forest ⁽¹⁰⁾

And you know, I went into the woods. I just walked. Then I just hugged a tree. Then my memories took me back to childhood and, full of joy, I made a snowball, threw it at the tree, then another one, and another. And not a single one hit. I calmed down and went to shake a spruce branch so that the snow would fall. Then I hugged the tree again. And in the end, I destroyed a pile of snow. I really liked it. One hour in the woods, but so much warmth. So much simple and joyous.

And here is a 2-minute video about our reboot in the forest.

The heat is unbearable.

Only at night does it somewhat relent. I woke up around five, checked on the children. Decided to go sleep in the hammock, while the air is still fresh. Wrapped myself in a blanket and went outside. From the porch, I saw the edge of the blazing dawn. From that moment, I no longer belonged to myself. Determinism. I got dressed quickly, which is always hard when Dasha is sleeping in the room with the wardrobe, and I can't find my socks.

I run in my slippers. About three kilometers to the vantage point in the forest. I keep worrying that the red hue will disappear and I won't catch its full glory. Where does this come from in me? Why did I decide that it's beautiful? Year after year, I recall my impressions.

When Dasha and I went to the sea, we often encountered them, especially in recent years. It was a rule to make breakfast in the twilight and then drive, rush to the loungers, waiting for the sun to rise. And we always hurried, because we were always a bit late.

And even before that, many years earlier. I went mushrooming with my parents. How all this early waking, the joint gathering, the departure to a deserted place. Everything pierced with silence and freshness. Once they decided not to take me because I was sound asleep. I still can't forget that sad incident.

And even earlier than that. In the summer, with my grandmother, I stayed overnight at my great-grandmother's house. And then I was woken up. We went out to the porch. We did something resembling morning gymnastics. And watched the rising sun. I was told that it was very beneficial, but only early in the morning (I didn't know about cortisol back then).

Maybe when I was born, like a little lion king, I was brought out at dawn to greet life?

Who knows when the story of this love began, and which strings of my soul the morning sun touches...

I step out to my beloved forest edge. The sun illuminates everything around, the eye rejoices, the heart fills with love, everything is embraced by trust and security. The forest is alive. This patch of forest can be easily overlooked from a helicopter or Google Maps. But who can fathom its depth? Everything that happens in this patch? The forest is vast in its essential depth. One could study it endlessly, and it will always be different...

The sun hid behind dark clouds, the wind howled, the forest plunged into darkness. Fear engulfed me. I don't feel safe. Even though I have a flashlight in my hands, and in that flashlight burns a tiny flame. But what is this little flame for such a forest, to illuminate it? I don’t know what to do. The memory of how the forest looks in the light inspires me. Now I don't recognize the paths, the trees. Everywhere I look, I'm scared. I am afraid of the forest, I want to illuminate it. I want to somehow make it bright. The forest remains silent; I can't find out why it's in darkness, why it's struggling, if it will ever end and if it will end at all?

My language is the language of the flame in the flashlight. It wants to break free and light up the entire forest. Branch by branch, tree by tree. My flame wants to save the whole forest from darkness. And this has happened before. It broke free, and the forest burned in flames. The forest burned to the ground. Light spread, but it wasn't true light. It was a destructive light.

This time, I entered the dark restless forest. I left the flame in the flashlight. The flame remained silent and listened to the forest. The tiny light of the flame in the flashlight gently warmed the forest. The forest knew that I, with my flashlight, was waiting for light. Both the forest and I knew we just had to wait. Understand and accept the darkness. Allow it to exist in the forest. Not to fight the darkness so fiercely, not to lose what you love. The forest also feared the flame. It knew the flame could burn everything down.

We stayed silent for a long time. We built trust in each other. We allowed the darkness to exist. The forest began to feel better. The forest began to speak, and I just quietly listened. With each word the forest uttered, the clouds dispersed, and the sun illuminated branch by branch, tree by tree.

Now when there's darkness in the forest, I'll find the strength within me to go and wait, to go and listen. I don't want to lose love; I want to wait for the light.

I've badly slept.
I've badly eaten.
I've barely died today.

We came to the forest.
I hugged a pine.
Wandered with Dasha into its depths.

...
The forest speaks in depth.
About my feelings, my dreams.

"The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear its sound, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit."
Gospel according to John 3:8

Having opened a window of your mind for the Gospel, do not forget to also open the window of the heart. Then it will be thoroughly good, and the Spirit will live in you.

I figured out a lot here, all because yesterday we were experimenting with ventilation in the car. Even before the trip, I was concerned about whether air from one anti-mosquito window would be enough. It turned out at night that it's not at all enough. It’s unbearable. There’s a window - there's no air. Living (sleeping) is unbearable.

We decided, quickly, to make another anti-mosquito window.

And then Happiness, Joy, and Fulfillment came into our life.

Every other minute, a sea-pine breeze could fly into the window, and it was so inspiring. I could not sleep for a long time, I could not get enough of it, waiting for such visits of the Breeze in my life.

In the photo: the sky at 2 o'clock in the night in my window.

Dog, dog, dog... I walked and pondered.

...Yesterday, I was reading about the mechanisms of creating phobias. The next section was about how to deal with them through logotherapy. But I didn't read it. That's why I turned back in my morning walk, a hundred meters before the dog that blocked my path.

I had already encountered it last time, and Dog barked at me fiercely then.

And this time, all those same mechanisms described in the book came into play. From the middle of the walk, thoughts started swirling around that dog I was supposed to meet today. Different scenarios played out in my mind, imagining how it could be and what I would do.

I tried to cling to the meaning of my walk, to think about the meaning rather than the dog. It worked only when a big deer ran past right in front of me, and my attention shifted to the little fawn following behind.

But thinking about meaning didn't last long. There lies the dog in the middle of the road. And there I am, turning back. We'll meet again next time. Maybe I'll cook some meat for Dog, and we will stay friends. 

But today I saw deer. And there, another deer appeared, the phone camera capturing their gaze at each other. I even came up with a saying: "Who wakes up early meets deer in the forest."

Oh, here's another one. Maybe someone knows which bird sings so sweetly and hisses like a cat at the end?"

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.

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!