Love is the beginning of all tragedy. Love is the beginning of all wonder.
I believe it all started with love. I still remember the childhood moment of my first encounter with the English language. I was fascinated by Russian – I was a linguistically inquisitive child, but encountering English just for a second there set me on fire. I believe it was my first experience of the powerful energy that keeps me alive, that makes me alive now. It was a book that I found. A book in English, in our cramped little home – a book that obviously strayed out of the toe line. I loved it. It was illustrated. The words were meaningless symbols, but the way they spread, curved on the whiteness of the page, made me think: I want to be able to do that. I want to be able to know that.
To move things forward, I had my school experience followed by university which was the first time I tasted the flavor of opportunity. It was my first engagement with a city. Living in an organism of many minds. Feelings, energies and ideas. The conglomeration of possibilities. It was an overwhelming situation for me to be in, and still I can’t stay in a Russian city, works fine for London, though.
But it was in the city that the movement started. It was an intellectual movement paired with an emotional hell and high weather on top of a fireball. The advantage and ultimate pull of a city for me – the electrified field of possibilities due to the minds and hearts connecting, intensely.
Connection – the fabric of humaneness.
The city was the perfect soil in which to dream and run after my dreams. The city was the worst place to breathe. And breath for me is the sea air in my throat and chest, on my tongue. The sea.
After living in cities and working in language schools, and sometimes just being lost in the multitude of directions that all came to naught, that all led to depression, I made the decision to develop myself as a teacher, and so I started taking courses. After that, I moved to the sea and lived there working with online clients, all of them – most fascinating people with stories. With humor. It’s the smile that I loved about my work. The smile between us. It’s the flowing of goodwill between two people. The emotion that would tip into love and sometimes drown there.
To be with people is a powerful skill. I would say it is the most natural element to live in, but it’s not the norm right now. The norm right now is the mask. But that is gradually changing. It takes guts, it takes hugeness, it takes resolution to move in the direction of complete love. Complete love means disposing of all layers. Trusting that breaking process of your old selves. Teetering on the brink of being broken. Feeling the breaking glass of your old age and being born again. And then again. I mean, love is hard, in this case of mine.
Before I was engaged into serious teaching work, I was a comper. What I did was love competitions. I think it was the result of my first English competition which pushed me on the plane to England which gave me the idea that competitions were the road to success. I loved them but then they fell by the wayside. My focus narrowed in on creative work that would not be assessed…
What competitions gave me though, was that, when I would be the winner or close to it, I would judge myself as “good enough”. This kind of judgment felt new and felt nice. To say nothing of feeling seen. Seen by a panel, somewhere.
Before online work, I participated in Toastmasters, which was in Moscow. The city of my dreams. (Nightmares?)
The more I think of it though, the more I realize I loved Moscow. With all the imperfections that occurred there, all the blemishes of my visit. I loved it there. ( Can you love something with fierce hate?)
Now my blog and developing of my creativity and being with people…with humans…human being, is my first thing, is my love thing, is the thing that breaks.
Life is like that, I think. It’s cheek by jowl pleasure and pain.