Suspicion

Linh drove into the courtyard, a vast courtyard embracing the building like an enormous castle. An orchard of fruit trees hung heavy with fruit that fell and lay uncollected, with only birds and squirrels flitting about eating half and leaving half. Linh walked towards the door; two guards came close, looked him in the face and then took him to a private room, extremely luxurious, where a stout, imposing, wealthy but melancholy old man lay on a sickbed. Servants and doctors came and went quietly, attending to him. The old man signalled the servants and guards to leave so that he could talk with Linh.
Linh sat down in the chair beside the bed, took the old man's hand with sympathy and asked softly:

• Are you feeling any better, sir?
  The old man shook his head gently and said:
• How could I feel better, my boy? I think the day I leave this world is not far off. My ambitions were far-reaching and I have been very successful; I always thought death was somebody else's business, not mine. But after three years of fighting illness, my illusions have shattered and I understand that I too must die.

The old man pondered a moment and went on:

• I called you here because I remember the time you and I argued over a way of life. At that time I believed you were wrong. I managed to slip out of the case easily. You could not convict me. Although I won, your character and qualities made a strong impression on me. Do you remember what we argued about?
  Linh nodded and said:
• Yes, I still remember. I summoned you to the investigation office to question you about the deaths of a married couple in which I believed you were involved. After approaching the matter in many ways, I could not make you admit any involvement at all, but by instinct I understood that you had directed your underlings to kill that couple to punish them for daring to skim off some of your money. You had prepared the killings so carefully that even I, reputed to be a genius at solving cases, had to concede defeat.
  When I could no longer charge you, I had no choice but to argue with you about ways of life, as if to salvage something from my efforts. I reproached you for being rich yet refusing to live decently, asking what was the point of accumulating money forever. I said I was very proud and at peace because I had never lived for myself. No one had ever managed to bribe me. I was happy to live so idealistically even though many people called me a fool.
  After many arguments, suddenly you slipped and made a remark. You said that people are good and bad, not everyone good and not everyone bad. However there are more bad people than good. To protect oneself, first of all think that people are bad. When you think that people are bad, you are always on your guard and always set up defences. Whatever they say or do, you must reason that they intend to exploit you, harm you, deceive you, kill you. On the basis of that suspicion, of always thinking ill of others, you guard against and deploy forces to surround everyone. If things develop and you see that the other person does nothing bad to you, fine; but if they make a move, you already have every measure ready to destroy them at once.
  You believed that this pessimistic view had saved you from countless plots against you in your life and kept your enterprise firm.
  After that I kept thinking about it.

The old man nodded and said:

• You really do have a good memory. And I must admit that the view of "always thinking ill of others" has kept my enterprise firm to this day. I am about to die and no rival dares play tricks on me, because my defence system is everywhere, even deep inside their own ranks.
  No enemy dares play tricks on me, but that very view of "always thinking ill of everyone" has slowly harmed me without my knowing. My wives also found ways to leave me, because they realised they had never been trusted or truly loved. Nor could they touch this vast fortune, because I had blocked everything.
  My children hate me, because they too realised that their father had never loved them wholeheartedly; in that love there was always suspicion, control, guardedness and readiness to punish. One after another they found one excuse or another to leave and live in distant lands.
  Now all that is left around me are attendants who draw wages and work silently like robots. They too understand that the slightest slip that makes me suspicious means losing their jobs, even their lives. I understand that I am utterly alone. And it seems that loneliness is the most terrible punishment of all. I cannot trust anyone, so I cannot love anyone. And no one truly loves me, because they fear me too much.
  When I discovered that I had lived in this world without a single person who truly loved me, I understood that such a life is a failure, not a success.
  I have watched a few spy films, and those characters are also careful and suspicious, but sometimes they find someone who loves them wholeheartedly. They are still more successful than I.
  I called you here to confide in you because I feel that you are the first person in my life that I do not think ill of. You are the first person in my life to whom I cannot apply the philosophy of suspecting from the very start. I want to ask you to help me do some things that I could not do while I was healthy and alive: help people in difficult circumstances.

Linh took the old man's hand and said with emotion:

• Recently I have been practising stillness at a stillness club on the outskirts of the city. I hope you will get well so that I can take you there to meet the people who practise stillness, so that you will see there are still very many people in the world of whom you have no right to think ill from the start.
  The old man smiled. 🤶

Suspiciousness is an extremely careful way of life; carefulness is a kind of cleverness; and cleverness seldom fails. But too much carefulness and too much suspicion create a distance between us and everyone else. Too much suspicion is also an insult to honest people, even though such people make up a small proportion.

Sometimes we must also take a little risk in order to love and to hope. Life is not always safe, after all. If we remain forever fearful and suspicious, we will be safe only in a prison of our own making. Everyone needs safety in order to be at peace and survive, but everyone also needs a little daring in order to soar.