<p>Таямніца тумана вельмі кранае мяне. Калі я бачу туман раніцай, я не магу стрымаць сябе. Я хачу ісці скрозь яго.</p>
Kayaking is a wonderful thing. And the more wonderful it becomes, the quieter you go. Every paddle stroke on the water disrupts the beauty of silence and brings us closer to the end of kayaking. Similarly in life, we paddle to approach the end, rather than to live. On the other hand, when stuck in a dead-end, one needs to paddle hard to get out and move forward.
My dream: early morning kayaking in dense fog. Complete silence.
Last evening, Lyuba packed Ksyusha's backpack with full confidence that she would go to school tomorrow. She woke up almost first, insisted on getting dressed, put on her backpack, and went with Ksyusha to sit in the car, arrived at the school, greeted the headmistress. And then she went back to the car. They didn't take her in again. But they promised to admit her soon. Then, I bargained with Lyuba for a walk in the foggy forest in exchange for yogurt. After that, I also bargained to climb into the watchtower.
She was the first one who came and ascended to a place so dear to me. I embrace you, my beloved daughter, thank you for your trust and gentle nature.
I hadn't taken a walk in a long time. I had become stagnant. My spirit had grown moldy from the daily routine. And then the Sun, along with the Mist, awakened me to life again. This was a few weeks ago, the day before Christmas on December 25th. My car was all iced up, so I couldn't drive to the starting point of my usual path. I just trudged straight towards it. At some point, I no longer wanted to head to my usual path; I just wanted to walk towards the sun. And so, I walked, taking new routes, discovering new landscapes. God gifted me the sight of a miraculous display of beauty once again. Powerful rays of light passed through my body, warming my heart, giving it hope and joy. I was deeply moved. And I remember that moment with gratitude now.
Advice: Even when you're walking towards the sun, don't get stuck in the mud. You can use your brain and slightly bypass the danger and dirt.
Having let me by the path,
Allowing me to wander and play,
My dear one goes home,
To wait for me and greet me there.
And I walk with deep gratitude,
Wandering, searching for words,
So that the cold heart might change,
And from it, love would ignite.
May our gazes be filled with love,
May our days be satiated with affection,
And in the air, may joy greet us,
Under the guitar, both my voice and yours...
K.S.Petrashka / Szczytno / 1 Nov 2022
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.
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?
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Thank you, beloved Lord!