Dear Diary,
When you don’t know how you’d rather spend a Saturday afternoon and enjoy the surrounding scenery – on horseback or on foot, a wonderful time arrives to simply sit down and write you an essay – who knows, maybe after it a decision will come too. And the topic for today’s essay is somewhat unusual. About relationships. Let this be our little secret, why I’ve suddenly taken an interest in the topic of relationships… :-)
In relationships, apparently, I’m still a poor expert, since all the ones I’ve had previously I carefully, responsibly and with indescribable attention to detail managed to mess up. Not that completely, since the majority of them grew into long and beautiful friendships, but they didn’t end well, which is a pity. However, the variety of mistakes made and the smart books that fell into my hands later than they should have allowed me to draw a mountain of conclusions and form a certain vision for how this sphere of life should unfold.
Probably the first thing that comes to mind when starting the topic of relationships and family is a video fragment I once saw. In it, a person poked a finger at the fact that the Ukrainian word for family, i.e. “simya” consists of two other Ukrainian words – “sim”, which translates as “seven” and “ya”, which translates as “I”. Well alright, perhaps it wasn’t entirely about the Ukrainian language the conversation went, but simply because of circumstances well-known to everyone, using that other one in public examples is not only poor taste but generally disgusting. However it may be, the beautiful Ukrainian language works perfectly here too, and in result we have that translating the word “family” from their language gives us the wonderful “seven I”. Oh, I threw up my arms upon hearing this – perhaps people in ancient times knew how to somehow incarnate into their family members, see the world through their eyes, hear it through their ears and think about it with the thoughts of their loved ones? Probably not. Probably it was simply meant that your thoughts and actions are directed not only toward your personal well-being, but also that of the remaining six family members, that each of them is as if your extension, and that all seven, including yourself, you see as an indivisible unit – that you neither elevate any of them above yourself, nor lower them below.
And that indivisibility here is probably the key factor of success, happiness and wholeness. When communicating with any person, the benefit and result of conversation and joint actions increases dozens of times over if at that moment in space you don’t find a certain mystical, and according to sacred books even imaginary or invented point. More precisely, two points. The point where you end in space. And the point where the other begins. And here probably any reader immersed in a state of peace would find it obvious – it’s impossible to poke a finger into space and say “I end right here!” Where is that here? The tip of your nose? Your elbow? Your little toe? And beyond it you no longer exist? Not your body, but specifically you? Completely? And you explore your feelings. Thoroughly explore. Most likely, after tiring for a good fifteen minutes, you’ll helplessly establish the fact that you don’t end anywhere at all. And here a new dilemma blocks the way – so if you don’t tangibly end anywhere, then where, for heaven’s sake, does the other tangibly begin?
I’ve noticed hundreds of times that if tension and difficulty arise between me and my interlocutor, client, colleague or other person, when I begin modeling situations in the series – if I do this to them, then they’ll do this to me, so better I do that to them, and then they, in theory, will do this-and-that to me – the fundamental cause is always one and the same: I found those two points in space. The point where I end and the point where the other begins. And those two points naturally and automatically turn into a wall. A wall that needs to be climbed over, broken through or otherwise overcome. A wall that between us becomes a wedge, a separation and the source of all possible problems. And nature is designed so that wherever separation appears, processes of decay and certain death immediately begin. Just cut in half an apple that’s been lying perfectly well on the windowsill for a week and within half an hour you’ll be convinced of this – the separated halves will begin browning, losing shape and otherwise diminishing the desire to enjoy them.
It’s enough to shake off the haze, recall that somewhere there in esoteric planes we and our situation’s partner are already part of something one, great and indivisible, and there is no need whatsoever to leap over it or otherwise not allow experiencing the taste of victory in one of those everyday adult games, and lightness, simplicity, wisdom and all-round sympathy instantly return to communication.
So to summarize this thought that didn’t fit on a single A4 page, I could say this: wonderful relationships are when two people are not slices of a freshly cut apple rolling around on a windowsill. And a wonderful family – that’s when seven slices form one big, healthy and beautiful apple :-)
Meaningful rest! Especially for those spending time under a plum tree… :-)
