Being a passionate one, I don’t merely wish for seductive occurrences in my life—I passionately desire them, infusing those desires with energy, love, joy, and hope. And indeed, many of them, saturated with those sparkling forces, find their way into realization. But apparently, the ones that don’t fall into the hands of the Little Black Man, who picks up anything he deems too important to me.
Even from a banal standpoint—no, not erudition, but an understanding of inner connections—it’s obvious: a desire saturated with joy and light, like golden helium, rises upward, dispersing in the glow of blessings and returning to me as a realized phenomenon. But if passions are too plentiful, they wither—before being imbued with the purity of thought, they wilt and spoil in the basement of the LBM (Little Black Man), bound by the chains of his own desires. It’s not surprising that many—often the majority—of our seemingly most sacred desires remain just that: desires and dreams.
After analyzing the situation and airing out the basement with its captives, the Little Black Man and I had a conversation. We agreed that the realization of these “mummies” is just as necessary for him as for me—because I merely create the images, while he provides the passion and power to saturate them. We both fully agreed that it was time to bring the “children of the dungeon” back to life—and for that, they first needed to be released.
I remembered a story a psychologist once told me. It was a beautiful summer day. The windows in his room were wide open, and pigeons gathered on the windowsill. My friend, utterly charmed by the scene, began throwing breadcrumbs to them. The lovely birds gladly accepted the treat.
Then his curious mind proposed an experiment. He began tossing breadcrumbs onto the floor. The urban birds, unaccustomed to human warmth, suddenly became trusting and flew down from the windowsill. It seemed they could trust even more. So he tested it—and closed the window.
The moment they sensed they were trapped, the birds forgot about trust. They darted around the room in panic, searching not for a way out—but for an escape. Of course, my friend opened the window again and let them go. But being a thoughtful man, he drew a wise conclusion from it. I think it’s obvious what it was.
So how are our desires any different from birds? We are all born of the same nature, and its laws apply everywhere.
We got to work immediately. At first, the Little Black Man feared the desires might fly away and never return—with nothing left behind: no desires, no manifestations. But I reminded him of the pigeons. And together, we cried out, “Freedom to Yuri Detochkin!” and went to release the desires.
We carefully carried each humiliated and insulted one up into the air, revived them, straightened their wings, performed artificial respiration—and released them into the sky.
The process was astonishingly smooth. It turned out that desires have a rare ability to sporulate. Once they sensed freedom, they began hatching from their cocoons and, like magical butterflies, set off on a free flight.
And guess what? They didn’t fly away. They’re mine, after all. Practically blood relatives—earned, coveted. At first, they burst forth in a wild whistle, but then, realizing they were no longer captives—released with joy and love—they returned with joy and love, surrounding me in a magical, multicolored round dance.
If only I could convey the thrill and joy that filled my heart! Having cleared and aired out the basement, I suddenly felt… free. Free like those shining moths fluttering around me! The world had transformed—in an instant. Reality became transparent, crystalline; snowy night-time Moscow sparkled with color and light. In extraordinary excitement, I walked home, smiling the whole way.
What incredible happiness it is—to let go. Only by letting go do we truly gain. Only by releasing a phenomenon from our grip can we allow in what we truly need—because something held captive is occupying space. And when space is occupied—however unrealized—what we truly need has nowhere to enter. Often, we desire what we don’t need—what isn’t even good for us.
Only by giving can we receive. Only by giving…
After releasing the first batch of revived creatures (I should check if anyone was left behind), a proverb came to mind—and it struck me as important.
“Kindness is not a piece thrown to a hungry dog.
Kindness is a piece shared with a dog when you are just as hungry as it is.”