Friends, do you ever feel anxious? For living well in harmony, peace, tranquility, and for things generally going your way? For having luck? For good relationships within the family? For successful projects? For a good job? For simply being alive? I do feel it, and the more things go my way, the more I feel this anxiety. I haven’t fully understood yet where it all comes from.

One of my hypotheses is that some law of fairness is being violated. Why do some of my acquaintances face family issues while things are good for me? Or someone faces tragedy, or has to work too hard, or gets unlucky in small or significant ways. And then you think, "Lord, this seems unjust." It's as if I should suffer a bit to balance things out. I sometimes feel as if I’m getting all these life's blessings on credit. And it triggers me.

On the other hand, I'm skeptical about this feeling and look for deceit. I fear that by receiving ordinary human happiness, I might be losing out on something more crucial. But that slips away from me, just at the level of intuition.

And thirdly, regarding fairness again. It feels like my happiness might be causing suffering to someone else who is less fortunate. Sometimes, I even want to hide my joy. Like when you talk about your relationships with your kids to someone who doesn't have any, or about your wife to someone who’s single or recently divorced. Or about how nice it is to stroll through the woods and to quit IT, to someone who is desperate to get into IT for a good salary.

Even writing this text, I did it with a great sense of guilt, anticipating the pain it might cause to some readers. Although, being honest with myself, I fear the judgment of these people. I know you, dear and wonderful people, won’t judge me. But those little voices in my head still haven’t entirely lost their power and fuel my self-criticism.

"Constantine, whoever you are, you have the right to be!" This beautiful thought inspires me. Sending hugs to everyone! Goodnight!

... Here, I've just read Ksyusha a frightening chapter from Tom Sawyer about murder, graves, exhumed bodies...

Ksyusha lay there, unable to sleep. And I was sitting, writing notes. Then I went to pray with Ksyusha. We prayed for Ksyusha, for her sleep, for everything to be well. And then I prayed for the characters in the book: for the murderer, for the one who died, and for the others.

I remember myself in childhood, and even now. You watch a movie or read a book with an intriguing plot, main characters, and dangers. You read and pray for them to be alright. For them to live happily. You feel deeply for them, as if they are real.

Maybe they are real inhabitants of our lives. What do you think?

Storm, storm rages! It rolls from side to side within me.

I always craved calmness before. Thoughts that instilled fear or simply anxiety were unwanted companions. And I did whatever I could to calm down. Mostly, it helped to go and easily sleep at any time of the day or night.

But now it's different. I feel the anxiety and I want to utilize it. I want to see what it brings with it. What it's about. There's no pleasure in this, but there's energy, and I need to use that energy. In all this anxiety, a certain existential meaning has emerged. Value. A moment I don't want to just miss or lose. Since I started savoring such states, the usual quiet life inside me seems bland. Like a dull routine. Though everything is good in moderation.

And right now, I'm reading to Ksyusha about the adventures of Tom Sawyer. Today was the chapter about the murder of the doctor in the graveyard at night. I wonder if I was hasty to read this to a seven-year-old girl. I'll go and pray with her for the night.

And to you, goodnight friends.

Here it is, the twist. The opposition. The thought that challenges the Desire to become a psychotherapist.

All because I read posts from some Russian school of psychologists. Everything seems fine, but there's even more about where to find clients, how to do marketing, some typical answers and schemes. In my world, all of this was imagined differently. More sacred, delicate, significant.

I anticipate how complicated this path can be. How diverse people are. How powerless a therapist and even the individual themselves can be. And probably, one will need to come to terms with this powerlessness. Clinging to the remnants of meaningful gems in every person.

Kayaking is a wonderful thing. And the more wonderful it becomes, the quieter you go. Every paddle stroke on the water disrupts the beauty of silence and brings us closer to the end of kayaking. Similarly in life, we paddle to approach the end, rather than to live. On the other hand, when stuck in a dead-end, one needs to paddle hard to get out and move forward.

My dream: early morning kayaking in dense fog. Complete silence.

Profound, meaningful words get lost in fleetingness and become passwords.
"Christ is Risen! Indeed He is Risen!"
"Glory to Jesus Christ! Forever Glory!"
"Long Live Belarus! Long Live!"
"Glory to Ukraine! Glory to the Heroes!"

When you hear the first half, you know what response is expected from you.

If you don't give that response, you will be excluded from the community.
But the words themselves become passwords.
It doesn't matter what you think or what you want to say.
If you want to stay in the community, just say the right password.

This saddens me.

Kierkegaard passionately reflects on Abraham's faith, who took Isaac to Mount Moriah to offer him as a sacrifice. His beloved son. About that leap of faith into the abyss. Where there's truly nothing to hold onto, and only faith remains. Over the past year, I have changed my thoughts about Abraham's act many times. I still don't know where I've landed.

However, the question of the Leap of Faith has deeply moved me. Honestly, I can't really pray as long as there's ordinary human hope for a good outcome. But when there seems to be no chance at all, sometimes it breaks through. And that's a completely different kind of prayer. Now I've received support from Kierkegaard, but maybe some of you, my dear readers, have encountered something similar in your faith?

P.S.: One thing though, if someone dies, I can't pray with the hope that they will suddenly come back to life and emerge from their coffin like Lazarus.

I hid among the flowers
Tra ta ta ta ta
Such a good game
For a little boy

I'll walk along the path
Tra ta ta ta ta
With my net, touching
The topics of existence

I pick up a little snake
Tra ta ta ta ta
So it doesn't die from a ditch
I let it crawl to the grass

I want to think of the eternal
Tra ta ta ta ta
But for now, I'm carefree
So nonsense happens.

When I began my new AR activity, I formulated the goal as: to help other people in realizing their purposes and desires. One of the important criteria was a person's understanding of the meaning of their life, the purpose of their activity. Being around such people and talking to them brought me great joy. It inspired me. This way, I was connected to genuine meanings, even if they weren't mine, even if I didn't share all those meanings.

Now, having slightly uncovered a handful of my deep Desires (meanings), I've started to view others' Desires a bit differently. I better realize how they differ from mine. But this is where subjectivity matters. My meaning is solely mine. But with these people, what unites me is the importance of purpose in life, and the work of exploring the meaning of one's life.

Thank you for being together. With respect to your meanings!

We do not know each other
But serious questions have arisen
Revealing our pains
Nakedly, we stand confronting them

The whole world is unknown to one another
There is faith that a conversation is possible
Yet words consume all meaning
And without words, a silent prayer

I speak not the right words
Deepening the agony...
But know that I wish for good
And through pain, towards light, to the end...

For some reason, I started to feel nauseated by IT. Somehow, it's become repulsive. I had previously perceived it as some sort of computer game, just with real-life quests and real money. But now, after feeling nauseous in VR, after using ChatGPT for meaningless projects, after a week of trying to set up prompt communication with Midjourney, I'm losing faith in IT. It's very engrossing and takes me away from life, from people, from myself.

Illustration "Dull computer crap." The image was generated in Midjourney. The prompt text was generated in ChatGPT.

So Ksusha calls you at night, Kostya, to guide her through the dark corridor to the bathroom. Lyuba has climbed onto the bunk bed, her legs dangling near the steps, but she's so scared she calls for you. Laughing and yielding to their fears, you go and help. You strive to teach them to climb up and down, so that they won't be afraid next time... And you, little Kostya, you're still young, you're worried, and in your life, there's fear. And help comes to you, and it's expected of you not to be afraid of those little things. So, let's be small, helping each other, protecting one another.

My boundaries have passed through wonderful places, and my inheritance is pleasant to me. Psalm 16:6

I lean closer to the trees,
Feeling their warmth more and more,
Through the birdsong,
it shines, Illuminating my core.

We all need to live here a bit longer,
To inhale the fragrance of life,
That nature and people give,
Gifted just for the sake of it.

Everything will end, dear,
In a month, years, or this era,
Nature will undergo changes,
And there will be a different human.

And you know, we might fear,
That ChatGPT or a fool,
Will turn back the fateful clock,
Setting it loose upon the world.

We are birds, accustomed to fly,
Away from terror, war, and the mushroom,
And in our world with you,
The nest hangs in the wing's embrace.

Whether we fly or sit,
It doesn't matter,
Look...
The mushroom approaches...
Tightly grip my hand,
And that moment will be cherished!