What would you do if you were left on Earth alone and there were no other people besides you?
For me, this is terrifying. However, I would like to continue living, calling to God. To meet people after death.
A person in solitude is a person waiting to meet another person. And if this meeting with a person does not happen, then it will be the most desired in a person's life, and it does not matter whether there are millions of people around, or no one.
Meeting a person, life is filled with meaning, and the desire is directed towards deepening this meeting.
The wind blew us from the lake, the waves looked like the sea, children dug trenches, scooped holes, looked for little shells. I almost cried from this moment. Life blew us, we felt the air we breathe. Rules, laws, limitations at this moment gave way to life, gave way to understanding the value of each moment. All this is temporary. Everything can end at any moment. And even if you were to live a full 100 years, it would be too little. Too little for such moments, too little for life. The rustle of a little leaf in the wind moves the clock's hand. This hand brings us closer to the end. How I want to meet again. Again in eternity: And let there be arguments, pain, complaints, and shouting. I will learn to love even that.
On the horizon, certain issues are emerging. They make me somewhat shaky. Thoughts are running in circles. I’m assessing the risks. I don’t want them to come true. I feel a tension that does not subside. It seems like something hurts in the heart area. I understand that I am worrying. How to stop worrying? The matter is such that it is not worth strong anxiety, especially for trivialities.
And here I decided to express to myself what I am really afraid of. And start with the most important. I repeated: I am afraid of death, afraid of death, afraid of death, afraid of serious illnesses, afraid of serious illnesses, afraid of being guilty... and so on.
And you know, it let go. Because many fears reflect my helplessness in this life. Helplessness in small things, and that small flows into the most important - helplessness in the face of the creature of death. There is nowhere to escape from this helplessness and it is very difficult to accept it.
In the past few months, Grandma Raya has been seriously ill with oncology.
Today, I received a message from my father: "Raya has passed away."
Inside, there is silence. No words on the lips. The boundlessness of the power of death and its undeniable meaning. But everything is covered in mystery. Silence everywhere. I don't want any meaningless word to escape in response to this message. There are no such words. Only hope, faith, and love. Like vulnerable flower shoots amidst the asphalt of this life.
In the photograph, my children are with Grandma Raya and my grandfather Kolya several years ago.
Children run towards the road. I walk slowly behind them. I feel the danger, but not significant enough to run and stop them. Instead, I pray for God to protect them at that moment.
Now, at a spot above the lake, the children have moved far away from me. I prayed again. But after praying this time, I understood something. It's a prayer out of laziness. My conscience demands action, but I don't feel like running, stopping them, or shouting. So, internally, I pray. I console myself. I've reinterpreted this. I don't know if I'll manage to run and stop them the next time a similar situation arises. Probably not. But if I don't run, would I be able not to pray? Also, probably not.
So, what did I understand from all of this? Maybe I've slightly better understood what I do and why I do it.
By the way, this reminds me of my student days. I prayed because I didn't want to prepare for exams.
It seems I've identified three types of prayer requests:
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.
My beloved is ill today, Pain has come, but there's no fear. For like yesterday, she walks and drinks, Even though her back hurts a lot.
Because she doesn't want to think about the terrible, Because she doesn’t want to admit it… That waking up tomorrow morning, I won't be able to kiss her.
Everything will pass with joys and excitements, Life will be completely different. And I'll be tormented by unhappiness, Because of what wasn't there before.
My beloved is ill today, Pain has come, and that fear arose. I'll run, hug, and we'll embrace. We'll kiss with joy, wow!
- - - - - A few days later, Dasha got better. All is well!
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.
