ABU. To Be Who You Are. A. Manvayler
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Название: ABU. To Be Who You Are
Автор: A. Manvayler
Издательство: Издательские решения
Жанр: Современная русская литература
isbn: 9785449634016
isbn:
3 – MY GOA
Everything that has to happen will happen. At the right time. At the right place. With the right people. Everything that you relay to the world inevitably comes back. Louise Hay.
Checked by me personally.
The ultimate purpose of progressive human development is the complete mastery of the mind over the material world. Intuition is something which transcends knowledge. N. Tesla
I have never been so drawn to anything else. Nowhere for me was there as much interesting and unknown as in India. Every day is full of surprises and impressions. And this is without going to theater or cinema, there is no need to artificially seek emotions. Everything is there and appears continuously and on time. You should make the choice only if you can really fulfill it or just let it go, but what is beyond the power of thought or imagination – should be accepted as it is. And you have to awaken your dried flowers of spiritual joy, just watering them with good emotions and kind words.
Personally, for me, India revealed its rich spectrum of senses, which allows nerve cells on an unconscious level to experience the truth, even when it is not yet accessible to definitions and conclusions. I began to realize my own delusions and limitations through intuitive enlightenment. Intuition is something that’s impossible to learn. All our shortcomings and virtues are inseparable in us, this is the essence of everyone. But what echoes in the soul and that will resonate, depends on the fullness of the person himself. India just unveils us.
I had never experienced exercising freedom in full confidence to achieve what I desired. This was the first decisive challenge to me – to start learning English from scratch at the age of 40, to change the way of life and even the country. I started living as if I would never be as young as at the moment, today and now. I was not afraid of love, although I already knew that it could throw many surprises. Maturity was dawning, and I was already an “experienced lady”. Why run away from the past, if thanks to it I had become wiser and could use it in the future.
Goa, India. Presentiments did not deceive me, considering the decor of the small military airport at Dabolim, crammed with people arriving in a full Boeing. Under the lop-eared fans instead of air conditioners the crowd chaotically moved in a close flow. My friend Polia, ostentatious blonde with a nice figure, snorted and announced her demands. She needed to visit the toilet, to get out of her warm clothes, change shoes, drink something cold – and all this had to happen immediately, or she was ready to go back to Russia from the airport itself.
My motivations were different from hers. I came to India not just for vacation like her, but to live, not to seek love, but to love. My inner voice confirmed that it was here that sweeping changes awaited me, and mysticism began. The magic of the parallelism of the world embraced me and caressed me. The tropical smell of Goan air satiated my lungs and transmitted signals to the brain to breathe deeper. This is like get away from the frosty street to land in the warm foyer of the theater expecting a good performance.
After all the necessary formalities, everyone boarded the bus and set off. The usher was broadcasting something on the microphone. Few people listened to him, I did not sleep, like many, but did not listen. Delight of anticipation took my breath away. It was bright. I looked out the window. Polina slept next to me on the seat.
The traffic is left-sided, and I, out of the habit of a Russian motorist, looked out the road signs on the right and did not find them. The billboards dazzled with English letters and white people. On the road, the situation changed every second, surprises on the road were lurking from all the sides. Calming imperturbability of the driver testified to his high professionalism. On the roads, motorcycles outnumbered the cars. The average speed is 40 km / h.
Colonial architecture of houses, white crosses in courtyards or strange square flower beds with a lonely bush. I found out later, that from these signs at the entrance you can learn about the religion of the owners.
School-going children standing along the roadside in the similiar uniforms, girls with bows inpigtails, as in my childhood. Women in contrasting patterned multi-colored saris and long
light scarves. Everyone was smiling at me, caressing my eyes, with a kind of long-forgotten tenderness.
The pictures quickly changed, and I tried to even blink less often, so as not to miss the frames of the first acquaintance with the magnificent moments of the lingering dream.
Here was a man in a vest with a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth and white patches of paste on his swarthy skin explaining the way to someone. Not far away, the other at the same time across the road was urinating, not hiding and not embarrassed by anyone. “Poor thing”, – I thought, feeling sorry for him, – “quite ill, perhaps, he had to go before everyone”.
Someone from the window of a car, overtaking and clipping our bus, threw empty tin cans and a plastic bottle on the roadside. “Idiots are here, too”, – I muttered. “Black and yellow rickshaws, I’ll have to ride”, – I decided.
Here some Indian man was spitting red-orange liquid on the road. “Perhaps drank too much, and now vomiting, he’s not well”, – I sympathized.
Here a whole bunch of women was carrying loads on their heads, and rags strapped over their shoulders with naked and dirty children in them. “So, there are a lot of gypsies here”, – I observed.
And in the middle of the road there were cows with camel hump. “What strange things, – I observed carefully, – that’s why they are sacred here, maybe they have special milk”, – I thought.
And there was this dog, lying right on the sideway, and everyone was going around it. “Silly dog, someone may tread on you”, – I frowned.
And here was a wide, full-flowing river with two bridges over it, and cars were scurrying along each of them. “Wow! What a beauty, – I thought, – it’s strange, why do they need two parallel motor-bridges and with two-way traffic? “– I was surprised.
Fanciful temples, colorful houses, people and animals flashed before my eyes at the speed of the advertising clip. The sounds of horns, the smells of fish and spices – everything turned my head, and I looked up and started looking at the sky.
A clear, bright November sky, without a single cloud, blinding with the light of the endless space. Suddenly a huge eagle with a wing span of not less than one meter flies into my picture! Oh, prince of the forces of air! We caught sight of each other, exchanged places, and I did not descend from heaven anymore. As though he was specifically sent to me by someone: he flew in circles in front of my eyes, without leaving my sight. He infused a feeling of real freedom into me, encouraging confidence and soaring over all this mundane life. I began to see through his eyes, I became a bird in human form. I understood that in India you need to look at the sky, not to the ground.
The morning dawned as quickly as my hopes. A silver thread of light flashed from the sun, connecting my soul with the body.
It was early in the morning, but the streets were crowded, roadside barbers were already working, they were sweeping and watering near СКАЧАТЬ