страх ⁽⁹⁾

A dirt road. A handrail. The creak of a wooden platform. A key in a rusty lock. The eerie clatter of chains. The oars are released. I was warned that if the locals call the police, just reassure them that everything is fine and that there's an arrangement. However, it feels like Dasha and I are stealing a boat in the middle of the night. Finally, we've unwound the chains. As we climbed in, we realized there's no guarantee the boat won't capsize. The phone flashlight does illuminate somewhat, but mostly blinds us. We decided not to go far. Goosebumps cover our skin. The sound of oars hitting the water. Occasional bubbles. From time to time, a fish jumps out. In the nearby forests, dogs bark. It was supposed to be romantic. Stars in the sky without any light pollution. The stars are beautiful. We even found a candle and lit it. The other one didn’t light. A thermos with hot tea. Small cups. Tasty candies. But through all of this, our vulnerability. Our fears laid bare before each other, that's where the beauty lies. We sat and shared our anxieties and fears, which was comforting. Every now and then, I'd get so engrossed in our conversation. The backdrop against which I saw Dasha (the lake surface, shadows from the dark forest, the dark forest itself, some distant lights, stars) resembled a Zoom or Google Meet background. An unreal backdrop. Another challenge was finding the dock. We'd been carried away by the unnoticed current. Reeds brush against the oars. The boat scrapes against another boat. All these sounds, like whispered human voices. We immediately thought there were people nearby. But it was only the sounds of the night. Such a little journey into the mysteries of our soul.

I'm afraid of many things. But I'd like to live my life facing those fears, with depth, meaning, and true love. True love conquers fear.

Thank you, my beloved, for agreeing to such an adventure.

Kierkegaard took the title from the words of Apostle Paul:

"Therefore, my dear friends, as you have always obeyed—not only in my presence, but now much more in my absence—continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you to will and to act in order to fulfill his good purpose." (Philippians 2:12‐13).

From the very first pages, one is captivated by scenarios of how the journey of Abraham and Isaac to Mount Moriah might have unfolded, where Abraham was supposed to kill his son.

However, what follows are rather intricate and distressing topics for my understanding.

The Leap of Faith (absurdity of faith) - a paradox that eternally connects God and Man, deeply internally and subjectively.

Behind this relationship lies intense tension and trust (as seen in Abraham), and these relations stand above any Ethics or Morality. Only a person becomes the measure for themselves, and no outsider can advise them. For Abraham is either the prophet of faith (in this paradox) or a crazed murderer.

The responsibility of such relationships lies solely on the individual; they cannot pass it for group verification. And one cannot unite on this path with another human.

On a level that I could grasp: The risk that a person might err in their faith does not justify the community's standard solution in verifying these individual relationships with God.

It's better to have that freedom, that threat, and that monumental responsibility which will remain with the individual in these relationships.

The mystery of God - appears much more truthful than the literal dissection of God.

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.

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?"

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:

1. I pray because I don't want to act.
2. I pray and act.
3. I pray when it's impossible to act.

How is it for you?

Friends, do you ever feel anxious? For living well in harmony, peace, tranquility, and for things generally going your way? For having luck? For good relationships within the family? For successful projects? For a good job? For simply being alive? I do feel it, and the more things go my way, the more I feel this anxiety. I haven’t fully understood yet where it all comes from.

One of my hypotheses is that some law of fairness is being violated. Why do some of my acquaintances face family issues while things are good for me? Or someone faces tragedy, or has to work too hard, or gets unlucky in small or significant ways. And then you think, "Lord, this seems unjust." It's as if I should suffer a bit to balance things out. I sometimes feel as if I’m getting all these life's blessings on credit. And it triggers me.

On the other hand, I'm skeptical about this feeling and look for deceit. I fear that by receiving ordinary human happiness, I might be losing out on something more crucial. But that slips away from me, just at the level of intuition.

And thirdly, regarding fairness again. It feels like my happiness might be causing suffering to someone else who is less fortunate. Sometimes, I even want to hide my joy. Like when you talk about your relationships with your kids to someone who doesn't have any, or about your wife to someone who’s single or recently divorced. Or about how nice it is to stroll through the woods and to quit IT, to someone who is desperate to get into IT for a good salary.

Even writing this text, I did it with a great sense of guilt, anticipating the pain it might cause to some readers. Although, being honest with myself, I fear the judgment of these people. I know you, dear and wonderful people, won’t judge me. But those little voices in my head still haven’t entirely lost their power and fuel my self-criticism.

"Constantine, whoever you are, you have the right to be!" This beautiful thought inspires me. Sending hugs to everyone! Goodnight!

Storm, storm rages! It rolls from side to side within me.

I always craved calmness before. Thoughts that instilled fear or simply anxiety were unwanted companions. And I did whatever I could to calm down. Mostly, it helped to go and easily sleep at any time of the day or night.

But now it's different. I feel the anxiety and I want to utilize it. I want to see what it brings with it. What it's about. There's no pleasure in this, but there's energy, and I need to use that energy. In all this anxiety, a certain existential meaning has emerged. Value. A moment I don't want to just miss or lose. Since I started savoring such states, the usual quiet life inside me seems bland. Like a dull routine. Though everything is good in moderation.

And right now, I'm reading to Ksyusha about the adventures of Tom Sawyer. Today was the chapter about the murder of the doctor in the graveyard at night. I wonder if I was hasty to read this to a seven-year-old girl. I'll go and pray with her for the night.

And to you, goodnight friends.

Here it is, the twist. The opposition. The thought that challenges the Desire to become a psychotherapist.

All because I read posts from some Russian school of psychologists. Everything seems fine, but there's even more about where to find clients, how to do marketing, some typical answers and schemes. In my world, all of this was imagined differently. More sacred, delicate, significant.

I anticipate how complicated this path can be. How diverse people are. How powerless a therapist and even the individual themselves can be. And probably, one will need to come to terms with this powerlessness. Clinging to the remnants of meaningful gems in every person.

So Ksusha calls you at night, Kostya, to guide her through the dark corridor to the bathroom. Lyuba has climbed onto the bunk bed, her legs dangling near the steps, but she's so scared she calls for you. Laughing and yielding to their fears, you go and help. You strive to teach them to climb up and down, so that they won't be afraid next time... And you, little Kostya, you're still young, you're worried, and in your life, there's fear. And help comes to you, and it's expected of you not to be afraid of those little things. So, let's be small, helping each other, protecting one another.

My boundaries have passed through wonderful places, and my inheritance is pleasant to me. Psalm 16:6