прыняцце ⁽⁹⁾

P.S.: "The servants of the householder came and said to him, 'Master, did you not sow good seed in your field? Where then did the weeds come from?' He answered, 'An enemy has done this.' The servants said to him, 'Then do you want us to go and gather them?' But he replied, 'No; for in gathering the weeds you would uproot the wheat along with them. Let both of them grow together until the harvest; and at harvest time I will tell the reapers, "Collect the weeds first and bind them in bundles to be burned, but gather the wheat into my barn."  Matthew 13

When you pull or trample the weeds in a child's heart, the wheat of sincerity and truthfulness might also get trampled. I think the focus should be on nurturing the good wheat of a loving and sincere heart in my daughter. And the weeds will be taken care of when the time comes. Though, undoubtedly, everything is millions of times more complicated and doesn't fit such simple hypotheses.

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 ...

"The one for whom I walked to the cross, carries me in her arms."

Thank you, my love. Meeting you was a turning point in my life. That hidden part of a magical fairy tale, which usually starts from the end and is never voiced, touched me. I live in it. In the fairy tale with you. Where every moment is unpredictable. Where challenges alternate with rewards, solitude with unity, joy with sorrow, tension with relaxation. I feel a deep need for you, and I believe you feel the same need for me.

Let's dance, the dance of our life, and even death will not part us.

There have been times when in a certain community, you act oddly, inappropriately. You already feel out of place. They don't accept you as one of their own. At that moment, the mind seeks ways to prove that you belong, that you're even better than them. It's not about just saying or doing something to prove it; you'd want to devote your whole life to this cause. But is this a true desire? Not at all. It's all because of the hurt and non-acceptance of oneself. A person who forgets their deep-rooted Desire flounders in different directions, tormented by false cravings.

At least now, one can understand and let go of this.

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."

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.

Every person is imperfect, it can be said this is a criterion of humanity, the norm of being human. This is what allows us to communicate, love, empathize, understand, accept, and be accepted. Through all this imperfection, the best phenomena in the world shine through. An imperfect person: makes mistakes, hurts others, misses, breaks, causes harm, doesn't tolerate, shouts, can't love, doesn't understand...

All this is very human; there's no catastrophe in it. Every misunderstanding is covered by understanding, and every mistake is countered with a good deed.

I long suffered from a simple thought: "I have the right to exist only if I'm perfect."

This thought pushed me out of reality. Because in reality, I'm not perfect. But in my own invented (safe) world, everything revolves around one point - I'm awesome, I'm a superstar. It's nauseating to live with such a self-righteous attitude. The entire world, people around, things I do, they serve only one function for me: situations where I must be the HERO and people who must affirm it. The cycle is complete.

"Yahoo!!! I came up with a brilliant idea, now we friends will all pull together, work for free, and my family will survive on basics for a while. But then we'll make millions! - I'm awesome, I'm a superstar! After 3 months. Friends, I see all the flaws in this idea, we need to wrap it up. I managed to see the essence of things and overcome my past self. Let's disband and move on. We worked for free, and that's enough! - I'm awesome, I'm a superstar."

"Dear and beloved, are you struggling? Feeling bad? Don't know what's happening with you? - Don't worry, I'll sort everything out. After all, I'm awesome, I'm a superstar. And you're the wife of the world's best husband! Here's what I'll tell you. We have the best family in the world, you're the most beloved wife. We're the happiest people on the planet. Why are you so down? Why are you struggling? Perhaps something inside you broke, because objectively, everything's really great. But I'll help you fix everything inside you and see how everything is actually good and wonderful."

"Beloved, are you scared? - Don't be scared, everything's fine. Because I'm awesome, I'm a superstar."

"My dear, do you think I earn too little? - What are you talking about? Look at the homeless. Look at the women who are alone, without a husband. And you, you're practically a queen. I provide for the family, and you don't have to work. I'm awesome, I'm a superstar! You probably forgot that with me, you'll be happy even in a tent in the middle of a field."

"Kids, if you've done something wrong, go stand in the corner. This is my signature parenting technique. I brilliantly came up with it. I'm awesome, I'm a superstar."

"Our company, it's a company of friends. We never intended to make money, like all the other idiots. Only I, only I can give you all this. I'm awesome, I'm a superstar."

"Oh, I really messed up here. But look, see how fearlessly I admit my mistakes. I'm awesome."

"I'm the most sinful on earth, I'm not awesome, I'm not a superstar. Sounds cool. Look how critically I look at myself. What a sharp perspective on life. I'm awesome, I'm a superstar!"

"Do you want to advise me on something? Of course, I'm ready to listen to you and tell you how I've already thought it all out and did it. I'm not some fool, I understand and see everything in the world. And I also see that I see nothing and everything else that needs to be seen and known. I'm awesome..."

Almost teared up while writing this. I hug you all, my dear Dasha, children, parents, brother, friends, and work and project colleagues. You were the victims of the fear of imperfection, for which I dragged you into all these theatrical events of my life. Thank you for being there. Thank you for believing and loving me. Thank you for still loving me now.

My fear of being imperfect suffocated me. And through my nauseating righteousness, I suffocated you from different angles. With my infallibility, justification, and not admitting that you could struggle with me.

Now my choice is to be Human, a human who is endearingly imperfect and doesn't need that perfection, but rather needs love and a genuine orientation towards other people.

Now, I'm not awesome, I'm a human. I love myself.

My journey to find my profound Desire took an interesting route. I had to question all the lesser Desires of my life. And after these questions, it turned out that much of that wasn't really my desire. That's when I started thinking about "Sovest'". There are situations when it gnaws at you because in a choice situation you ponder how and what to do. Sometimes the choice is clear, other times not at all. And the dictates of "conscience" might not come from within us but from societal norms and upbringing. And these aren't things one should trust without critical reflection. Hence, acting according to one's conscience doesn't guarantee doing good. If in your community it was accepted to kill dissenters, and those who lacked the courage to do so were criticized and felt guilty. They asked for forgiveness for their soft-heartedness. Their conscience constantly hinted, "don't be lazy, go kill." On the other hand, another voice would advocate for life. Or perhaps steal from the rich and give to the poor. Sacrifice your entire life for close ones. Earn money for the family or give everything to strangers. And that "conscience" will torment itself and us along with it. There has to be something above it, more foundational and wiser.

However, the good thing that "conscience" does is to give an opportunity to learn more about oneself. What voices, what versions of me are in this dialogue? What do they want, and how have they formed within me?

Thank you to a.Vyacheslav Rubski for his reflections on this topic.

How deeply does an unhappy person irritate you? Why is it so painful and unbearable? Why do you want to fix everything as quickly as possible? Make them happy, acknowledge the beauty of the world, thank their fate, and be grateful to God.

Perhaps we fear that in this person the truth is reflected. Loneliness, the inevitability of death, and the overarching meaninglessness are mirrored. We ourselves avoid these states at all costs, suppressing them with fast foods of all kinds: goals, plans, food, movies, emotions, fights, and news. We fear confronting this abyss of profound questions for which we have no answers. The questions themselves weigh heavily and disassemble us. Because through the lens of these questions, our entire life is reevaluated; we see the underbelly of our very selves. We stand exposed and defenseless in the face of this life. And all the illusions we've constructed to feel in control just dissipate like mist.

I myself experienced a shift. Earlier, I would get disturbed when someone in my presence was sad or unhappy. It tore me apart.

Now, I see it as an opportunity. It's a moment when a person is on the verge of confronting a truth, someone seeking truth and rejecting the fast-food solutions offered from all sides. Let's not numb ourselves. Let's not run from these states.

It's terrifying, but through it, one can better understand oneself. One can find their true desire, from which we've drifted so far.

Love yourself when it's tough for you. Love others when it's tough for them.