Costa Petrashka ⁽¹³⁶⁾

Before, you might wake up in the middle of the night, your thoughts racing, knowing it will be hard to fall back asleep. And so, you'd go to the computer to work. You'd work, get tired, then return to bed... Now it's different, now it's interesting to walk at night, especially when there's a lot of snow, and through the window, it seems as if it's already daytime because everything is so bright. So, tonight, on the eve of the Nativity of Christ, I'm walking along with cleaning equipment, and from a new perspective, I'm discovering a small town. I wish you a Merry Christmas, the birth of Jesus Christ! Note: Translations might not capture the exact nuance of the original text but aim to convey the primary meaning and emotion behind the…

I hadn't taken a walk in a long time. I had become stagnant. My spirit had grown moldy from the daily routine. And then the Sun, along with the Mist, awakened me to life again. This was a few weeks ago, the day before Christmas on December 25th. My car was all iced up, so I couldn't drive to the starting point of my usual path. I just trudged straight towards it. At some point, I no longer wanted to head to my usual path; I just wanted to walk towards the sun. And so, I walked, taking new routes, discovering new landscapes. God gifted me the sight of a miraculous display of beauty once again. Powerful rays of light passed through my body, warming my heart, giving it hope and joy. I was deeply moved. And I remember that moment with gratitude now. Advice: Even when you're walking towards the sun, don't get stuck in the mud. You can use your brain and slightly bypass the danger and…

What do I want to do for love? So I don't bend, By the temptations that deep down, Make no sense to exist. That do not nourish, do not give life, But only temptingly buzz. Like the jingle of coins in the distance, Like deceit in my soul. It becomes a sin when I, Chasing after something else, Jeopardize my own soul, In the desire for eternal life. Today, there was such a walk in the forest, where I met myself. Appeal to Discipline on the 1st Day of the…

My beloved is ill today, Pain has come, but there's no fear. For like yesterday, she walks and drinks, Even though her back hurts a lot. Because she doesn't want to think about the terrible, Because she doesn’t want to admit it… That waking up tomorrow morning, I won't be able to kiss her. Everything will pass with joys and excitements, Life will be completely different. And I'll be tormented by unhappiness, Because of what wasn't there before. My beloved is ill today, Pain has come, and that fear arose. I'll run, hug, and we'll embrace. We'll kiss with joy, wow! - - - - - A few days later, Dasha got better. All is well! K.S.Petrashka / Szczytno / 10 Nov…

Right after the Christmas holidays, we had a chance to travel to Kyiv for some business. It was a great pleasure to photograph Kyiv at night. A lot has changed over this year, but the light will return to where it…

"Mom! Is dad leaving us forever?" Ksenia said from her bed when she saw me putting on my jacket and preparing to leave in the middle of the night. At that moment, I didn't know that soon I would be flying over the lights of the night city, thinking about its beauty. When you fly, you see countless lights from the windows of those who remain on the ground. You pull away from them, and yet you return to them. You feel the beauty of the flight, dream of flying far, observing, feeling, loving, and praying during scary moments. It's especially good to pray during take-off and landing. Planes fly very fast, sometimes there's not enough time to truly appreciate the beauty, to really feel like a bird. Today, as well, while flying over all those left on the ground, with empty thoughts, and only a feeling that it's very beautiful, I wandered over the nighttime tombstones. Even the children, seeing the first pictures, asked, "What is this colorful city?" And then, upon closer examination, they understood. Note: Translating poetic or figurative language can be challenging, as it often involves capturing the essence and mood of the original text, which may not always correspond directly to literal translations. І…

Having let me by the path, Allowing me to wander and play, My dear one goes home, To wait for me and greet me there. And I walk with deep gratitude, Wandering, searching for words, So that the cold heart might change, And from it, love would ignite. May our gazes be filled with love, May our days be satiated with affection, And in the air, may joy greet us, Under the guitar, both my voice and yours... K.S.Petrashka / Szczytno / 1 Nov…

A lot has happened in recent days, but I want to share like droplets of water.

Fog, dense fog. When there's fog outside, I'm not at home in the morning. It's not really morning anymore, but I'm still strolling around the lake. I observe the fog, the sun, the trees, and their reflections from different angles. I thought to write something, but mere reflections, without intense emotions or revelations, seem trivial and untouched. Because of this, I feel somewhat lost; I wanted to write, but I have nothing to say. I would not have written this text if not for one event. Something very joyful and human touched me. It turns out, I'm not the only one wandering around the lake, photographing how the sun breaks through the fog. How it reflects off the water. A tall man, he chooses angles and perspectives. He crouches down, slightly changes his position, chooses the moment for a shot. I slightly hesitate about what exactly attracted me in his actions, but I'm out of arrows to shoot (words to describe). He does all this, photographing against a beautiful backdrop of a glass of brandy. I think his pictures will be more colorful because the sun will not only pass through the fog and reflect off the water but will also be altered by the glass and the liquid between the glass. As I write this, I regret not getting to know him. Maybe he would've allowed me to take a few shots too. That's the power of beauty, its pervasive light that shines on every person. It stops everyone in their tracks for a moment to feel life differently. I hope that the one who is late for an important meeting today will find such a moment for beauty. The little train from Ramonkava, to help us all. P.S. A couple of sneaky photos of this…

The road to hell is paved with good intentions. Right now, I won't talk about my experiences or the perception of the world; it will be more of a reflection after a long conversation. This world, quite harsh, is not simple; it contains much suffering, pain, and trials. Some of us face these trials unprepared, suddenly. After struggling, but having traveled the path, they realize themselves that it was not an easy path, but anyone who goes will overcome. And then they start broadcasting their vision of this "harsh world" as a kind of norm. They start engaging in a good cause, "preparing" the younger ones for the fact that this world is very harsh. They see a mentoring mission in this. One might say they prepare for real life. They see the danger in someone thinking the world is good. That they will stay in ignorance of the world's harshness. These people with good intentions will educate the inexperienced, not even talking about the harshness, but showing it by example. To thoroughly prepare the young. What we get in the end: to harshness is added more harshness, but this harshness is supposedly justified by good intentions. It's like parents who beat their children with belts a little less than their parents beat them because they are humanists. But yes, without this, there will be no upbringing because the world is harsh. Maybe in these considerations, I mixed up many things, and everything is not so simple. But please, I even beg, STOP spreading harshness, stop being mentors of life. It's better to extend a hand of mutual assistance, acceptance, and love to one another. The harshness in the world will not disappear anyway, and we will be each other's support in which a person can stand in this complicated…

Walking, chased by fear, heading into the darkness. Yesterday, I thought I needed to step out of my comfort zone, wanted to walk into the forest at night. Felt how everything would constrict from fear, how I'd get anxious, be alarmed by every sound, listening intently, wishing it would end, longing to return home quickly, to lock the door behind me, to relish the experiences that had passed and to write about them. Because it's impossible to write about something without truly living it. Having thought about it yesterday, I decided that I didn't even need to go; it was terrifying just thinking about it. Thought I could just think, get scared, and write something. But I quickly fell asleep without writing anything. This evening, I needed to refuel my car, went to fill up, and saw my forest. Not nighttime, but it was dark. I should go. It's not late, but it's scary. I set off, walking and writing, feeling a mixture of emotions. I recall the words of Jesus Christ: "Are there not twelve hours of daylight? If one walks during the day, he does not stumble, because he sees the light of this world. But if someone walks at night, he stumbles, for the light is not in him." Yet I walk to Him at night, for where there's fear, there's a reliance on Him, there's a call to Him, there are thoughts about Him and the true self. Fear kills Love, but perhaps it does so when this fear is hidden, when we perceive danger as something external, something that prevents us from stepping into fear. I have reasons to blame myself, where out of fear, I stayed outside, not advancing in love. But fear, when you're already in it, is a peculiar thing. For such fear, it's essential to know why you're here, like a purpose, for what. Why did I wander into the darkness? To understand myself, to feel vulnerable, without various fantasies about myself. Felt it? Yes, I did. It's enough. I'm feeling overwhelmed. Want to run, but I walk. Walk quickly. I wonder if I can walk slowly? This experiment is quite challenging for me. I can walk slowly only when I have good self-control, automatically I quicken my pace. I see a light, light in the darkness is always God to me. It's joyful to see the light. The light is a guide. Poor moths are drawn to light. Maybe they get their reward for it? Ah, I caught the moment when everything cuts off and feels colder inside. A piercing terror from a fallen branch nearby. I walk back, breathing, recalling moments from the past when I was so scared in the night forest. It's only around seven in the evening. Where's the calmness? Where's the peace? - It's not there. But I accept myself as I am, because I have the right to be, no matter who I am, whatever I feel. Jesus the Savior, help all those who are scared now, all those who are at…

And in the morning, I wake up first. I head towards the bathroom to take a shower, I open the blinds on the windows, stretch out, look out the window, and there's something unclear there. Ahhhh, strong fog!!! I need to leave urgently, otherwise, I'll miss out. The memory of that beauty in the fog doesn't leave me at peace. I rush into the car; the windows and mirrors have frozen over, but so be it, I don't have far to drive. I arrive and walk down the path; it's chilly, the sun is already high, and in another place, it's unlikely I'd recreate the magic. But perhaps I'll see something new? I walk… walk… some bird is chirping, really, like a gate... seems like a magpie... I encountered some branches, photographed them from various angles. It's so intriguing that when you look at them from above, they're white and beautiful. But from below, they're dark, sometimes even black. I reach my base and feel that my feet are wet; I understand why, but why are my eyes wet? Perhaps because they have dried for so long? My eyes dried out, unknown for what reason, perhaps because of human cruelty. I feel that I'm becoming more rigid. I feel it looking at myself from the side. Maybe I'm just starting to realize that I'm mortal? It's probably good that I began to understand, as I began to cling to life, to people, to beauty. Before, I always postponed everything. Thinking I first need to fulfill all duties, and then live afterward. I was always in a hurry to achieve something to start living. But to simply start living, it was frightening, I lacked the courage. And only impulsively I allowed myself to live, allowed with a feeling of guilt, as if I had done something wrong. Now everything is changing, I live more because time is limited. I sat in my nest, I'll go... I'll fly home. They have already woken up there. There's a lot of interesting stuff today, even a bit scary. I walk back... inhaling the air with closed eyes... searching for new forest scents... And then Dasha woke up and asked: Where am I? Suddenly, I felt more cheerful and ran…

The Holy Spirit comes to me, either through salty tears in my eyes, through the encounter with marvelous droplets on the grass, or as now through droplets on my body that relieve me from fever. In the photo is a blade of grass from the day before yesterday. It's curious that only on it there was dew, while others had none. I even returned to take a…

Ksusha, what did you draw on your leg? Leave it, Dad, it's beautiful. No, take it off, or the leg might get infected. The next morning we go to the kindergarten by car. As we walk from the car, we occasionally have to stop and carry Ksusha. She won't let her leg be touched. It hurts her a lot. I can see she wants my comfort because she's in pain. But something inside me stops me from showing her compassion. It's the consequence of her own foolishness. Indeed, I didn't remove the "beautiful" elastic band on leg from the candy. That day was definitely not Ksusha's day, her leg didn't get better. And she was limping when I picked her up from the “snack time”. Ksusha cried, the teachers were very concerned about what happened and if it was being treated. I explained with irritation and tried in Polish to explain about the elastic band. We probably walked in silence. Because she's at fault, and she didn’t listen to her parents who speak the truth. Meanwhile, in the evening, I start to run a fever, feel miserable, and all plans are canceled. Giving up on everything, I go to bed early. Dasha brings me a drink, the kids peek in. Before I fall asleep, I shout to another room: "Massage her leg!" I fall asleep... I wake up when everyone's already asleep. I have a sore throat, I feel hunched. I lay down. I feel very sad. I wish someone would comfort me. It's especially hard because I understand why this happened to me. In the morning, I went to the forest. I even saw a moose there. The sun warmed me up, and I took off one of the two hats. Then I climbed into the observation post to watch the birds. There was a strong wind blowing through my head, and it felt somewhat chilly. But with the adrenaline from the encounter with the moose, it was all worth it. "Beautiful," but the rest doesn't matter! Excitedly, I head home, once again with a small treasure, "a spotted moose". On the way, I stop by the store for a snack, realizing I should treat myself with some ice cream. I take a small one and quickly eat it so the kids wouldn't see. Well, that's the whole diagnosis. So, here I lie, wanting someone to pity this fool, while everyone sleeps. And I ask God: "Lord, allow me to feel pity for myself." I felt warm, and I immediately thought of my daughter. My whole heart felt sorry for her. A father's daughter. I fall asleep…

Sometimes in the evening, I want to do something. My heart aches because it's impossible even to imagine what I'd want to. Something fundamentally meaningful, something very, very important. So that the echo of this action or deed would last forever. And here I sit and suffer because I can't think of such a task or activity for myself. Everything seems trivial, meaningless, unattractive. Sometimes, after suffering, I imagine some tasks for myself, wind myself up, and visualize taking the first step for an endeavor that will define my entire future. And right then, in the middle of the night, I start doing it. Because if I don't do something like that, I'll perish from my own torment. I'd lose my mind. So, comforting myself, fueled by something distant and very significant, I take that decisive step. You probably understand that in a week or two, I'll be suffering in the same scenario. And by the way, I'm writing this now because this very thought has gripped me tightly. Probably writing about it is a better solution than all the activities I started before. In general, I take too many first steps but don't continue walking that path. I used to suffer because of this, but now I say: What's the point of continuing in something you don't truly believe in? Darn! There's no point! One should learn to deviate from the wrong path even faster than…