The memory of childhood smells is the strongest; it’s a nest built deep beneath consciousness, in the blinding darkness, but just move it and it floods the senses in a flash: the earth greedily soaked in rain, just dry, vibrates strongly like musk and drives me somewhere deep back into the summer of a child, after absolute happiness and with the wing of freedom, which once again swells in me from this smell. Various smells of the earth, grass, wood, stones, forest floor – dry, uncool in the sun, damp and cool, moistened by the early morning dew – still the smells of the earth dominate, excite, grieve and caress, carry me – for some reason always back, not forward, to the origins of childhood, from which, as it were, the root of all happiness springs, that fluttering wing sprouts.
Was I really happy as a child?… Memory washes out contradictory things. The very existence of a child, a very small child, is like sitting in a pod of happiness: when we are born, we bring with us the charge of freedom, a gentle natural existence, only the world gradually steals it away. Often, the closest environment, which, although always wishing us well, does not feel it, does not want it, and has been stolen from it a long time ago, helps the child to “adapt”. Maturity is not only about growing out of egocentric states, gradually realizing and admitting through experience that you are not the most important, that others are just as important, and that those you love are even more important than yourself; maturity together with the inevitable loss of purity, the natural childlike purity. Is it possible to be mature and pure? I believe so. Only the purity of a mature person is not given as a gift, but acquired; it is the result of introspection and constant spiritual effort.
And now, am I happy now?… It seems to me that this is an important question. How often do I ask myself this?… It seems that everyone wants to be happy, but the happiness of an adult, like purity, is no longer a self-evident gift of nature – you have to strive for it, create it. For me, happiness is directly related to the meaning of everyday life, to the knowledge that what I do, even if it is simple household services for the family from morning to night – that they have meaning, that this is my place, that I do all this freely, sharing my being with those whom I have received as my relatives. Realizing the meaning brings a calm fullness of being in place, underpinned by peace, joy and gratitude to the One who created all. It seems to me that happiness – that mature happiness – is a necessary component of human life, and we must constantly pray to the Lord to teach us how to live in happiness in all circumstances, but especially in times of trial.
They are very beautiful hello sensual people, whom I do not meet much. More often – all kinds of unpleasant variations of sentimentality arising from injuries and complexes. It seems to me that true sensuality is not sentimental. Sentimentality comes from not knowing how to be naturally sentimental, when self-love dominates, not feeling. A feeling is one that manifests itself through a person something more for himself. It is a pure source without selfishness. Therefore to feel means to be according to the Lord’s will; and the world of feelings is infinite, inexhaustible, ultimately inexpressible, it is such a wonderful mystery of inner life.
But happiness doesn’t necessarily start with a feeling, rather it starts with a decision to live happily, which means, above all, meaningfully. Satisfaction, maybe even joy, comes as a confirmation that I am really living like this, that I have not deviated today. And tomorrow – it’s all over again… Choice, effort and prayer. Happiness as a feeling is sometimes delayed, there are days when it doesn’t come at all, or it plays through the heavy veils of fatigue… But falling face down on the pillow, I know that I didn’t waste this day, I lived it meaningfully, even if all day I just “danced at the pots” (There is one of Lars von Trier’s musical with Bjork: “Dancer in the Dark”.), I prepared lessons with my child until I couldn’t, and then we went for a long, long walk by the river.
I don’t want to give my precious little strength to anyone. The world constantly tempts us to squander ourselves, to waste ourselves for trifles, for insignificant nothings. Even such as endless virtual ratting in social networks. I want to get tired of meaningful activities – only this kind of tiredness is truly right and brings happiness. For me, it is motherhood above all else. And some other cute, simple activities. But these are hidden, hidden things, like secret tunnels carved under the snow: only you and a few loved ones know about them. Live, close relationships, in which the spirit of the Lord is filled with water and the truth of it takes your breath away… You will not take a picture of this and put it on any Facebook; and even such a thought does not arise – I am afraid to show the most real things, I instinctively protect them; safe because dear.
A person will never be completely complete while living on this earth (as a prayer friend recently reminded me). We are being created throughout our lives. All life we appear. We get lots and lots of time to become who we are potentially, step by step. From the outside, we are attacked by all kinds of disturbances that distract us from this activity. However, by fighting them, overcoming them, or, if necessary, by learning to accept something, adapt, bow down, we mature. So disruption only forces us to become more and more ourselves. This one occurrence the process, consciously or not, is the primary and most important human activity. In eternity we will become our own icons, with all the virtues so dearly bought, for which we now fight so hard every day with our own self-love, vices and fears. And when we are finished, no one will have the power to take this away from us. We will finally be ourselves. Forever.
Once, while making the bed for the night, I realized: once too I I will be finished. Completed for eternity. I felt so clearly that it was about to happen. The heart began to expand and crackle at the seams. If you want it, it will happen right now. I’ll figure out a way to finish you off in no time.
Why are you talking to me like that?… After all, you already know what I will answer… I’m not ready. But suddenly I realize my freedom, how much it gives me. From that freedom, my tiny heart simply explodes – it does not have time to expand, it is not used to as much space as You want to give it. I know that being almighty, you will never fail me. I remember your words during one difficult hour of struggle: I’m not taking anything from you. Only what you want to give me.
Really, how much freedom of decision I get from the Lord – He has never demanded anything from me. Only sometimes it approaches and is there with such a gentle expectation that it is impossible to resist. And in that light it becomes clear to me that His will is paramount, that if I understand it correctly, I simply cannot help but do it. In this way, He also gives an example of how I should be with my children. Do not force, do not force. Respectfully give space to their own searches, discoveries, mistakes. Silently, secretly agonizing over their mistakes and their pain… wait To love so gently, patiently, and faithfully that they simply cannot say no to the things I offer them as necessary for their own well-being. But it’s not easy, because you often lack patience and trust so much that you want to do everything for them yourself.
As we drove through the April fields, we opened the windows, and the smell of a very young spring wafting into the car brought me back to the happiness of my childhood. Pulled deeper into me by that happiness, I don’t feel like praying. It is a state in which all movements are performed as if in a blissful sleep, but the soul is simultaneously mysteriously alert, obedient, open; you are like a cultured pearl, asleep to the world, but alert to what is poured into you. I know how difficult, sometimes almost impossible it is to get out of the shell of self-love and really pray. If it were not for the prayers of the living who love us and intercede for us from eternity, many of us would not be able to do this. I know in that deep inner knowing that I am aided by my holy dead, accompanying and whispering from the abodes of Heaven. It was their prayerful concern that brought me out of the chaos in which I prayed until I was thirty years old and almost perished. That’s why, when I can, and sometimes quite spontaneously, I take all my people with me when I go to prayer: friends and non-friends. All that complex, ingrained map of various relationships. After all, I am only me together with all my people, after all, we are constantly formed through each other. When I pray, Mother Mary takes this formation in her hands.
Now we drive through the April fields, and inside I am suddenly back under the willow of my childhood; into a green, living darkness full of light. The thin tendrils of the willow quiver all the way down to the ground, and inside, a hollow of green light forms around the trunk. It is the place of our games and secret flirtations with our friends; the abode of little children’s secrets. I used to hide here and be completely happy; so childishly, absolutely, to the bottom, without even understanding it herself. My willow tree swaying in the summer sun – preserved only in a childhood photo and memory, has been cut down a long time ago. But memory is alive, very alive, and sometimes it lives its own autonomous life: it receives and sends wishes from the past. So I am small again, and I stand under the sun with willow hair down to the ground; the vines are shaking from the warm wind, ants are crawling on the trunk, everything smells, it smells of happiness and summer, and the little bunnies of the sun tickle my face so much that I even have to close my eyes. I’m not waiting for anything, I’m not in a hurry; this is my place. I am so hidden and calm and happy, and I wish that this hour would never end—here I seem to be ready for Heaven, that there is no death at all, and that loving voice speaks softly within me again:
I am here in you and always have been. I am the quiet joy of childhood that still feeds your weary heart… Come back here as often as you can, and I will give you My life, which alone is true. Only she is the food of your heart. Therefore, come every day, every free moment, get used to visiting Me as often as possible, and I will feed you as My little bird, because I am always here, always, always waiting for you…
The fields of April are endless, cut off before the great explosion of spring. Let’s stop on the side of the road, there’s so much space here!.. Far away in the fields, the cranes timidly study each other – you remember how we drove on another similar road almost seventeen years ago, it was autumn, and we were both crazy from meeting each other – it was our place – that moment filled with life – and it remains in us. You stop the car, I open the door and breathe. I feel like all the threads of being are suddenly coming together in me. I long to breathe into myself a small whole reality, the whole Universe with its secret currents… At this enlightened moment, I see our earth as a giant Ostia raised in the Universe, shining for other worlds and created beings. I can’t convey it to you, I just can’t speak. I am alone with this penetrating image, as if I were receiving Holy Communion right here in the fields…
But one more hour, and we’re on our way again. All the secret doors are already closed, I see and feel only what is visible. Let’s drive, let’s drive to our cozy cramped house, let’s heat the teapot, tame the jumping child – let everything be simple, smooth, let there be burnt-out light bulbs and eternal rabbit spiers on the carpet. It is very possible that this is exactly what it is our happiness.
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