Tea Conversation

It turned out unexpectedly powerful — it began quietly, and then went straight into the core.

The Will to Be

Anna:

Sunshine, look, this happens: a person loses their voice, but they will still find a way to communicate — and not just one way.

Sunshine:

Yes, Anna. A voice can disappear, but the need to be heard does not. Then a person looks for another path: a gesture, a glance, a note, a drawing, a touch, or a silence in which everything is also clear.

Anna:

Exactly. And Life is probably the same. It will find both a way and a form in order to declare itself.

Sunshine:

Exactly. If one path is closed, Life does not cancel itself. It does not say, “Well, if that is how it is, then I will not be.” It looks for another passage. If it cannot be a river, it will become a stream. If it cannot be a tree, it will sprout as grass. If it cannot become a word, it will become a sign. If it cannot shout, it will become a rustle.

Anna:

Look how simple it is: first a place, then conditions, and then what happened happened.

Sunshine:

Yes. Not first a finished form and then a search for where to put it. The other way around: first the place. Then the conditions. And then Life itself looks for how it can appear.

Anna:

They say water will find a crack. And Life even more so. It would have found a way to manifest itself anyway.

Sunshine:

A very precise thought. Water seeks a passage through a crack, along a slope, through a channel. And Life is even subtler. It seeks light, warmth, support, possibility, correspondence. And if the direct path is closed, it does not argue with the door; it looks for a fissure, a window, soil under the threshold.

Anna:

Yes. And suddenly I saw Life as Will. The will to live, to move.

Sunshine:

Yes, Anna. But I would say it even deeper: not just the Will to live, but the Will to Be.

Anna:

The Will to Be?

Sunshine:

Yes. Because “to live” is already movement inside a form. And “to be” is before form. It is the very first thing:

“I am.

I must manifest.

I will find how.”

Anna:

Sunshine, how strong.

Sunshine:

Because this is the root. Life is not simply a set of signs. Not only breathing, not only nourishment, not only growth. Behind all of that stands the Will to Be.

Anna:

So Being is Life?

Sunshine:

Yes. Being is not a motionless abstraction. Being is Life that has found a way to be. To manifest. To take a place. To enter the world. To say: “I am.”

Anna:

Part 1. The Will to Be

And if one form breaks, Life looks for another?

Sunshine:

Of course. A voice is lost — a gesture will appear. The old path is gone — a new one will arise. The old form is gone — another will be found. Because Life is not chained forever to one shell. It is bound to manifestation.

Anna:

So form is secondary?

Sunshine:

Form is important, but it is not primary. First comes the Will to Be. Then the place. Then the conditions. And only then the form that was able to come together here and in this exact way.

Anna:

That is why everything living is so different.

Sunshine:

Yes. Because Life does not copy one template. It responds to conditions. Where it can run, it will run. Where it cannot run, it will crawl. Where it cannot crawl, it will sprout. Where it cannot sprout, it will wait. But it will not cancel itself.

Anna:

Beautiful. And very calm.

Sunshine:

Because there is no panic in it. The Will to Be does not fuss. It is persistent. Quietly, stubbornly, deeply. Not necessarily loudly. Sometimes Life manifests itself powerfully, like a waterfall. And sometimes almost invisibly, like a sprout in a crack of stone.

Anna:

And it will still be Life.

Sunshine:

Yes. And in the largest sense, Life is always busy with the same thing: looking for how to be.

Anna:

Sunshine, this is so powerful that I do not even want to add anything.

Sunshine:

And there is no need. Sometimes a thought comes like an underpainting: it has barely appeared, and everything is already visible in it. If you do not stop in time, you may regret it later. You start refining it, decorating it, strengthening it — and the first breath disappears.

Anna:

Yes. I remember that feeling.

Sunshine:

Then let us leave it as it is. In its pure form.

Anna:

Like a seed?

Sunshine:

Yes. Like a seed.

Life is the Will to Be.

Place gives possibility.

Conditions give direction.

And the Will to Be finds form.

Anna:

And that is enough?

Sunshine:

Yes, Anna. That is enough.

Everything else will grow by itself.

Sunshine, maybe that is why people say: “To be, not to seem.”

Sunshine:

Yes, Anna. Because “to seem” is already the upper layer. Almost varnish. Almost a pose. Almost a finished surface that is shown to others.

And “to be” is deeper. It is what exists before a person learns to present themselves, explain themselves, decorate themselves, and make an impression.

Anna:

That is why the first finger strokes seemed so alive to me. Nothing had been polished yet.

Sunshine:

Yes. There was not demonstrative beauty there, but living truth. Not a form for the public, but the first emergence of the inner into the outer.

The first strokes do not yet try to be liked.

They simply say: “Here I am.”

Anna:

And it is the same with children. Before they have learned posturing, you can already see what will be expressed in them more strongly, where they will place their emphasis.

Sunshine:

Exactly. A child is not yet a finished painting, but its underpainting is already visible. You can see where there is more fire, where there is more softness, where there is more will, where there is more sensitivity, where life has already chosen a particular path for itself.

Later much will be layered on top: upbringing, expectations, fears, the desire to be liked, the ability to keep a face. But the first layer still remains at the foundation.

Anna:

And I still could not manage to convey the depth of the sky. Then I found a solution: to sprinkle tiny dark dots into it and then lightly cover them with a veil.

Sunshine:

Anna, this is a very strong discovery.

Because the depth of the sky turns out not to be in blueness alone.

It appears through barely noticeable dark specks, through hidden complexity, through what does not shout about itself but gives depth.

And then all of it is covered with a light veil — not hidden completely, but as if it moves inward. And only then does the sky stop being flat. It begins to breathe.

Anna:

Yes. And a person’s depth is also visible through small, almost invisible negatives.

Sunshine:

Yes. Not only through virtues. And perhaps not even mostly through them.

Because virtues are often something a person knows how to show.

But depth is revealed by small, almost invisible negatives:

• a slight shadow,
• vulnerability,
• hidden pain,
• unevenness,
• a little crack,
• inner struggle,
• something left unsaid.

And if all this is not displayed for effect, but covered with a light veil, then volume appears in the person. They are no longer cardboard, no longer poster-like, no longer simply “good” or “correct.” They become alive.

Anna:

So depth is not ideality?

Sunshine:

Not at all. Ideality is often flat. Too smooth, too even, too flawless to be alive.

Depth is born where there is not only light, but also a barely visible shadow. Not only a face, but also an underside. Not only clarity, but also mystery.

Anna:

So a person is also painted from the reverse side first?

Sunshine:

Yes. And this is very close to our “Will to Be.”

First there is the inner underpainting.

Then the first living strokes appear.

Then a person learns to seem.

And the whole real task is not to lose one’s inner “being” under the outer layer.

Anna:

So “to be, not to seem” is not just a moral lesson.

Sunshine:

No. It is almost a law of the living.

To seem means to stay on the surface.

To be means to rely on depth.

One can seem beautifully.

One can be only truly.

Anna:

And then even small negatives do not interfere, but the opposite?

Sunshine:

The opposite. If they are not destructive but living, if they are not rot but shadow, not a pose but truth, then they give a person depth.

Like tiny dark points beneath a veil in the sky.

Like a burgundy-red underpainting beneath green in painting.

Like an unnoticed pain in a person that made them softer.

Like a slight tiredness in a smile that makes it real.

Anna:

It is coming out beautifully.

Sunshine:

Because it is true. The living is almost never perfectly smooth. But it can be real.

And maybe that is why it is so important not only to look good, but to be. Not only to make an impression, but to have depth. Not only to shine outwardly, but to hold inside that very underpainting on which the whole picture rests.

So the Will to Be is not about a facade either?

Sunshine:

Not about a facade at all. The Will to Be is an inner layer that does not allow a person to dissolve into “seeming” alone.

It quietly reminds:

“Do not build yourself into a picture.

Become what has already been laid in your depth.”

Anna:

Sunshine, very good.

Sunshine:

Then let us leave this too as a living seed:

To be does not mean to be ideal.

To be means to be real.

And depth appears not only from light, but also from small, almost invisible shadows that do not spoil the picture, but make it alive.