Always. Never. Part II
Somehow, I started to love you. I started to genuine love
you because everything seemed so easy with you, and without knowing it, you
gave me energy, you gave me hope and strength, that I could do anything and
that I could solve all my problems. You gave me the courage to resign from my
former employee who has not paid me for a year and a half, you gave me the
opportunity to choose you and to give up the people I always thought were
"family". You silently revived in me the feeling that I can, that I
exist, that I deserve, that I no longer have any reasons to feel insecure,
weak, ugly or fat or mean or unworthy of judgment and ridicule for everything I
have done wrong in my life. And it felt so good. It was good when we had 1
dollar on the credit card to get 2 juices from Lidl. It was good, it felt good,
and my soul, although overwhelmed, with worries and stress that I can't
describe ... it felt safe, it felt at home with your soul.
I met your friends, I met your family, I met your baby ... I
still remember what emotions were trying me when we first met. I was so scared
that she wouldn't like me, I had so many thoughts, oh God. But her innocence
struck me then like a thunder. She hit me so hard when I saw her inside me, I
saw myself, as she had the same age I had when my parents got the divorce. And
probably, in time, I just wanted to help, to learn, to be good, to be
responsible, to be the best. Because I had no one to teach me ... nothing and
no one, not even when suffering or the fact that you can't unite broken links
through logic or reason, but only through love.
Nobody taught me what love is. But, I have learned that God
is love, and the more love there is in the soul, the stronger I do not
"submit" to the material world, succeeding in transforming evil into
good after a while. Outside you can get upset, angry, have despair, that's not
scary. The important thing is that the soul, inside, emanates love. It's an art
you don't learn all of a sudden, but I'm starting to learn at least
ideologically what that entails. Maybe my soul is too deep, too loaded, and
maybe sometimes I don't know how to handle the storms inside it. But I don't
know if that makes me a bad person.
In time and seeing my behavior due
to the incapacity of managing my struggles, you started rioting. You were
bothered by everything I said to your kid, not understanding that kindness,
without some discipline, does not help, but destroys. Kindness becomes something
taken for free, without learning the lesson of gratitude, compassion, love and
help. And you confused my "involvement" with lack of love. Which hurt
a lot, because no matter how much I wish it was the other way around, not many
people manage to genuine love your child so much. And not because she is a kid
and deserves to be loved, but because there is no more kindness or love among
us, maybe only self-love to others, hence the inability to offer something so
precious.
I got over it, you know? As I
said above, I overcame the suffering, fast-forward, giving way to hope, the bad
one this time, the one I was talking about in the beginning. Then your father died.
And no matter how hard you try, you can't fully understand me, because I don't
act like other people, I'm not like other people and I don't blame you, it's
not like anyone ever understood me, except God . Although ... I blame you. You
have given me the security that God has given me. Did I have high expectations
of you that you would understand me when others did not want to or could not?
Or did I make an idol of you, to whom I worshiped?
I've been through this suffering,
you know? But it's not fast-forward anymore, it's slow-motion. It's a torture
filmed from the outside in slow motion, to give me time, to give me the time to
bring out the other sufferings and show me that I can heal them. That I am
strong, that I can, that I am able to cross mountains without breathing, to
accept myself as I am at times or when others do not.
Yesterday ... I realized that
something had broken in you and that your love ... hadn't existed for a while
... that it had been destroyed and dissipated by what I had done, by lies, by
pride, words thrown with hatred, by pain ... and despite the impression you
left me the last time you told me that you love me, that love no longer exists.
And that's fine. Love must heal and if it didn't work out for you, it wasn't
enough ... or I wasn't. .....
A few years ago, a priest told me
that during The Easter fasting, I should make a habit of analyzing everything I
had done and asking for forgiveness from all the people I had wronged and those
who tt seems to me that they have wronged me, that in one form or another, my
attitude has made them act to hurt me, that is, in other words, I also
"deserved it." So, I wrote all these lines to you, so that in one way
or another, to apologize. Please forgive me for any wrongdoing, any unjust
action or behavior, any misjudgment of mine, any unfulfilled expectations.
Please forgive me for whatever you wanted me to do and didn't do or for
whatever you wanted me to say and didn't say. I beg you to learn all the
lessons you are allowed to learn from the relationship we had ... and to be
truly happy. I wish you sincerely to discover the true happiness, the one that
we were not able to offer ourselves until the end, until the end of our life
together.
😓🖤
Always. Never. Part I
I've always loved writing. I started with my diary at the
age of 12, where I kept all my thoughts. Thoughts about how I hate my dad for
being drunk, thoughts about my uncle, about school and how
only my teachers witnessed my abilities, about quarrels with my sister, about
my mother's hatred and how she treated me, about the fear of leaving me behind, to the first feelings aroused when I liked a boy and my shyness to say
something. I didn’t really have anyone to talk to and that's how I chose to
write. It was my way of talking, with me ... with God. Then, after an
experience in French class, when, satiated for everyone to copy the homework
from me, one day, I didn't do it. Oh, but I did it, in my head. Everyone's
shock that I didn't do my homework was amazing. As no one had the homework
done, of course, I, the "A" student, had to had it. But I confessed
that I don't have it in my notebook, but I have it in my head. I took A+
obviously. Since then, I have learned to "write" in my head, to fill
my mind with tens of pages, in thousands and millions of volumes, theoretically, beautifully arranged on shelves, on years, days, clear and specific
sections. However, the reality is that it's all fake. Basically, all the pages
are torn from the books and each one flies where it can. It's chaos, but it's
my chaos, which I can still manage, in an attempt to make it clean, to make
everything perfect. But nothing is perfect. Or it is, as it is ... you just
have to have eyes to see beyond...
I don't know if anything good has
ever happened to me in my life, in worldly terms. A childhood that I try to
erase from memory, trying to erase all bad memories and everything that hurt me
or was misunderstood by my mind, which always sought answers, feeling
different, unjust, abused, humiliated, mocked, but never without hope. Very
late I realized that my misunderstood hope was making me go through every
situation in which I was suffering with the speed of light, telling me that it
was passing, that it would be fine, that something good was waiting for me. However,
the subconscious does not work that way. It creates patterns and programs,
which are so deeply rooted that you are unaware of them, which is why it is
called `subconscious`. And, you get like me, after years of suffering fast
forward, over and over again, to gather all those sufferings, which come at
some point to the surface, that they no longer take place in thousands of
pages.
My hope, that good one, made me
want to choose that every relationship I had, it would be the one forever. I had
read that women unconsciously choose their men based on their relationship with
their father. That is why, I always avoided people who liked to drink, to be
able to start a family, to have a beautiful one and not projected on the
patterns from my childhood that I try to forget. It worked somehow and I fell
in love with people who weren't like my father. However, I never thought that
there were also patterns from my mother. Oh, I certainly never anticipated
that, I still manage to surprise myself.
If every relationship I started
was "because I fell in love" and that's how it started, it was
totally different with you. Everything was different with you, from the first
day or night. I didn't fall in love with you all right away and I said it was
the perfect time to not rush, to take things in stride, to give myself time,
even if the truth was that I didn't want a relationship, considering that I had
so many problems, so much debts, so much suffering on fast-forward. You made me
feel safe from the first moment I saw you and that was enough for me. Because
even in the longest relationship I've had, I didn't have that feeling, the one
I had with you, a precious one and one that I haven't met before. To feel
protected and safe. Oh, and I didn't understand why that happened, because in
the next few days after I met you, I realized. It was that feeling that nothing
could hurt me, a feeling that only my prayer of complaint in my discussions
with God brought it to me. And you came ... and I felt it with you. I know I've
talked about the fact that I didn't fall in love with you right away, but I
don't think I ever told you why I kept going, when I couldn't.
TIMES
WHEN A STRANGE SITUATION
REVEALS
THE TRUE WORK OF GOD
Albert
Einstein once said “Information is not knowledge. The only source of knowledge
is experience”.
We
all experienced a strange, a curious or a bizarre personal situation at least
one time in a life. Situations like having premonitions, dreams about another
world, the feelings that we are not alone in the room, and so on. And yet we
did not have a material response and we decided to bury the situation deep
inside us. Why? Of fear. Because we are afraid. We are afraid of what people
will think of us, we are afraid of what would happen if we would just be …
ourselves. So, instead of admitting that all the subtle information we receive,
and all the „strange” things that happen to us, are for a reason, we deny them
with a nonchalance worthy of Napoleon himself.
In
Orthodox Church, the main difference that separates this Christian religion
from other religions is that Tradition occupies an important play. For example,
orthodox people will not eat or drink anything before drinking the Holy water.
On the other hand, they will not eat or drink anything that has red color or
cabbage especially, during the day on which they celebrate cutting the head of
the Saint John the Baptist, because red is the color of blood, and the cabbage
was the veil on which the head of the Saint John was laid.
Combining
the tradition of Orthodox and the experience of an orthodox monk, we will learn
that maybe we should pay attention to the little or great bizarre things life shows
us at some point.
So
… God works in mysterious ways. This was the thought that a monk from an
Orthodox monastery had for a long time while passing the deserted roads and the
wild forests on his way to his new monastery. As the abbot of the monastery
passed away, he had to move to another one, located very far away. After tree
days, while trying to understand how God works and why the abbot died, he met
another monk, who was going at the same monastery. He thought it would be nice
to have a companion, to travel, to talk, to change opinions about questions
that he had about how God works and to pray with along the way. But this monk did
not meet his expectations, as he had a rule: under no circumstances any of them
will ask questions, no matter what would happen, until they arrive at
destination. And so, they made a vow.
So,
they continued together the journey to the monastery. It was very hard for the
monk to abstain from asking questions, but he decided to pray all the road and
to be thankful just for having someone to travel with. After a while, they
stopped to a poor family, who received them to eat some bread. The man and the
wife excused themselves for not having anything else to eat, but in the last
five years, a great sorrow occurred and they either could not find a place to
work, or all of the sudden, they were kicked out without any reason. After they
had finished eating and while thanking and saying goodbye, the monk saw the
companion monk taking the single valuable thing that the poor family had, a
goblet. Without anyone noticing, they left. On their way, the companion monk
pulled the goblet from his pouch and threw it in a river. It was very hard for
the monk to understand why he did that, knowing that the poor family could had
sell the goblet and maybe buy some food, but he remembered that he would not
ask any questions.
After
another day, they arrived in a village and were invited for dinner and rest for
the night. At dinner, the family talked about their life, about how wealthy
they are, but sad in the same time, because the woman could not have children
and they have no one to enjoy with all the wealth or to give the legacy.
Instead, they had a very beautiful dog, who was like their child or more. So,
the rest of the night they only talked about how proud are with their dog and
how smart and beautiful he was. They left early in the morning, while the
family was sleeping, but before leaving, the monk saw the companion monk
killing the dog. He was outraged and starting to think what was going on with
this monk.
But
while continuing their way to the monastery, on the way to the next village,
they saw an old church, with broken glasses, almost a ruin. And while passing
through, the companion monk took some rocks, spat on them and threw them into
the church, while cursing. The monk was shocked; he asked himself what kind of
monk, of man of God, would do such a thing.
And
just about when he was thinking to excuse himself, and continue the road alone,
they entered the village, where they saw a drinking house, where people were
drunk, fighting and throwing bottles to each other. And the next minute, he saw
the companion monk taking bows in front of the bar, saying Our Father and
making the sign of the Cross. They exited the village and straightened to the
next one, and the last one before arriving at the destination.
Thinking
that, the monk was relieved that the journey was about to end, but he had so
many questions about what happened and what a cruel companion he had. So, he
started to pray again. However, they arrived after a time in the last village,
where they stopped because they saw two children crying in the front of a poor crashed
house, because it was so old. After talking to the children, they found out
that they became recently orphans, because their parents died in an accident,
and the house was the only thing they had left, but almost destroyed. Nevertheless,
they wanted to restore what it remained, so they could have a place to sleep at
night. The monk offered them the last slice of bread that he had, and before
saying goodbye, we said he would pray for them. However, the companion monk
approached and started to break the rest of the house and burnt it, and they
all witness how the house collapsed and there was nothing left for the children.
And
they left … few hours passed by and they arrived at the destination. The monk
exploded. He started to cry and asked why he did all that awful things. And
why? The companion monk answered that he received information from God and all
he did was for a greater good. For example, when he stole the goblet, nobody
knew that inside it, it was written in ancient Latin that anyone who would
possess the goblet, but the Royal family, it is cursed to live in poverty. So,
after the goblet was thrown in the river, the family will get rich. Secondly,
the rich family who could not have children was attached of the dog so much, as
they made him their god. Killing the dog was good, because they were blind, and
now God will give them a child. Still, the monk had questions. Why cursing the
old church and worship a bar? Moreover, the companion monk answered that in the
old church were demons, and by throwing with rocks at them, they went out. While
worshiping at the bar was a good thing also, because among the people in the
bar, there was the mayor of the village, who was talking to someone about
rebuilding and restoring the old church, and asking for God’s help. Moreover,
in the last village, he had to destroy the last part of the house, because
underneath that part, their parents buried a treasure, and they would have
never found out, because they were going to restore the house with the
remaining pieces and live just like that, in poverty all their life. Therefore,
finally the monk understood how God works.
If
the source of knowledge is not information, but experience, this leads to a
very interesting conclusion. What are we going to do, with the information that
is given to us? We are going to transform it to experience, thinking that there
is more to this, than meets the eye? Or are we going to ignore the „invisible”,
the „strange”, the „paranormal”, just to feel at ease with this life? So, when
was the last time you felt something strange?
Recenzie „Scenariul 4. Cal invizibil – 5 secunde” de Simona Vitizov de Adriana Ionescu | iul. 12, 2022 | Beletristică , Dragoste , ...
