So far, I have not mastered it.

Everything I built
again and again
collapsed too easily.

It hurt.

Each time,
I had to start from nothing.

Where do I find the resources again?
What do I build with?

How do I lay a foundation,
raise walls, a frame
strong enough to hold

against storm, wind, and quake
against enemies, friends, and waves

so that nothing — and no one —
can shake the balance of this space?

The place I choose to create:
my inner dwelling
a temple
a home

for God
for Spirit
for the Soul.

Related writings:
Porcelain People
The Solution Is Here — I Just Didn’t Know How to Reach It
Self-Work Is Not Self-Improvement. It Is Structural Correction

If this feels familiar
When You Know What to Do but Cannot Do It
(enter 2432026)

It’s for those who struggle to define what they offer, how they’ll share it, where they’re going, and what outcome they’re truly aiming for.

There are moments when you move forward almost blindly, led only by surges of energy and a persistent pull toward something you can’t quite ignore.

— Why do you flip out right away? What button did I push to get this reaction?

— I already told you — I don’t have clarity yet. I don’t have an answer yet. And I asked you not to touch this topic (figuring out how to work for myself while I’m still experimenting and don’t know the path yet).

— But how are you supposed to do anything if you don’t even understand what comes next?

— I can see that every step opens something new, and I’m just… walking into it.

— But how can you — you don’t even know…

— Okay. Enough.

These conversations drive me up the wall.

When someone puts on that “I’m just trying to help” smart face and then starts explaining how I’m doing everything wrong. But nobody knows what the right way looks like.

Not yet.

So yeah, I put my spikes out.

Don’t touch me right now.
You don’t know what’s best for me.
I don’t even know myself yet.
I just know one thing.
I can’t keep doing it the old way. And I haven’t figured out the new way yet.

That’s it.

By the way, figuring out how to protect my own space took me quite a while too — months, even years.

I gradually got the hang of it.

First a simple “No.”
No explanations.

Then a firm “I don’t want to talk about this.”

And sometimes even a more emotional:
“Please don’t touch this topic — it’s really sensitive for me and I might blow up.”

I guess learning this skill is a necessary step on the way to building your own inner space.

Because even when you start constructing a house, the very first thing you do is put up a fence around the territory.

You may already have the blueprint in your head.

A clear idea of how you want it to look.

The inner resources to build it.

But unlike regular construction, I can’t hire outside workers to create my inner space for me.

That trick doesn’t work here.

It’s just me.

Only me.

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Related writings:
Don’t Amplify My Entropy! Domestic Dialectics | No. 1 | In Pink.
The Need to Be Unique
For those of us born in the ’70s who intend to meet 2070

If this feels familiar
When You Know What to Do but Cannot Do It
(enter 2432026)

Welcome to my first Substack audio experiment. The recording comes from a personal archive of thousands of spontaneous voice memos—unscripted, unedited, and never meant for publication. I’m fascinated by how speaking out loud often surfaces phrases and insights I’d never consciously write down. Below you’ll find the original Russian audio alongside a full English translation. If this format resonates with you, I’d love to hear your thoughts.

(0:00) So, I’ve got this question that came up. Can a rational person actually fall in love?

(0:10) I’d like to reflect on reason and love, on reason as distinct from mere intellect. And how you “lose your mind,” lose reason when falling in love.
And what even is infatuation, love? What’s going on with the hormones? How does this affect the brain, intelligence, reason?

(0:42) If a person is rational—meaning they’ve learned to manage emotions, feelings, and thoughts. Conscious, as we usually say. Consciousness is about managing your own manifestations.

(0:59) Meaning, you’re the master in your own inner space. And you know how to manage it. But managing doesn’t mean suppressing.

(1:13) So if you notice that energy is rising, hormones are kicking in, you even feel yourself getting carried away. As a rational person, you can observe this. In principle, you could, of course, just say: “That’s it, quiet down all neurons, hush hormones, jump around a bit and calm down, that’s all.”

(1:42) “I’m a rock, and you can’t shake me.” Well, that’s possible too.

(1:49) Or perhaps a rational person, on the contrary, would say: “Oh, energy’s flowing, that’s awesome, the sea is knee-deep, I can do anything. And that’s great—I’m in my flow.” Overall, that’s a good thing.

(2:11) So falling in love is energetically beneficial. And a rational person might actually choose to amplify this, since it’s efficient—your actions have higher ROI. Actions come easily to you. You can communicate with people more effortlessly, energy appears there. So the question is: where to direct this energy.

(2:39) Overall, perhaps reason is about managing this kind of energy, which you’re able to notice within yourself in the moment. What does infatuation even mean, right? It’s probably a resonance with another person. Or even not with a person per se, but with some higher, better state of your own, which this person activated and revealed in you—or rather, helped you to manifest, so that suddenly within you emerges that state in which you feel better.

(3:31) And knowing this, you feel grateful to that person. You understand that they carry certain energy, certain frequencies and vibrations, which, with the right resonance, activate something within you too, right? And so you’re enjoying it—well, for example, I’m enjoying it with gratitude, yes? Meaning, I understand that regardless of how things unfold later, and whatever that other person does or thinks, however events may turn out, the activation has already happened—so I already feel good, and that means there’s reason to be grateful for the moment itself.

(4:22) And so, if I see this person tomorrow, hear them, whatever—enter into interaction with them, I’m already open from this feeling of gratitude for the fact that I was able to feel a different state within myself, which is, well, somewhat better than usual, right?

(4:44) So it turns out that if I act rationally, I can consciously choose to fall in love out of gratitude, or, by the way, fall in love in response out of gratitude. That’s quite funny, what I just said—I’m just curious myself.

(5:08) So, the more conscious a person is, the more rational they are, the better they’ve learned to manage their thoughts, emotions, feelings, right? Meaning, this whole dance of neurons and hormones, yes? So, in what way... what? Well, I mean: to what extent is the state of infatuation managed, tracked, and regulated by them.

(5:43) And I think that a rational person, of course, will allow themselves to get carried away—with gratitude, with curiosity and interest. They’ll observe this whole process and act according to reason, yes, according to circumstances. But they won’t plunge headfirst into the abyss like an irrational person, and they won’t succumb to suffering. So if something doesn’t work out, they’ll, so to speak, wisely step back, shake hands, and part ways.

(6:22) There you go—but unharmed, with gratitude inside.

Is this format useful?
Let me know in the comments — I’m testing the waters.

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What caused them?

What depended on you, and what did not?

How random are accidents, really?

For the most part, today looks like yesterday, yesterday looks like the day before.
The last month resembles the previous one.
This year looks like the last year, and that one looks like the year before…

Why should next year suddenly be better than this one?
Why should life five years from now be happier than today?

By what law of nature would money, health, or happiness suddenly fall from the sky onto our heads?

Tomorrow looks like today.
Tomorrow does not exist.

There is always only today.

Yesterday ended yesterday.
Today you can still change tomorrow.
Tomorrow you cannot, because tomorrow will become a new today.

Today.
And only today.

Five Minutes for What Matters

Even five minutes of a changed today means five minutes of a changed tomorrow, and five minutes of a changed future.

There are 1,440 minutes in a day.
That is 288 blocks of five minutes.

On average we sleep eight hours.
That leaves 192 blocks of five minutes.

We live and work within a limited number of life domains.
Our reality consists of family (relationships), work (business), friends (environment), rest (travel), creativity, learning, health, self-realization, and so on.

How many areas does that make?
Eight? Ten?

Roughly two hours a day for each.

Usually work takes much more time and everything else receives less.
Or attention moves unevenly between them.
But that is not the point.

The point is something else.

If you introduce even a tiny change of five minutes each day into every sphere of your life, then later…

Later, quantity may turn into quality.

That is the law.

The Law of Creating “Accidents”

“Development happens through the accumulation of quantitative changes in a system, which eventually exceed a certain threshold and lead to a sudden transition into a new quality.”

— G. Hegel, F. Engels

This is a universal law of the development of nature and of our material world.

How this works in the immaterial world is still unknown to science.
Or perhaps it is simply unknown to me.

But in the material world it works like this: accumulate quantity, and it eventually becomes quality.

You can accumulate anything: knowledge, mistakes, money and emotions, body fat, trash in a bin, conflicts and dissatisfaction with life, years and impressions.

Once enough has accumulated, a leap happens.

The most magical word in this law is “leap.”

Small, gradual quantitative changes accumulate invisibly, and then suddenly a jump occurs from one state to another, breaking the linear expectation of change.

In the material world, a leap often happens in the form of an event.

An unexpected one.

By pure chance.

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Related writings:
Don’t Amplify My Entropy! Domestic Dialectics | No. 1 | In Pink.
Porcelain People Fragility Stronger Than Steel
For those of us born in the ’70s who intend to meet 2070

If this feels familiar
When You Know What to Do but Cannot Do It
(enter 2432026)

It turned out beautiful — almost like the cobalt net pattern on my favorite porcelain tea set.

This set came from my grandmother and is already more than seventy years old. Of course it is no longer complete, but I have always carried it with me — through cities and countries. It has great value for me. Thin, elegant, perfectly shaped, with the beautiful pattern from the famous “Cobalt Net” collection of the Imperial Porcelain Factory.

So there I was, looking at my future Christmas ornament and thinking: I stretched the apple mesh over it — but what next? How would I apply that cobalt pattern? Surely not directly over the mesh. It would be nice to know how it is actually done.

Porcelain and its secrets

I went online and found a very interesting video with a tour of the Imperial Porcelain Factory workshops.

For some reason I had always imagined that such a factory must be fully mechanized and automated. But it turned out to be quite different. There are many rooms with long tables where women sit, pouring porcelain mixture into molds and hand-painting porcelain figurines and tableware.

I was also surprised by an interesting historical fact. When Peter the Great’s daughter, Empress Elizabeth, wanted to open a porcelain factory in Saint Petersburg, no one could obtain the formula for porcelain. Everywhere the recipe was kept in the strictest secrecy — in China, in Europe, everywhere.

Scientists, craftsmen and chemists spent years trying to discover the formula. They mixed limestone, quartz and kaolin — white clay — searching for the right proportions and firing temperature to create true porcelain: thin, strong and almost translucent.

In the eighteenth century, producing porcelain was a matter of national prestige. In 1744 Elizabeth ordered the creation of Russia’s own porcelain production so that the court would no longer depend on imported French porcelain.

Making porcelain perfect is not easy. It is heated and fired at extremely high temperatures. During firing it can warp, deform or crack — but if it survives the heat, it becomes almost eternal.

Porcelain is not simply clay. In its properties it is closer to glass: thin, ringing, almost transparent. It is made of kaolin, quartz and feldspar.

Porcelain is fired twice. First at about 900 degrees, and then again at around 1400. All these processes happen slowly and gradually, with careful heating and cooling so that the porcelain keeps its form and acquires the desired qualities.

Porcelain people

Fragility stronger than steel

This morning, while making coffee, I glanced again at my tea set and thought: “My goodness… what a complex process it must have gone through.”

And then an interesting thought came to me: perhaps we humans are like porcelain too.

We are made of the same simple substances — calcium, silicon, carbon, water. The difference is only in proportions. Some people have heavier bones, some lighter. Some have stronger bodies, some sharper minds. But the material is the same.

And then the firing begins.

Shaping. Firing. Shaping again. Another firing.

This is how life forms us — bending and breaking us, shaping us, firing us, cooling us, polishing us, glazing us, and firing us again.

Some people crack.

Some cannot endure the heat and begin to melt, just like porcelain figurines that lose their form in the kiln when the mixture is not prepared correctly.

After each burning we acquire a new “glaze” — experience, resilience, patience.

Steel, by the way, is tempered at temperatures between about 600 and 950 degrees.

One could even say poetically: porcelain is born at 1400 degrees in order to become transparent, while steel is forged at around 900 degrees to become strong.

Both pass through fire.
Each simply learns in its own way how to hold its shape.

Clarity Forged in Fire

We say “a hardened character.”
In Russian, we say, “he went through fire, water, and brass pipes.”
We say, “life bent him, broke him, fired him, and shaped him.”

And perhaps this is exactly the intention of the great workshop we all live in — to give us the necessary form and to temper the qualities we need.

After all, evolution is precisely the great process of selecting those who are able to survive. Through genes and character, through habits and upbringing, the formula that allowed someone not to crack and to endure is passed on from generation to generation.

Nature creates its porcelain people this way — strong, resilient and… slightly transparent.

But will anyone want to protect them?

My thoughts go further. I begin to compare people with tableware.

Porcelain tableware is not very practical. It is so thin that it lets light pass through it. It requires careful handling.

In everyday life we use faience, ceramics, sometimes plastic or even paper — things that are not a problem to break or throw away.

And what if we have started to treat people in the same way?

The main thing is that it is easy with them. Convenient. Practical.

How comfortable it is when there is no need to be careful with a person, no need to look closely at the delicate pattern of a soul.

You can always replace them with someone else.

Someone more convenient.
Someone you do not mind breaking.
Someone you do not mind discarding when you grow tired.

Porcelain values

Porcelain is not meant for microwaves or dishwashers.

It was created for special moments.

For slow, atmospheric tea drinking.

For hands that slow down enough to notice the elegance of a golden rim, the shimmer of the glaze and the history of the pattern.

To be “fragile” does not mean to be weak. Perhaps it means exactly the opposite — that you are made from something rare, something forged by fire, time and patient craftsmanship.

And perhaps the real problem is not fragility at all.

Perhaps the real problem is that the world has stopped believing that some things are worth protecting even if they are impractical.

That is why I treat my “porcelain values” carefully (and I am not talking about the tea set).

Not because it is convenient or practical.

But because they survived the fire.

Because they were tempered and became strong and semi-transparent — letting light and time pass through them.

Porcelain ages slowly and nobly. If handled carelessly, small cracks may appear, the gilding may wear away over time, the glaze may yellow slightly and the surface may develop a soft patina.

But overall porcelain is a very durable material. It can exist for centuries without decomposing or releasing harmful substances.

The fire gives form.
The form learns to hold the light.

*December 2025

Related writings:

A Point That Does Not Tremble
The Solution Is Here — I Just Didn’t Know How to Reach It
Self-Work Is Not Self-Improvement. It Is Structural Correction

If this feels familiar

When You Know What to Do but Cannot Do It
(enter 2432026)

At that time, I wasn’t thinking about consciousness or states. I was simply trying not to go insane from my own body.

In 10th grade, I was referred to a hypnotherapist as part of my treatment for neurodermatitis.

The referral came from what in Russian is called a “skin and venereal disease clinic,” where I had been under treatment for more than three years (at 17, even going there felt humiliating — I was always embarrassed to be associated with that place).

Neurodermatitis

In case you don’t know what it is, I’ll explain in two sentences.

Neurodermatitis (nerves + skin) is a condition where your entire body constantly itches. You scratch your skin until it bleeds, and the more you scratch, the worse it gets: itch — scratch — scab — itch again — you tear the scab off, it bleeds, the healing areas start itching too…

These half-dry, half-bleeding patches cover your whole body, including your face — which, for a 17-year-old girl, is… I won’t say the word — but you can probably guess it. If you’re curious, you can Google it — there are thousands of images.

Neurodermatitis: treatment attempts

They treated me for a long time. And nothing worked.

1
With a thick, oil-black ointment that stained everything. Clothes were covered in dark patches that simply wouldn’t wash out, no matter how long you boiled them.

So my bedsheets were always kept separately — a dull grey stack in the closet. Clothes had to be cotton. And out of all the Soviet skincare options, the only thing I could use on my face was squeezed oatmeal.

2
In the hospital, they injected calcium chloride into a vein. That was something.

If you’ve had it, you know: your mouth dries out instantly, and your whole body fills with heat — as if your insides were being flushed with something burning.

The only upside was that the internal burning distracted, for a while, from the itching on the outside. Your mind would start drifting in a different direction — and that, in itself, helped. At least you could switch to another sensation for a bit.

3
They also gave iron injections — into the muscle — because pills weren’t enough.

And those injections had such an effect… it’s hard to even describe.

Once, in the hospital, I almost lost my mind because of it.

Just imagine this:

You wake up in the morning, go to brush your teeth, squeeze toothpaste onto your brush, lean over the sink, open your mouth in the mirror —

and there…

in your mouth…

there are no teeth.

In a second, I broke out in a cold sweat.
In the next second, I realized the teeth were still there — but completely black.

Which didn’t make it better. It made it worse. I started brushing them furiously, but the blackness wouldn’t go away. I ran to the doctors in tears.

Idiots.

Turned out — it was from the iron injections. “It happens. Don’t worry. We’ll lower the dose, everything will go back to normal.”

4
They tried pills too. Sedatives.

They didn’t help at all. I was slowed down completely (they even excused me from school exams), but I still couldn’t sleep — and I kept scratching.

Night memories

I spent my nights by the window, watching people pass by. Mostly drunk ones — there were more of them, because there was a grocery store in our building. From the store, they would drift into our stairwell, fall asleep on the wide marble windowsills, and later, in the dark, slowly wander and sway back into their own reality.

In central Saint Petersburg, there are many buildings from the late 19th and early 20th century, with grand front entrances. Wrought-iron railings, ornate plasterwork, wide stair landings lit by tall windows with deep wooden sills — wide enough for a grown man to lie down and sleep stretched out.

After the 1917 Revolution, these buildings were taken from their original owners and redistributed by the Bolsheviks into communal apartments.

We lived in one of them too. Poor, but on a grand scale: four-meter ceilings, decorative molding, a tiled corner stove, and huge windows overlooking the avenue…

By the way, our building was designed by the same architect who built the Singer House (now the House of Books on Nevsky).

My window had a wide sill too. And from there, I watched the dark street, the streetlamp, the pharmacy… and couples.

For some reason, couples at night often argued outside. Watching them, I tried to imagine what they were fighting about. And I couldn’t believe that anything in the world could be more serious than what I was going through.

After scratching half my back raw, I would go take a hot shower. Water was a kind of magic. At first, it hurt — sharply, against the open skin. Every drop felt like it was hitting something exposed. But then… the pain just step back. And for a short while, my body would let me go. Long enough to fall asleep for a couple of hours.

When I felt that the lack of sleep was starting to affect my body, I would drag myself to the Medical Institute where my classmate’s father worked. He was the head of the physiotherapy department, and he would take me in without a queue and sit me under an ionizing shower.

It was actually a great thing. You sit under it like under a hairdresser’s hood, and from that hood ions fall onto you — your hair literally stands on end. It felt so good. I would fall asleep right there under that hood, and then crawl over to a couch and sleep until the department closed.

This kind of treatment, with varying degrees of success, went on for a couple of years — but brought no real results. In the end, having exhausted all the conventional methods of fighting for my health, the doctors decided to try something alternative.

They prescribed hypnosis.

Officially.
In a clinic.
In a group.
Ten sessions.

Neurodermatitis under hypnosis

At the first session, I sat obediently with my eyes closed, quietly scratching.
Nothing special. Just: “Close your eyes… relax… you are by the sea… the sound of waves… when I say ‘zero,’ you will open your eyes.”

The second, third, and fourth sessions — the same thing. I memorized the script.

By the fifth session, I finally slipped out of reality — because when I opened my eyes, I realized I didn’t remember anything about the waves.

At the sixth session, I fell asleep almost immediately — right at the beginning of our “sea meditation.”

At the seventh, even earlier — while we were still waiting for the doctor to arrive.
I obediently opened my eyes at the word “zero.”

By the eighth session, I decided to switch from a chair to a couch (some of the “patients” in our group had been doing that for a while), and took the session lying down.

For the ninth session, I came half an hour early — and fell asleep on the couch before it even started.

And it was after that ninth, almost magical session that something shifted.

That’s the moment I want to tell you about.

Ta-ra-ram… ta-dam!

Drumroll!

It hit me!

I don’t know what it was. But I woke up with a smile from ear to ear, and even at the word “zero,” I was still feeling that overwhelming wave of elation flooding through me.

I walked out of the clinic almost dancing, and as I moved along the sidewalk, I had to hold myself back from jumping!

I wanted to sing! I wanted to hug everyone I passed!

On the bus, I looked at everyone with a smile and caught their puzzled glances.
I had to look away, even though inside everything was screaming:

People, I love you!

Of course, I held myself back. I understood perfectly well how that kind of ecstasy might be interpreted.

At home, I looked at myself in the mirror — and was stunned. I had never seen myself like that before. I stared into my own eyes and couldn’t look away. And then I kept spinning, dancing around the room for a long time…

Evening came. Then night. Then morning… After that, I don’t really remember. For some reason, only fragments of that first day stayed in my memory.

And then it was gone.

After the tenth session, there was nothing special anymore. And no matter how many times I tried to return to that state — that feeling of flight, of overwhelming, almost unreal, all-encompassing love — I couldn’t.

The solution is here

Deep within, Matter holds the certainty that the solution is HERE.
One has to descend into the very depth, in search of that explosion of the wondrous Vibration of Love.

— The Mother (Mirra Alfassa), Satprem

I shared my experience with a yogi I knew. He didn’t take me for crazy. He told me about nirvana and advised me to be careful with hypnosis. He said it would be better to work on my own — repeat affirmations, work with the subconscious, and not let anyone else into my head.

It was he who gave me my first book by Satprem about Sri Aurobindo — a stack of printed pages. In Soviet bookstores back then, there was no such thing as “yoga.” But there was Erickson — and I began practicing self-suggestion based on his methods.

Still, I couldn’t reach that state again.

But now I knew for sure — it exists inside.

It simply IS.

Somewhere there, very deep, in the bottomless space of my inner reality — like a treasure sealed behind seven locks — there is a source of immense energy, endless joy, love, and total acceptance.

It is there.
It is simply THERE.

The neurodermatitis didn’t disappear after hypnosis.

Full recovery came much later — and quite unexpectedly.

When I felt completely drained, and out of despair I was ready for anything, I began to pray, asking for a sign… The sign came as a notice on a university door: “We invite you to join a group… we work with energy… your body will heal, you will feel much better…”

I signed up.

We studied for two months, sitting at university desks, and it didn’t seem like we were doing anything special: moving our hands in the air, trying to feel energy flows, focusing on the colors of the chakras.

At home, we did all sorts of things — salt water cleanses (three liters and some strange exercises for the stomach), chewing sunflower oil in the mornings, breathing exercises…

And after those very practices, the neurodermatitis simply gave up.

As if it had had enough of me — it just left.
Quietly.
Without a word.

Related writings:
A Point That Does Not Tremble
Porcelain People
Beauty and Viability

If this feels familiar
When You Know What to Do but Cannot Do It
(enter 2432026)

We search for ourselves and our purpose, dig into the past, analyze mistakes, plan the future.

And we are advised to live in the present.

Because life is a moment — in Now.

But right now, you are sitting at a computer, sipping coffee from a cup, hunched over or with one leg crossed over the other. Chewing something. Maybe smoking…

The Crown of Divine Creation

Meanwhile, the body is working — chewing, swallowing, breathing, pumping blood. Thoughts run through the brain’s synapses, the left hemisphere switched to logic, the right to images.

The mind dominates the body, and we (Homo sapiens — the crown of divine creation) are now capable of producing a new complex sentence, perhaps even with subtle humor or hidden double meaning…

While we think, our heart continues to beat, the stomach digests a sandwich, the useful is absorbed, the harmful is neutralized, waste moves through the digestive tract toward exit, and billions of RNA molecules in each cell of our body produce new proteins of life.

The entire biological mechanism — in which everything is perfectly fitted to everything else — works smoothly and without interruption.

Including the mind — the mind given to us by nature so that we could realize how exceptional we are.

So that, unlike animals, we could not only see the beauty of the surrounding world, but also (just think about it!) describe this world in mathematical and physical formulas, capture it in paintings and poems, photograph it with a camera — also invented by the mind — and share our creations through “artificial intelligence.”

One of a Kind

You are unique. You are a one-of-a-kind specimen!

There has never been anyone like you on planet Earth before, and there never will be again! Nature made us unique.

We were endowed with reason, and therefore we can understand this. Understand and realize that it is time to stop comparing everyone with everyone else: who is better/worse, smarter/dumber, stronger/weaker, and so on.

Each of us is an absolutely unique creation, existing in the present moment.

Just imagine — there are now 8 billion of us on the planet: independent little cells moving within the vast organism of the Universe, granted the happiness of AWARENESS of ourselves.

And we are all moving somewhere, colliding and parting like particles under a microscope in chaotic Brownian motion.

Brownian motion is the random movement of microscopic particles suspended in a liquid or gas, caused by collisions with molecules of the surrounding medium. Due to these random impacts, a particle frequently changes its direction and speed.

— (R. Brown, 1827)

I wonder — do these particles understand anything?

And if they had reason, could they avoid the impacts of the “environment” and change their direction and speed by their own will?

Oh, power of reason, grant me the ability to understand the meaning — at least by a hundredth of a percent…

Some kind of closed loop. Rat races that return each new generation to the same existential questions that troubled our ancestors five or ten thousand years ago…

Or maybe it’s not a circle, but a spiral? An evolving, pulsating spiral that, compressing and expanding, returns to itself each time in a new quality?

With new knowledge, a new survival gene tested “on humans,” which can now be preserved for oneself in selfish purposes of self-improvement, according to the wise principles of natural selection…

It is ridiculous for a seed to complain about bad soil that raised it into lettuce and not into a cedar. It was a lettuce seed.

— Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

Purpose

So what was I writing about?

Rambling from thought to thought…

So where is the uniqueness?

My own, personal, individual uniqueness?

That’s exactly the point — we are trying to solve this question in the simplest and most foolish way: read — get an answer.

We search for solutions with the mind, forgetting that the mind is only one of our “working tools,” with rather limited functions.

Personally, I don’t really like the word “purpose.” Nor do I like the phrases “personal growth” or “spiritual growth.”

Take a tree, for example — it doesn’t worry about its purpose: it grows, sheds leaves in due time, blooms when needed, and bears fruit in autumn.

Inside each fruit there is a pit or seed, which already knows what kind of tree it is and where it needs to grow.

If only we could discern our own “seeds and pits” and learn to follow their knowledge…

Yes, by the way — an un-sprouted seed can rot, or someone might simply pick it up and eat it!

Subscribe now

Related writings:
On The Blind Spot of Our Own Nature
Can a rational person actually fall in love and stay conscious while doing it?
Walking on the Edge of Thought

If this feels familiar
When You Know What to Do but Cannot Do It
(enter 2432026)

We were never told that every person in the world has their own unique, unrepeatable, specific, original, unconventional, individual way of perceiving reality.

And this is extremely important.

Perhaps this is the most important thing I have learned so far.

— What did you like to do as a child?
— I liked making colorful fried eggs…

How do you like that answer? To me, it is wonderful.

It has everything: a special way of seeing the world, the birth of a crazy idea, inspiration, boldness, creative realization, and an inventive presentation. A creator’s approach!

I couldn’t not take a photo. I was completely shocked.

Perception of possibilities

Breakfast in bed

— Mom, don’t worry, it’s all edible, it’s just food coloring, try it, — with these words my son placed a tray with a plate right on my blanket.

Half-asleep, barely opening one eye, I instantly snapped into full awareness — because reality literally stunned me.

The photograph is already more than fifteen years old, but I keep it carefully.
Because this is not about fried eggs. And not about childhood mischief.
This is about his difference from other people, as pompous as that may sound.

Self-perception

In the photograph you can see much more than a green fried egg.

This is precisely about that natural uniqueness that exists in every one of us.

That personal and unconventional quality which is so difficult to see in oneself.
Because for us, within our own way of perceiving the world, there is nothing special about it.

This is important to understand.

We cannot recognize ourselves and our unique abilities precisely because, for us, there is nothing special about them.

And if no one ever points them out to us, they may remain undeveloped — lying somewhere deep inside, under the heavy weight of self-doubt.

Perception of the world

For my son, making a colorful dish was nothing special.
He was simply being creative, playing with whatever was at hand.

Sometimes he would add food coloring to something.
Sometimes he would add menthol to Coca-Cola to see how a glove attached to the bottle would inflate.
Sometimes he would attach a phone to a toy car to drive it under the couch and film what was there.

The idea of filming in hard-to-reach places. A remote-controlled car.

Or there was this case.

I walk into the kitchen in the morning and see the kids cooking something.

— What is this?
— A jaw.
— Where did you get it?
— We found it while walking.
— Why are you boiling it?
— Would you prefer it lying around the house unsterilized?
— I don’t want a jaw in the house at all. Why do I need a jaw in my house?
— We have to.

End of conversation.

Well, the person needs it.
Why explain?

It’s just necessary.

A jaw

You’ll agree — for a child there was nothing special in these actions.
He was simply living and creating by desire, with complete seriousness.
There was no deep initial idea or goal.
He was simply interested.

Reaction to perception

There is one more important thing I realized — unfortunately, very late.
All our reactions are not reactions to people or situations.
They are reactions to our own perception of people and situations.

How simple.
My God, how simple.
Just think about it.

We were not taught this at school

— We were not taught that every person has a unique perception of the world.

— We were not taught to observe. To observe ourselves, our inner impulses, our subtle urges… our unusual “external expressions” — not to mention observing this in others.

— We were not taught to notice differences in perception between people.

— We were not taught that people are very, very different — and that you cannot measure everyone by the same standard.

— We were not taught to be surprised and say: “Listen, this is your special trait. This is rare. Maybe you have a talent? You could develop it…”

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Related writings:
Porcelain People
The Need to Be Unique
Just Yesterday Today Was Tomorrow

If this feels familiar
Code De Core — Nature Inspired Art Book | Inner Clarity & Life Transitions
When You Know What to Do but Cannot Do It
(enter 2432026)

State

Being with yourself.
Inside yourself.

Describing yourself by yourself is not simple.

It’s like trying to describe a painting while being the painting itself.
To describe a painting, you have to step back and look.

It’s the same with state.
You need to observe yourself as if from the outside.

Why?

To learn the truth about yourself.

To stop living in illusions you tell yourself,
believe in,
and that do not align with your actual state.

Because those are only opinions, interpretations, conclusions.
And your state — it simply is.
It is truth.

The most important thing is not to confuse yourself with your mood.
To observe your state instead.

As if from the outside.

For a long time.

So that you can compare yourself
with yourself yesterday,
the day before yesterday,
last year,
two years ago,
five years ago.

To truly look at yourself from every angle —
in stress and in joy,
in abundance and in lack,
in apathy and doubt,
in anger and irritation,
on the wings of love and under the weight of illness.

Looking is not enough.
It must be felt, reflected on, and realized — in order to be known.

To understand your state in the morning and in the evening,
in winter and in summer,
in one city and in another country.

In bad weather and good.
During a new moon and a full moon.
During magnetic storms, thunder, heat, and frost.
Your state by the sea and in the city.

Your state with loved ones and family,
with friends and without them.
Your state next to one person,
and next to another.

A state under the power of emotions.
A state of fear.
A state under pressure.
A state of joy.
A state of freedom.
A state of abundance.
A state of need.
A state of hopelessness.
A state of pain and loneliness.
A state in the mind.
A state in the body.
A state of aggression.
A state of madness,
confusion, and revelation.
A state of surrender.
A state of a silent mind.
A state of inner quiet and peace.
A state of safety.
A state of flow.
A state of unconditional love.
A state of true richness.

A state without a state.

All of this is inside.

Everyone has it.

It must be lived through.

It is interesting.
It is important.
It is necessary.

This is the lesson.

This is what the soul strives for —
to experience these states on Earth,
to learn how they arise,
emerging from the depth of oneself outward,
and then returning back into oneself again.

To learn to feel them.
To live in them.
To manifest outward with full awareness
and return inward,
filling oneself with new experience
and developing new qualities
so essential for growth and understanding.

And this continues for a long, long time…

Until…

Until you are no longer contained by yourself.

Until you want to expand more and more —
deeper and farther into yourself.

Until you suddenly see
that you are in State-with
something vast and living,
inseparable from it,
because you are inside it,
and it is inside you.

Until you begin to feel
that you are everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

And that your state can no longer be described with words…

Because there is no state anymore.

Because you are merely a point without states,
embracing infinity…

And continuing to move toward
where everything is one.

Toward the place
from which everything came.

Someone sent me a song to listen to, and I liked it very much — especially the video. It feels romantic, a little sad, and somehow… full of fairy-tale associations.

Fragments of the early nineteenth century seem to appear in it: Pushkin — a park — a duel — a gazebo — childhood — a fireplace — ballet — Andersen — a ballerina — a tin soldier — flames…

One of the lines goes like this: “To the music of autumn rain yellow leaves kiss each other…” D. Khmelev — Burned to Ashes (The song is in Russian.)

A Tin Heart

The most important thing in any song, of course, is the poetry.

Not the usual nonsense like “love you — miss you, hold you — lose you, crying — dying…” — but something like this:

The night fed on my despair,
Swallowing greedily like wind devours smoke,
My prayers…
And the veins swelling on my canvas
I opened with my thoughts…
And those thoughts were sharp
Like a razor.

How precisely that is said.

Walking on the Edge of Thought

We were taught that words can hurt.
We know that.

But why were we never taught to watch our thoughts?

Why does no one loudly warn us that wrong thoughts can be dangerous?

That you can cut yourself painfully with a thought.
That you can slice your entire soul with your own thoughts.

That they can push a person into despair — and, even worse, into illness, madness, or even suicide.

With nothing but thoughts.
Your own thoughts.

Sorry for such a dark turn…

Where Do Thoughts Come From?

Not just from our heads — but in general.

Maybe somewhere in the sky there is a kitchen where thoughts are baked — like little pies.
Some with jam.
Others with poison…

Knock on wood.

Tell me what your thoughts are, and I will tell you who you are.

Razor Thoughts and Wooden Thoughts

Thoughts are not only sharp like razors.

Some are blunt like logs — heavy, lazy, unfinished.

They do almost nothing useful.
They lie there like dead weight, taking up space and simply pressing down on you.

It hurts me to watch how people live inside the endless circulation of their own thoughts and become exhausted under their influence.

How to Remove Sharp and Blunt Objects from Your Head

Sometimes it’s enough to simply tell a thought: “Shoo! Out. And don’t come back.”

This works very well with thoughts that are only making their first attempt to enter your mind.

It’s harder with those that have already settled in and feel at home there.

Of course it’s sad to part with them.
They got used to us, and we got used to them.

But if you want peace in your house, you will have to ask them to leave.

Sometimes politely.
Sometimes firmly.
Sometimes with a hug and a gentle push out the door.
Sometimes by stamping your foot.

And sometimes — I have noticed this strange thing — some thoughts only understand strong language.

The main thing is to look thoughts straight in the eyes, hold your ground, and not retreat.

Fear

Sometimes another trouble appears — fear.

It comes with its stupid questions:

“What if you can’t live without this thought?”
“What if something happens?”

And then you wonder: How would I live without that thought?

Perfectly well, actually.
Much better than with it.

Fear is like a chain — always attached to something.

Either to painful experiences from the past or to frightening images of the future.

This chain can be traced: thought → image or memory → emotion → fear

And then it can be untied and reassembled differently.

Psychologists have many techniques for this, and the internet is full of information.

The Diamond Fear on a Magnet

I remember one particular case.

I had a fear so strong that it felt like a huge stone lying on my chest. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get up.

I tried to visualize it.
In my imagination I lifted the stone from my chest and placed it in front of me, intending to smash it.

The stone was the size of a suitcase, dripping with mud.

I suddenly felt the urge to wash it.

So in my imagination I poured water over it again and again.
When it finally began to shine like a piece of gold, I took a huge hammer and smashed it to pieces.

The stone shattered into billions of sparkling diamond splinters, and the space around me filled with rainbow light.

Suddenly I felt sorry to throw away such treasure. So I imagined a magnet that pulled all the tiny diamond crystals back together.

And in the end, from that terrible fear there remained only a precious stone in my memory.

A suitcase-sized one.

On a magnet.

Do not engage in dialogue

Now I try to treat rising fears the same way I treat unwanted thoughts.
As soon as I feel fear creeping in, I say:

“What are you doing here? Go away. I’m not feeding you anymore.”

It answers: “But what if…? And then what will you do?”
I shrug and say that now, besides my past experience, I also have new principles I try to follow.

And fear has absolutely nothing to do with them.
At all.
So — thank you everyone, you’re free to go.

In short, with fear it’s the same as with thoughts:

Look it straight in the eyes.
Do not engage in dialogue.
Do not give it energy.
Stand your ground.

In your conscious choice.

I know exactly
where I am inside
in those old photographs.

I remember.

The place from which I look into the camera — it is still the same.

Even in memory,
I know exactly
from where I am looking
at my memories.

I don’t remember the state I was in.

But I know from where I am looking at that state.

States change.
Memories rearrange themselves.
There is a “before” and an “after”
(hello, therapy).

And yet, there is something unchanged: the place
from which I look at “before” and “after” —
at all of this.

States change.
Memories shift.

But the place
from which I look
remains the same.

—

If this is your kind of reflection, stay connected.

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—

Why did I create this?

Probably to see in myself
what I didn’t want to face —
or wasn’t able to.

To look more closely at who I am.

To uncover the illusions through
which I misperceive both myself and the world.

To dive into the depths of my feelings and beliefs —
and there, discover the roots of fear and doubt.

To understand what truly matters —
and what does not.

To change, in the process,
what is still imperfect.

To notice how old opinions
are used to explain reality to myself —
flattening new, valuable experiences
along with their sensations.

To allow a new motivation to arise:
the desire to form a conscious,
reasoned response — to be able,
in any difficult situation, to “press the button”
and activate a useful reaction.

One I choose deliberately.
Not one accidentally triggered by hormones.

To clear my inner space.
To let go of what’s worn out.
To keep only what is true and clear.

How is this done?

— To understand what I want.
Why I want it.

And how I would like it to feel in its ideal form —
not in terms of money or other people’s opinions,
but in terms of my own inner experience:
safety, reliability, ease, integrity.

— To hold the intention to embody these qualities —
not to receive them from others,
but to cultivate them within myself.

— To recognize what stands in the way —
beliefs, fears, blocks — and to know how
I will meet them along the path.

— To form my own position.
Not to do what others expect of me.
Not to climb someone else’s mountain,
overcoming obstacles that are not mine.

— To be able to speak — and to explain.
To not punish myself for it.
To not blame anyone else.
To leave, when needed, without conflict or drama.

— To stand up after falling.

— To do only what helps me develop the capacity
to find and preserve the inner states
in which it feels right for me to live.

Do you think this is egoism?

No.

Ego is precisely what gets in the way.
It tries to protect me from change.
It shields me with clumsy reasoning.
It frightens me with other people’s opinions,
with painful reactions, with failure.

In short, it slows me down
in every possible way.

It’s as immobile as an old stump —
its roots sunk deep in the swamp
of rigid ideas
about who it believes itself to be.

It wants to defeat others,
but never looks at itself.
Its only task is to preserve the image
it’s been building for years.

Such care.

I value something else.

To solve a problem
where the main condition
is one’s own rigid personality —
that is real work.

To turn my “Natasha” into a human being —
that is the task.

If this is your kind of work, stay connected.
Warmly,
Natasha

A friend says it calmly, almost with relief:
“If they hadn’t raised the retirement age, I’d already be retired by now.”

And I feel something rise inside me. Not aggression. More like a deep, physical resistance. A strong, almost bodily no.

Retired? Seriously?

We still have at least as much life ahead of us as we’ve already lived. And if you subtract the years we were basically on autopilot — school, kids, schedules, stress, crises, divorces, moves, living up to other people’s expectations — then what’s ahead isn’t the same amount. It’s almost double. But this time, conscious. With ourselves.

Our generation isn’t dying at 60 or 70. Forecasts suggest 78 to 82 for women, and by mid-century even higher. That’s 40 to 50 years of active, adult, fully alive life after 40 or 45 — after the main debts are paid, the masks dropped, the illusions lived through.

Only now can we finally pause and ask: who am I without the race? What’s left when the outer roles fall away? Where does all this energy go — the energy that used to be spent on surviving and proving ourselves?

Retirement? And then what?
Pet the cat, water the plants, binge shows?

That’s just another role — retiree. Only now without the excuse of “I have to.” It’s simply opting out.

On average, it takes three to five years to build one real project — one that actually holds up under the pressure of old patterns and gives your life meaning. Over the decades we still have, you could launch four or five of those. That’s more consciously lived years than we’ve had so far.

I’m not talking about success. I’m not saying work harder. I’m talking about the fragmented self finally coming together. Decades of tension turning into a quiet, steady force. Life after 40 or 50 isn’t the sunset. It’s the first time you get to live from deep, internal meaning — not for someone else.

No. In my mind there isn’t even a trace of retirement.
I’ve only just arrived inside myself.

The Expiration Date

In Russia, the retirement age for women used to be 55. That number shaped an entire mindset. You worked, you endured, and by your mid-fifties you were expected to step aside. To slow down. To fade into the background.

Maybe that’s why, when I hear conversations about retirement now, something in me resists.

And maybe that same resistance is connected to another question I once heard. One that carries the same subtext: your time is up.

There was a moment that stayed with me.

I went back to visit my parents and met an old school friend. When I mentioned that I had gotten divorced, he went quiet for a moment. Then he asked, “Are you not afraid?”

I honestly didn’t understand the question.
“Afraid of what?” I asked.
“Well… you’re 42. Aren’t you afraid of ending up alone?”

I remember just looking at him. In our culture there’s this unspoken rule: if you’re not married by 30, you’re already somehow written off. If you are married, you hold on, endure, don’t let go. Because after 40… where are you going to find someone? It’s supposed to mean permanent loneliness.

But I had lived in Europe for over 20 years. I didn’t carry that belief anymore — that after 30 or 40 you’re somehow discarded as a woman. That idea felt foreign to me.

What I did feel was something else entirely.

My whole life up to that point had been a race — survival, problem-solving, taking care of everyone, endless moves, constant adaptation, and the quiet hum of stress underneath it all.

And then the events of those last couple of years broke me completely. It wasn’t just a hard time. It was a collapse — the kind where you don’t just lose what you had, you lose the future you spent years building.

Everything turned to ash. Including my Natasha.

It wasn’t about one relationship ending. That was just one component. The whole structure had already collapsed. The entire engine had burned out.

So when he asked if I was afraid of ending up alone, it sounded misplaced. That distant, empty future he was pointing to already felt empty.

The real question was different: was I afraid of being alone right now?

And no — that was the only thing that didn’t scare me. Solitude, at that moment, wasn’t loss. It was space. It was oxygen. It was the only place something new could begin. I needed to step away and be alone long enough to understand how to rebuild my life.

Because I had no strength left. Not for other people. Not for outward effort. So being alone wasn’t a radical choice. It was the most natural step.

Eight years have passed. Looking back, I see it clearly now. Those years alone weren't a detour. They were the foundation of everything that followed.

I’m still going to build something...

If you feel this too — you’re welcome here. Let’s stay in touch.

— N.

“Alright. What do you need?”

“Give me money, health, and happiness!”

“Sure. But on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You do the work — I’ll provide the support.”

“But what should I do?”

“That’s up to you. It’s your life. You’re asking for help, and I’ll give it. Just tell me specifically: what do you need help with?”

“I told you! Money, health, and happiness!”

“If you want money, go to the people. I don’t print currency.”

“But where am I supposed to get it?”

“Trade something for it.”

“Trade what? I have nothing…”

“Oh, give me a break. You’re saying this to Me? Look at everything I gave you: a mind and a heart, feelings and energy, a face and a body… A single smile is enough to start earning a living!”

“I gave you a planet, people, food, and beauty — everything you need to be happy. I keep throwing opportunities your way. But you don’t take them. You don’t use them.”

“What do you mean I don’t take them?”

“Just that. You only spend what I gave you. And then you ask for help.”

“So what should I do?”

“Take it and use it. If you need help, ask. But be specific. Like I said: you do the work, and I’ll help you through it.”

“But what do I do? I don’t know.”

“That depends on what you want.”

“And what do I want?”

“How should I know?”

“Well, who knows?”

“You do. Think back to your last desire. You think I came up with that?”

“Hmm. But what about talent? I don’t have any talent…”

“What kind of talent do you want? Fine. You’ll wake up talented tomorrow. Then what?”

“Well… I don’t know how…”

“How what? Can you formulate even one specific question?”

“I can.”

“Good. Ask a specific question, put it into Google—and I’ll throw a dozen options your way. Pick the one that resonates with your soul.”

“How do I know which one that is?”

“Good Lord, just ask yourself: ‘Does this feel right to me, or not?’”

“But what about talent?”

“You have more than enough talent to create one good day in your life. You already have everything you need. Go on, start. Don’t be afraid. Otherwise, others will create YOUR life for you. And who knows what they’ll cook up while you’re sitting there, twiddling your thumbs.”

Work hard and develop your skills. Period.

“A man gifted with the seal of genius will give nothing — not even something mediocre — unless he works like a devil.” — P. I. Tchaikovsky

At what point does a person start feeling like a creator? Is it not for everyone? Do you need some special talent, a “super-brain,” or killer instincts?

And what about that part where humans are made “in His image”? Maybe they are. Maybe they aren’t.

For now, in this material world, we show up as best we can.

Of course, we could do more, be better.

But we manifest as we are.

To each according to their ability; to each according to their labor.

Or... Maybe I’m just mean?

Maybe the Lord would have answered quite differently?

Something like this: “Oh, of course! Everything is coming right up. Close your eyes… Now open them and go to the mirror.”

And there in the mirror — my God! — is a breathtaking beauty. Magazine-cover ready, no Photoshop needed.

You stand there, admiring yourself, when suddenly the doorbell rings. A delivery.

Inside the package: diamonds and bank checks with astronomical sums — all in your name.

Your phone suddenly comes to life, buzzing incessantly: relatives calling with great news, old friends reaching out, strangers with the loveliest messages…

Even that unrequited love sends a text out of the blue: “I can’t live without you. I’m dying to see you. When can we meet?..”

You look at all this magnificence and you’re amazed. Not so much by what’s happening around you, but by what’s happening inside.

Real miracles are unfolding there: ideas are pouring in one after another, your energy is through the roof, your entire inner world is flooded with inspiration… You suddenly want to do things, to bring those ideas to life.

Your mind is crystal clear. Your heart is perfectly still.

Now you know exactly what you want. You know you’re capable of anything. You know everything is, and will be, okay. Your fears have vanished, as if they were never there.

And it feels so warm... so serene…

A smile shines from within you.

A fairy tale, I know.

But really — what’s so “fairy-tale” about it?

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Related writings:
The Solution Is Here — I Just Didn’t Know How to Reach It
Porcelain People
Beauty and Viability

If this feels familiar
When You Know What to Do but Cannot Do It
(enter 2432026)

That truth is not what I have decided to think about myself, but what actually is — what I do all day long.

Year after year, more or less the same things…
And yet, I don’t see myself.

I think one thing, and then observe something else — with surprise.

When I see my face and body in the mirror, I think:
Oh… is that really me?

When I see myself in videos and photos, I think:
Oh… is that really me?

When I read what I have written, I think:
Oh… is that really me?

When I argue with someone — when I speak, react, express myself —
afterwards I think:
Oh… is that really me?

So, in general, I discover with surprise that there is a strong mismatch between self-perception and self-observation.

The latter — self-observation — is more impartial.

And self-perception (the part of me that already has a fixed opinion about who I am) — that’s where some error lives.

Why this self-deception?

What is the purpose of this gap between the mind and reality?

Related writings:
On The Blind Spot of Our Own Nature
Porcelain People
A Point That Does Not Tremble

If this feels familiar
When You Know What to Do but Cannot Do It
(enter 2432026)

For example: “I happened” = I “sluchilas”

I “sluchilas” in my space,
allowing myself to “sluchitsya.”
So what?
I don’t know.
Just watching…

In Russian, “sLUCHilas” comes from “LUCH” — a ray of light.
So it’s not just “I happened.” It’s more like: I appeared where rays met.
English doesn’t have that word. So I go with:

I happened in my space —
let myself happen.
So what?
I don’t know yet.
Just watching…

It’s not the same. Truth is, it’s a little sad — the rhyme is gone too. In the original, the lines actually rhyme… But it’s still honest. And maybe that’s what matters.

Я сЛУЧ

илась в своем Пространстве,
Допустив возможность сЛУЧиться…
Ну и как?
Я не знаю…
Пока наблюдаю…