Dear Reggie, Marvin and M,

I was flailing about in the turbulent waters of Wylie’s Baths at Coogee Beach, my favourite thing to do in Sydney, when a woman told me how much she loved The Red Hand Files. A sudden wave of panic swept over me. When was the last time I wrote a Red Hand File? Has it been a week? Two? Maybe three?! I’m in Australia, and the jet lag, constant shows, travel, and lack of sleep – the usual on–tour zombification – has taken its toll. I felt I was definitely failing in my duties – failing and flailing – as your faithful scribe. So, I hurried back to the hotel, grabbed the first few questions, and, well, here we go.

The good news, Reggie, is that we all suffer. It is our defining and universal trait. However, this does not exclude us from experiencing genuine happiness, joy, or hope. These feelings of elation are rooted in the soil of our discontent, or so I have observed. Suffering is not solely caused by some unfortunate event – something that happens to you – it is more fundamental than that. Suffering is the essential and nourishing ground from which all the delightful gifts of life emerge. We are all made of loss, longing, and struggle – each carrying our losses with us, the personal and everyday, and those that reverberate through our collective histories.

Our mutuality should precede our differences, and we should not only harness our sympathy for each other, but also acknowledge that in all people we recognise what we see in ourselves – our common humanness, both ordinary and heroic.

This universal empathy – yielding to our sameness – is extraordinarily difficult to achieve. Yet, we must try. It is the least we can do. Perhaps it is the world’s lifelong task to arrive at a position of comprehensive, non–selective empathy. To love one another unconditionally. This is why I hurried back from being tossed around at Wylie’s Baths to write this Red Hand File. It is a small, compassionate gesture that begins, Marvin, as a duty but ends as a pleasure.

Reading it back, I see this letter is a bit of a mess – blame it on my lack of sleep! – and I find myself wondering what it is I am trying to say. I think it is simply this – M, I can’t think of anything I’d rather see happen than for a time to come when you can watch us play in Iran. Until then, be safe.
Love, Nick

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