By Igor Akimov, Viktor Klimenko
It all began with the publication of excerpts from the book in Student Meridian — “About the Boy Who Could Fly, or The Path to Freedom” — illustrated with strange pictures. Apparently, the editors thought the book was strange, and therefore the illustrations ought to match.
The book itself is not simple. It tells not only — and not even primarily — about the nature of talent itself, but about spiritual organization, which, after all, is talent.
For me, this work once became something like a spiritual scripture, a powerful stimulus for the creative work of my consciousness. It is not impossible that my spiritual development began with this book — though, admittedly, I read no more than a twentieth of it. I simply couldn’t find more of the magazine issues, and the book itself was practically impossible to obtain.
But time passed — and the book found me on its own.
I will not waste words telling again and again how many thoughts and realizations it gave me.
Instead, I will simply share a small excerpt here, followed by a link where you can download the entire book for deeper study.
I promise it will be a great pleasure, but I must warn you: for those unprepared, the book might hold no interest at all.
There is a parable:
About a boy who could fly.
He simply flew — and for him it was as natural as it is for us to walk, eat, and breathe.
He flew without noticing his own uniqueness, though he sometimes wondered why others did not do the same.
But the people around him could not leave his flying in peace.
If only he had been somehow different from them — fantastically strong, suspiciously light, equipped with wings, or at least a motor with a propeller like Karlsson-on-the-Roof — the parable would have mentioned it.
But no — there was nothing of the sort.
In every way, the boy was ordinary, just like everyone else.
Then one clever man figured it out:
If the boy can fly, and he is just like us, that must mean we should be able to fly too!
Ah, logic, logic — that homemade wisdom!
You learn that two plus two equals four — and think you no longer need to think.
The idea appealed to everyone.
So they called in the scientists and gave them a task: Find out how the boy flies.
The scientists needed no convincing.
They prepared thoroughly for the study of the phenomenon:
They created hypotheses, developed methods, and manufactured the most sensitive instruments.
But before the boy could take off, they stopped him:
“Wait. First, tell us how you do it.”
Frankly speaking, the boy wasn’t ready for this.
He had never thought about how he flew.
Now he had to turn inward, to dissect his wholeness — as much as his strength allowed.
And generally speaking, he understood what was happening inside him.
He tried to find words to describe his sensations.
The scientists were satisfied.
Having grasped the essence of the processes, they asked the boy to demonstrate, so they could measure the flight and derive formulas usable by all.
But the boy did not fly.
He could not.
Download the book here.