody of your existence. Embrace them, for they are the notes that give your life its unique harmony.

In your moments of doubt, when the path ahead seems shrouded in mist, remember that you are not alone. Just as I have found companionship in the bardo, you are surrounded by those who can share your burdens, who can guide you through the fog.

Trust in this camaraderie, for it is a guiding light in the darkest of times.

A Final Entreaty

As I pen these final words, I hope that the tale of my sojourn in the bardo has found a place in your heart. It is my sincerest wish that the reflections I've shared might resonate with you, offering a glimmer of insight into your own journey.

Remember that life, in all its complexity and beauty, is a gift to be cherished. Do not squander it on pettiness or fear, but live fully, love deeply, and leave a mark that time itself cannot erase.

You are more capable than you know, more resilient than you believe, and more connected to the rest of us than you could possibly imagine. And now, dear reader, as I step back from my role as Hans Vollman, I encourage you to seek out the original book, "Lincoln in the Bardo" by George Saunders.

It is a masterpiece of storytelling, where you will find more tales of love, loss, and the profound humanity that binds us all. There, amidst the pages, you will encounter a chorus of voices that will make you laugh, weep, and ponder the depths of the human soul.

So, go forth and explore this literary work, for in doing so, you will not only delve into the richness of Saunders' imagination but perhaps also uncover deeper layers of your own existence. And who knows? You might emerge from the experience changed, with a newfound appreciation for the delicate events of your own life and the wisdom they impart.