Ксюша ⁽⁶⁾

Ksusha: I feel so upset; I can't bear the fact that Luba now has a dress. I'm very sad that Luba has a new dress. Because Luba has such a beautiful dress. Because they didn't send one to me. I don't have such a beautiful dress. I feel really bad. Because I don't have a dress or any other clothing as beautiful as Luba's. It hurts that Luba has it, and I don't.

Pa: Have you thought about why it hurts?

Ksusha: I don’t really know, but feelings are so overwhelming, how can you respond to these feelings or what do they mean? Why do they work like this? You never know; life always has mysteries.

Pa: Would you like to solve this mystery?

Ksusha: I think so.

Pa: Like a detective story?

Ksusha: Yes, but much harder. You'll never solve it.

Pa: What if we try to solve it together?

Ksusha: I don’t know what will happen if we solve it.

Pa: We can buy a cake if we solve it!

Ksusha: In honor of what?

Pa: That we are great detectives.

Ksusha: I think they did it (referring to the characters in Ksusha's mind from the movie "Inside Out") to make me feel so sad, so hurt that she has a dress.

Pa: Why would they want to do that? What's the benefit?

Ksusha: If it's any of their hurt or sadness, they don't understand the benefit, they just think they are sad because of it.

I solved the riddle, that it's not beneficial to me at all. They're just sad and hurt, and they take turns.

He wanted to feel sad. He likes feeling sad, so he decided to be sad.

Pa: How about joy? How does joy feel?

Ksusha: There are times when even joy is sad. When it was gentle and scary. And joy could react to that. So, have we solved it?

Pa: I don’t know, but I think there aren’t characters in our head.

Ksusha: Oh, how come! There must be something that should guide us! We can't guide ourselves! If they weren’t there, how could we express sadness, or that we're happy, angry, or gentle?

Pa: Well, I think it’s us, it's really us feeling everything. What else could you feel in this situation?

Ksusha: I wanted to be happy. I wanted joy to come, but instead, sadness came. I couldn't embrace it.

Pa: Why do you think joy should have come?

Ksusha: Luba, my sister, I love her, I want to be happy for her, but I can't.

... they decided to continue another day, the riddle remains unsolved ...

A rocking chair. Street. Clouds. Porch.
Ksenia comes out from around the corner.
A sad pace. Eyes looking down.

• Ksusha, what happened?
• I accidentally hit Luba with a jump rope. She came under it herself... Come here, my dear. Sit on my lap. Don’t be sad; things happen. Ksenia lies in my arms.

- - - 

It seems to me that I slightly understand her. Those thoughts circling her mind, emerging here and there. "How bad I am, why am I so bad, but Luba is good, and I am wicked..." How heavy these thoughts weigh on her, how they engulf her. There are actions after which this burden rolls over her like an avalanche. She rightly feels like a victim (not a victim of our judgment), but a victim of her own thoughts. She feels terrible, sad, and self-destructive. It escalates so quickly, and from my side, I might inadvertently add fuel to her fire.

In a nutshell, the situation looks like this: Luba came under it, Ksusha couldn't control herself and hit Luba. Luba cries, she's in pain and needs consolation. But Ksusha shifts her focus to her own tragedy and forgets about Luba. Or she becomes even more angry at Luba because through her, she faced her unbearable self again. And I say/yell: Look what you've done! Go and apologize to Luba!

- - - 

And there she lies in my arms, and I comfort her. "You are a good daughter. Don't be sad. All of us sometimes do bad things. It happens. You are good. You are not the same as your actions. You don't need to meet all our expectations. You can be yourself, and we will love you regardless of whether you do as we want or not. Listen to your heart, Ksusha, there you will hear the answers."

These words, about the answers that can be heard in the heart, resonated with her. Throughout the day, she approached me three times, whispering: "How can I hear answers in my heart? Dad, teach me."

I postponed this conversation as long as I could. On her third request, I set a time. "Today, after our evening reading, we will talk about it before bedtime."

Of course, all day I pondered what to discuss with Ksusha before sleep. I don't have any method that even I could use to hear answers in my heart.

The time for our conversation arrived.

"You know, Ksusha, it's best to first ask questions in the heart. Questions that you really want answers to. Questions that move you. For example: Who are you? How are you? What matters to you? Why do you want this or that? Why sometimes don't you want something? ..."

"Dad, can I ask why I sometimes have thoughts that you don't love me?" "That's because your dad once thought he was very smart. All foolish people think so. And so your dad (me) thought, if Ksusha does something wrong, she should be put in the corner. So she would understand right from wrong. That's how I kept sending you to those corners. Instead of accepting you, hugging you when you made mistakes. I pushed you away. And you went to the corner. I thought I did it out of love. For you. But please forgive me, dear Ksusha, I was very foolish. I love you, Ksusha." "Dad, I don't remember any of that, what you're talking about." "Yes, Ksusha, you don't remember it, but you have thoughts. That I don't love you when you do something wrong because there were such events before. Forgive me, Ksusha, I didn't want to hurt you. But I was very foolish. I didn't want to love, I wanted to discipline. I love you." "Okay, dad." "Ksusha, do you feel better after our talk?" "Yes, dad, thank you. I love you. I know you love me. But why were you so foolish?" "I didn't listen to my heart, Ksusha. I didn't understand anything." "Well, okay, dad." "Ksusha, can I write about our conversation? And tomorrow, I'll read to you what I've written." "Yes, I agree." "Good night, beloved Ksusha." "Good night, dad."

You know, some of the interesting and very important actions in my life had the "wrong" motivation. I went to disabled children, not for help, but to go to the camp. And then it dragged on. Well, there was something else...

But today, Dasha went to Warsaw for a few days. And in order to somehow cover up the resulting vacuum, I decided to do something with my children. And you know, there is something in it. I am sharing a short video of how our day went.

Maybe it will inspire someone to become a father.

... reading now ...

The Little Prince: "Only children know what they are looking for. They sacrifice all their time for a rag doll, and it becomes so precious to them, and when it's taken away, they cry..."

Dad: Ksyusha, do you know what you're looking for?
Ksusha: What am I looking for? My main desire is to find and verify whether the living water exists. That's my primary goal.
Dad: And why do you need the living water?
Ksusha: To give it to people for free. Because it belongs to all people and animals on the planet.
Dad: And why do people need this water?
Ksusha: Because the living water heals various wounds and diseases that nothing else can help with. And those who live in the mountains or are hopeless begin to feel joyous and hopeful.
Dad: Do you personally need such water?
Ksyusha: Only for one reason, if I get old or fall sick.
Dad: Do you want to use it to avoid dying?
Ksyusha: To avoid dying and so that other people don't die from diseases. But it's okay to die of old age. If you're already 100 years old, then it's okay to pass away. You should live when you have time to live, and not last forever or for a very long time.

P.S. By the way, she got the idea about the living water from the book “The Seven Stones” by Alexey Shein.

... 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?