I was writing a note about the importance of preserving health for old age. Because if in old age I cannot think or act, it will be very, very bad.
What will you be able to do in old age, even if you are incapable of most things? (I asked myself).
I must be able to love.
What else can you do?
I can believe and I can desire.
How are these things interconnected?
I don't know if it comes naturally, but it seems: Desire = Faith * Love.
How do you differentiate these words for yourself?
Love - it's love for a Person. Faith - it's love for God. Desire - it's the longing for Love and Faith to flourish eternally.
Aren't you confusing anything?
It seems I'm confusing everything, but let it be so.
And what do these reflections give you?
If we consider time and all the things we manage to do within this time, it's like an airstrip with flies that we enthusiastically and energetically launch in different directions, like tiny planes. It's important to attach seeds of eternity to these flies. So that more flies carry and sow the seeds of eternity: Love, Faith, and Desire.
At first, all public transport stopped for a day. Then writing, bathroom breaks, sniveling, running noses. Glance at my phone, not stressing. We pick up the kids, pack our stuff. Occasionally, I check the time. We leave. Navigate the route, jaw clenches, unease in the chest. Full throttle. Stinky sweat drips down my back, soaking my favorite hoodie. My ears buzz from fatigue, my temples from global injustice. Why did I think I had enough time? It's a blur now. There's a large bridge before the station to cross to our platform. My fatigue shifts to heavy breathing; I sense we made it in time. The aromatic aftermath of the rush stays with me. I conscientiously go to buy tickets from the machine. Five minutes later, I despise the German language, ticket machines, and myself. I figured it out, but we missed the train. Saved 8 euros though. Rush again, the kids are restless, not sensing the urgency. Lyuba gets offended, insists she's Lyuba, not restless. Ahh, another ticket machine. But this one seems more sophisticated. Ahhh, I can't get it right, ahh! Laid the laptop on the ground, chose tickets. Why did they get pricier? There's a discount. 45 euros, pay, pdf. We rush to the platform. The screen displays our train. And there it is. We sprint inside. Asked a passenger if this was our train, he nodded in agreement. Offered to double-check, asked a German if this goes to Cologne. He confirmed. I felt heroic. Settled in, chose seats, exhaled. Wondered why our train departs in a minute when ours is in 10? Silence. Maybe this isn't ours. I sit, doors close. We move. AAAAAHHHHH. It isn't. Ahhhh!!!! What to do? Ahhh? How could this happen? Options, checks, Google. The cost of the mistake + 55 euros to get off at the next stop, on the train we're already on. Anxiety mounts. Maybe they won't notice? Maybe they will? If they do, it'll be a disaster. Bought the ticket for the train we're currently on. Controller checks in 5 minutes. Sweaty relief and satisfaction from the decision. Scanned the QR, like everything was supposed to be. Everyone to the bathroom in turns. The girls are growing, it's harder to hold them over the toilet. The flush is as powerful as a black hole in space. Waited too early to disembark. Lyuba tripped multiple times before the door while the train waited for permission to cover the last kilometer. The train wedged itself against the station. The Gothic cathedral crowded, it seems easier for people from the station to pass through the cathedral's doors. People with luggage obscure the skies. Cars pollute the air. How to see one of Germany's oldest cities through this? Augmented reality is impossible here. Perhaps it's needed only in boring towns? No time for that now. Then we walked, walked, ate, bathroom, wiped the floor, yelled at the kids, cleaned up, left the leftovers, walked, listened to the crowd of environmental protestors, walked, ate, charged the phone, crowds, crowds, crowds, the LEGO store, put boxes in their place, herded the kids to the exit, escaped, walked on, terrible service at a famous café, decisions, Google, dreamed of home with forbidden food and complete relaxation. The museum is close, really cool, but not compatible with sweaty hoodie and muddy socks. Good thing there are many places to sit. Life becomes interesting again. Two things were recommended in Cologne: Visit the Cathedral and try the beer. I don't drink beer, and it's unclear if they make non-alcoholic. Ate, drank, bathroom, dressed, left, throttle, had enough time, boarded, still 30 minutes left. Good thing we got the LEGO giveaway, no background noise. The right train came, we moved to the second floor for a better view, no seats, sat without windows, jiggled around, mustered strength, kept searching for window seats. Found some. Placed kids further away. Relaxation ensued. Outside, it's beautiful, silence around, Arabic talk and Slavic request to bring kids closer. We decline, lazily enjoy. Soon we transfer from one train to another. All's well, timely, and close. Rush, exit to platform via elevator with a queue. The first group went without us. We'll make it. The second group went with us. Barely squeezed in. Positioned so the kids won't get crushed. In an hour, Borussia Dortmund's match. Wish you'd go faster. Everyone exited at the next stop. Exited, yay, only one km left to home. Have to go through the store, we fly out tomorrow. Store, all was good until the scream, "Daddy - need to pee". This store didn't have a bathroom, suggested another. The other said yes, but we'd have to wait. We wait, learn patience. Restrooms after numerous flights of stairs. A good bathroom. Made it. Barely got out. Got out. Then a bottle of non-alcoholic exclusive Cologne beer whizzed by me. Left many questions and thoughts. Craved relaxation, to shed the day's tension. But the beer bottle didn't assist, so I decided to convert my tension energy into this text I'm writing. Finished writing. The kids are asleep! Time to read. Realizing deeply, I love my Dasha very much. Kiss.
How suffocating it feels, how heavy when you've tried to suffocate but couldn't. Why is that? Perhaps it's because initially, you come and press your heel onto someone's neck. And there's a desire to stretch and stand taller. And you suffocate. Why? - To be above. To bring them to the light. To dazzle with your wisdom. And you crumble, realizing that your heel breaks against steel necks. They are strong, and at some point, they understand that not everything is right in your head. And they realize that your flexible heels slide on their unyielding steel. It's unbearably hard for me to admit that I suffocate, yet time and again I place my feet on others' necks. I can't stand myself.
Another matter is when the necks aren't made of steel. Then it feels like you've performed a high-tech operation with your heel. Helped someone see life from a different perspective... Disgusting.
"Hello everyone, I've finally mustered the courage to write! Actually, no, life pressed me so much that I had to come out of my shell. Besides, it's not even me writing this text, but some guy, a friend of my husband's. All because I don't write texts, I make awesome... "
I felt a great emotion when I revealed myself in this way (as the invisible author of the advertisement) and those who would post such an ad. To write in the name of a girl, and then in the text itself admit that the writer is a man, and then continue writing in the name of the girl. The lie in the text is disclosed by sincerity (hyper-sincerity), and then continues with falsehood. All this arises in my head, a kind of turmoil with mixed feelings.
That's often how it was with me. It used to be even more frequent.
Hyper-Sincerity is just that, formally sincerity. It pursues something bigger, something else. Because hyper-sincerity isn't self-sufficient. I feel it's an emotional-manipulative moment when, saying sincerely and very sincerely, we pursue some unspoken (or better yet, explicitly stated) objectives. This creates a sort of brew that transports us to the emotional realm.
The reader or listener pays attention to this; they are not defended against such moves because they begin to feel the state possibly felt by the person who wrote that text or says those things. They understand how they would feel if they wrote or said something similar. And it moves them; they witness something quite uncomfortable, something worth noticing.
And here I wanted to write that the author of all this doesn't feel anything. But I paused and felt. Feels, indeed. This combination of feelings inspires and energizes.
In general, hyper-sincerity made me strong when I was afraid of being exposed for lying. Or when there was something that could be revealed in me, something very painful. I strive to vocalize it through hyper-sincerity and stop being afraid.
A person who neither defends nor flees from fear might not need to use hyper-sincerity. And it would be good to live without the strain of hyper-sincerity. I think I'm on the way to that.
4 in the morning, my inflamed brain woke up and won't let me fall asleep. Why do I have such a strong desire for recognition of my ideas? Why is there so much unbearable belief in what I do? No, not a big one, but a small one. I see how neural connections have converged and aligned so that, to resolve a situation, I see only one solution. The one I suggest. I am ready to stubbornly stand with arguments in defense of my decision, like a tiny dictator of the lowest level.
Projecting my state onto real dictators, I might understand them better. The insatiable desire to implement their truth and vision in the entire world. The manic desire for their truth and their genius to be accepted by every person on Earth. And anyone who cannot fathom this genius becomes either an enemy or an uneducated fool. Having written this, I feel lighter. I can head out for a nighttime walk.
P.S. I decided to search for an illustration for the post and googled "Dictator" in pictures. But I found a book called "Dictator" by my very favorite Ulf Stark. Now I'll read it.
I read it, a cool illustrated book for children. Logvinov did the translation into Belarusian. But I found it in Russian. If anyone's interested, comment or DM, and I'll send the link. Now, definitely off for a walk.
Today, I met an unusual Belarusian abroad. One who, not being an immigrant or a wanderer, found himself beyond the border. A bus driver.
I asked for the Wi-Fi password. He gestured with his hands and said: There's no password. Then he clarified that there's no Wi-Fi either. But if something is really critical, they'll help out.
There was warmth in him and a detachment from political issues. He probably has his own thoughts. But he lives, breathes, travels from one end to the other. Helps people. Just a regular, unique, warm, wonderful person. And I missed such an environment. Almost forgot how it feels. And today, I felt the breath of Belarus. I don't want to lose this piece of Belarus. I want to keep it in my heart.
I get lost, hide, rejoice, but I can't find my place. This usually happens when our eyes meet, when I feel something very pleasant and touching. It was like that yesterday. Dasha wrote such a poem: [link to the poem]. And she read it to me, eye to eye. I freeze and barely contain the turbulence inside me. It's hard to find words to describe what's happening inside me. I feel like I'm hearing something I don't deserve. As if it's a mistake. And then a moment passes, and this sweet mirage dissipates. It seems that this can't be true. The pleasant can't be real. These words, eye to eye, make me feel exposed. They pierce and highlight all my imperfections. They scream, feeling dangerously heavy and uncomfortable.
And again, we return to Joy-Existence. How hard it is to return to "Unique joy-existence", to the greatest value of "You are a Human!". Regardless of achievements, appearance, character, or intelligence. "I am a human!" - and that's enough. Nothing can give us more than this word. Starting with this "I am a Human", one can Live, Love, and be loved, rejoice, search, and find. And nothing else is needed. No conditions, statuses, or parameters. This is enough; starting with this, one can Live!
I'll say Yes to Life! I'll say to my Beloved - Thank you, my dear, for being!
Here they are, growing out of one pot. Brothers and sisters to each other. Beautiful and slightly different. Leaning away from each other a bit. Someone said - towards the sun. But not just towards the sun. They need space for themselves. They need some safe distance and uniqueness. Just like people. It's their right. And it doesn't diminish love. It's like looking at paintings; you don't get much if you press your nose against them. The same goes for relationships; there needs to be some space. To breathe deeply. To see more around you. And here they are together: Curved and straight, opened and not, closer and farther from the sun. Giving warmth and joy to us. Simply because they exist. I hope that we also bring joy to God just by our existence. This is our primary achievement and our main value. We exist!
Death. Dark and cold, painful. That's how I read in books and heard from others. But in my mind, death seemed quite different. Unclear how. In theory, it's something bad, but in practice, I never felt horror at the fact that someone died. On the contrary, I often imagined this scenario in my head. With obvious benefits and changes in my own life. I was repulsed by such thoughts, such disdain for relatives and acquaintances. I do not agree with these thoughts, but they came to me. To this, I can add my perception of death as a bright, life-affirming hope. Hope for how good it is for a person to meet God, with eternal joy. How good it is for him, how he is now always in space, knows everything, and is certainly not sad. How he met all his loved ones, hugged, and rejoiced. And of course, every person goes straight to Heaven! And this hope, it is like faith, some great certainty. I truly believed that this is how it is.
Wavering
I close my eyes. I understand that I live for myselfч. I don't care about other people, maybe sometimes. But I want it to be different, I want to love everyone, to be kind, and never to be bad. Or else they will judge, they will think I am bad if they know what's in my mind. And my calm attitude towards the death of loved ones does not give me peace. Perhaps I invented the great joy after death to justify my indifference to the death of loved ones. After all, I am not worried because I believe and see how good they are now. This thought torments me and gradually goes away. And again, I am fine, again I believe, again I am certain.
A week ago, I boasted of my certainty about the fate of people after death. And a reasonable person says to me: No one knows what's after death. No one knows... How cold and painful it is in the soul. No one knows. Life after these words can never be the same. No one knows. That's when I wavered, that's when I was shaken. Where did that confidence go? How to live on? Huh?
Escape
I love the morning, I love to walk, breathe, listen, and watch the day begin. Yesterday, someone told me that with my early walks, I meet God. Yes, truly. How can one not agree? I haven't read prayers for a long time, but I continue to meet God. I am very pleased with this arrangement. And there are many proofs that it's exactly this way. I tried listening to audiobooks during my walks, but it didn't stick. I walk, and I think about life, about my loved ones, about God. I thank Him for today. Especially grateful when, passing through the forest, I hear a bird, or the enchanting scents intoxicate me. And when I see something beautiful, I'm also very grateful. I perceive all this as received gifts, found treasures, like some unexpected windfall that cannot be acquired. Just wake up in the morning, and go search.
Today was special. I barely got up, the alarm was snoozed about 7 times, so instead of a good morning, I ended up waking closer to seven. It happens to me that if I oversleep a bit, the mood isn't great, and in general, I don't feel like getting up. But today was an unusual morning. I knew exactly that I was going to meet God. And that inspires. The kids were already rustling in their room, could wake up soon, and then the meeting with God would have been overshadowed. Quickly, I went to the door, and decided to put on my shoes outside. The door closes, and already I feel lighter. They won't catch me here. I go for a walk with a clear conscience and complete freedom.
The First Treasure
When I approached the forested asphalt path, I felt joy from the fact that the morning fog had not yet dispersed and was still thick. With gratitude, I stored this treasure in my treasure box. The beauty of the morning is that it brings a somewhat abstract and highly dynamic substance to the material world. Fog, which hides from the sun. It's evident that the fog remained mostly where it was shielded by trees, hills, and the forest. And only the new rays of light pierced through it. These sun rays materialized, making the entire path of sunlight visible. Like air that glows in certain places. As if in a dusty room, a bright ray of light enters through a window, and now its path is clearly visible in the reflection of floating dust. It's interesting because these rays are what destroyed the fog. It turns out that the subject of my fascination is the process of the fog's destruction. One could equate it with the burning of fire.
The satisfaction from such a treasure is immense; I take photos, observe the surroundings. Not many birds, so the whole impression is visual. I catch myself feeling satisfaction in a quantitative manner, glad that there is more fog than usual, or perhaps even more than I've ever seen before. In short, I measured with a metaphorical ruler and realized that I should rejoice. Although simple aesthetic pleasure was present too. How all of this is complex and confusingly mixed in my head. I wish it were clear, conceptual, and predictable.
More Treasures
I keep walking forward, because I'm always curious: what's ahead? What could be there? How might it be? It's a mystery waiting to be solved, a treasure that must be found. There are so many treasures on our path, tiny ones, grand ones, prepared just for us. I love collecting treasures, love making discoveries, accepting something unbelievably free of charge.
At some point in my journey, I see just a dark fog, so much fog that I can hardly see anything. This mystery, this limited field of vision, is so tempting, where with every step something new is revealed, where you can't see far, meaning you can't predict what awaits you ahead. Wonderful conditions for discoveries, for new impressions. One can dream that with just one more step, something incredible will appear.
I deviate from my usual path, taking a small trail among the trees. Fear rises within me. I'm afraid of boars, dogs, people, or maybe something else. I fear the unknown and yet I'm drawn to it; everything is mixed up. But the desire for something new prevails. So, I just keep walking, even though I'm scared. After a while, I emerge into a field. A large mown field, entirely shrouded in fog. The sun hangs low above this mist, large, visible, and perfectly shaped. And the entire field is dotted with white patches. It's the fog caught in the spider webs. There are so many webs in the field that it wasn't immediately obvious what they were.
Invisible to All
And here I am, in the midst of the field. I usually don't like walking across fields; it feels awkward. It's not a path or a road. Fields are typically in plain view. There's always this critical voice in my head, wondering, what will people think? What am I doing here? Usually, but not today. The fog envelops me, protecting me from prying eyes. I realize no one can see me, nor will they, as I can't see anything beyond a handful of earth in front of me and the hazy sun pointing the way.
For the first time, I felt like the character "Hedgehog in the Fog". I walk and think, can this really be happening? Walking aimlessly across the field, aware that I can't see what lies ahead, there's a surreal quality to it. It's very much like real life. You shield yourself with justifications, hide behind lofty goals or actions, but in reality, you're just wandering, understanding little, yet compelled to move forward. And so, you press on.
The Earth Burns Beneath My Feet
Suddenly, I see how the forest consumes a part of the sun. It becomes clear that I'm approaching some edge. About 100 meters ahead, the field ends, the forest begins, and beyond it, the sun gets swallowed. It's beautiful to watch the sun transform, hiding behind the trees. It's particularly captivating with the ever-present fog. Beautiful, intriguing…
But at some point, I realize that it's not just beautiful anymore. Something grander is happening. The space around me burns like the burning bush before Moses. It's extraordinary, mesmerizing, astonishing. Everything unfolding paralyzes me and screams: this is incredible. It's unimaginable that something can be this beautiful. Impossible to conceive, or even to dream about. My heart fills with joy, gratitude, wonder. Thoughts race through my head, this is it, this is the long-awaited encounter with God. An encounter with beauty, mystery, wonder, something impossible and incomparable.
Through the trees and the fog, rays emanate from the sun in every direction. These beams illuminate everything in their path. They fall evenly onto the ground before me, rise to the sky, and spread to the sides. I witness and feel the incredibility of what's happening to me right now. I take many photos. I want to preserve this, I want to share this miracle. For some reason, I really want others to agree that this is a true miracle. Though it's for me, my intimate, personal wonder. After these thoughts, I stop taking photos, but I can't leave, even though it's long past time to return. I stand, unable to leave, not wanting to depart. I pray, thank, rejoice, look, and can't believe my eyes. I reflect on my life, my path, which is also in the fog, where it's unclear where I'm going, what I'm doing here, or where I might end up. But this miracle gives me hope. Go on, wander, search, listen to your heart. And you will find Me, you will meet Me, and it will be the most anticipated encounter of your life, a meeting that will more than make up for all these wanderings in the fog.
To Home
My heart was filled with joy, faith, a miracle, and immense gratitude for such a response to my longing, to my search.
I went home, no, I didn't just walk, I practically flew. Inspired to return home and share everything that had happened to me.
The day continued; it was a very challenging one. Yet, the miracle of the morning transformed and recolored all the events of that day. It gave hope, light, and love to all difficult questions.
Grandma Toma
In the evening, we learned that the life of my Dasha's beloved grandmother had come to an end. Grandma Toma quietly departed for the other world. Tears, silence, conversations, prayers, watching movies, explaining to the children, reviewing photographs, more conversations, and tears again, amidst profound silence.
Yet, in my eyes, there's still the miracle that illuminated Grandma Toma too. How much I began to trust God, to whom Grandma went. Because He, having created such beauty, welcomes her to Him. That brought me joy. Warmth. Even though I don't have any specific knowledge about death and life after death. I only have a feeling. I only have my perception, maybe like dreams, like waiting, like longing.
Knowing about the various complex interpretations of Orthodox beliefs regarding life after death, I still significantly simplify my views, to those desired events that I wish would happen to all the people who die, and specifically with Grandma Toma.
I Imagine
There she is, now free to traverse vast spaces. Here she is with us in the room, where we sit around the table. And she is with us here, smiling at our unawareness. She comforts us, saying, "Here I am with you, my family. All is well." I also imagine that she has met her deceased loved ones who were waiting for her and whom she was waiting to meet. Their reunion is also filled with joy. This gives hope that we too will see her again after some time and share the joy and love. Not to mention the meeting with God and His Light and Love. But that's a bit more difficult to imagine. Although it's clear that we are parted now, and it's sad, and tears well up. And Dasha cries too.
Questions
And so you ask yourself a question, you are an adult man, you've imagined something about how and what will be. You've gathered everything you'd like to believe, but should it really be so? Where are the guarantees? Questions pierce faith, slightly shaking it, scientific mathematical models arise from different angles.
Answers
And so, this miracle with the sun through the fog comes to the rescue. And I begin to reflect: Here I am, a human being, making up something humanly good and beautiful for the grandmother and all the deceased. Yet I couldn't even conceive, wish, or imagine something similar to the beauty I encountered this morning. To that indescribable joy, miracle, something astonishing.
This is my answer from God. My perception of life with God after death is a reference point. Something that could be called 0. But God has prepared for people a joy that is inexpressible. Which is incomprehensible, and of course, not understood by us here.
And so, there's goodness in my heart.
Because if not what people themselves wished for after death, then something much better.
