The soul is born for song and lightness. This world is full of Love. And I want to whirl in it, as in a dance.
But sometimes—who knows what—little hooks grab me and hold on. And I get stuck in the perplexity of the heart. Am I to blame? Did I do something wrong? Am I scared? Did I consider myself unworthy? Did I elevate myself too much in my own thoughts and judgments? Suddenly, something becomes scary. Or heavy. A stone of confusion presses on the heart, and a fog thickens around. Everything becomes unclear, fearful, as if something is wrong, as if I’m breaking some rule or law. Last night, one of those states overwhelmed me…
I delve into the depths of consciousness and search for moments that taught me to fear. I remember my mom, who scared me with her displeasure when I did something “wrong” (= not according to her). To a child, it seems like they’re being torn away from their mother—love, life. They’re punished—not with a corner. The scariest punishment for me was when they were angry with me and didn’t want to talk to me. And I was alone. An only child. No one was there beside me. And I felt like I was losing ground under my feet. I recall these episodes in my memory again. And I tell myself—little girl inside me, grown-up Natasha—that everything is actually fine. That there’s no such thing as “right” or “wrong.” There’s nothing to fear.
When that doesn’t work, I go to the “above” life. I look down from the heavens at myself and at this world, understanding that we’re all here temporarily, that it’s easy not to get attached and not to get consumed by the hustle of this earthly world… Usually, it becomes easy. Not yesterday. I couldn’t seem to detach from this languor and soar into the sky to look at myself—a little earthling. I tried to sink into this melancholy, intensify it to understand its cause. Tried to observe it… But alas. Then I laughed, and it didn’t bring much relief. I tried to breathe and count… But the melancholy didn’t dissipate. I started to thank this life and the Universe for everything I have… It became a little easier, but still, it didn’t bring me real relief.
And then I opened my heart—the wooden door of my soul—and let out Love—countless flocks of white doves. I directed the doves to everyone—my dad, stepmother, beloved, friends, former colleagues, future colleagues, everyone who loves me and everyone who doesn’t, everyone who needs this love and those who don’t know about it. And then a miracle happened. The melancholy disappeared completely. A light smile settled on my lips, and my heart became bright. All the doves flew away. And I fell into a deep sleep.
Sometimes I feel like people differ only in how they love. In this world, there are as many worlds as there are people in it. And just as many loves. You can meet someone and say, “I met Love A. An amazing phenomenon!
I love tenderly. You love passionately. He loves painfully. She loves joyfully. That person loves with their mind. Another loves with their body. Someone loves with their ego, and someone loves with pity. Someone loves with their spirit. Someone loves with their right hand.
We all argue so passionately about love, about what it is, how to define it, and how to reconcile these definitions. However, it’s not so easy to admit that there’s no Love. There’s simply the joy of life. And all people—walking embodiments of Love, living incarnations of the Absolute. Amazing Worlds. Kings and Gods. Just Hearts. In which—Life.
Hello, I’m Love Natasha. Come, let’s embrace with hearts.
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