years [Theme] Page 5

He waited through a thousand small, everyday worries; of course, he hit on women along the way, traveled, and finally earned a living. But in the meantime, his only concern was to stay ready. Get ready to act. A free and deliberate act that will determine his future life and become its beginning. He could never give himself completely to love, to pleasure, he was never really unhappy, it always seemed to him that he was somewhere else, that he had not yet been fully born. He waited. And during this time, quietly, stealthily crept up the years and grabbed him by the collar. Now he is thirty-four. “We should have started at twenty-five. Like Bruno. Yes, but then you start with an incomplete understanding of the essence. And as a result, you are fooled ... And I did not want to be fooled. He dreamed of going to Russia, dropping out of school, learning some craft. But each time, half a step before sharp turns, he was held back by a lack of sufficient reason. And without them, everything collapsed. And he kept waiting...

I experienced a great, unfamiliar happiness, an inexplicable state. How is happiness measured here? Ovations? You see, he got less applause than me. Let it burst. Nonsense! Empty shameful feeling. That happiness is cosmic, incomparable. Too bad I didn't have time to return. As a Soviet tourist during the years of the Iron Curtain. Nevertheless, he thanked the doctors for returning him. But, between us, as I saw the smoking chimney of the plant, I regretted that I had returned ...

The whole appearance of the ancestral castle, and even the wood and stone from which it was built, for many years gained a mysterious power over the soul of the owner.

It is an unusual feeling when you realize that you are a Gestalt therapist, you understand that you are relying on the developments of Perls and his associates, but what you are doing looks much different after years. I understood that gestalt therapy has changed over the years, but when watching the video, it is felt more acutely.

Years and months drag on for a long time, and a fussy person hurries himself. Heaven and Earth stretch wide, and the low man constrains himself. The seasons obey an immutable law, but a troublesome person does not cease to doubt and is in vanity all his life.

Leaning my back against the megalith, for some reason I remembered my first parting with a girl. I was then eighteen years old. And although I was ashamed to admit it, in those days I probably made all imaginable and inconceivable mistakes. He wrote hundreds of messages, sometimes calling her names, then persuading her to return. I called in the middle of the night. He stood with a bouquet of roses at the entrance door. He said that I would definitely change and fix everything. In general, complete darkness. Then years passed. I grew up, matured and realized that I behaved like a uniform rag and in fact, all this snot is bullshit. I am what I am. And owes nothing to anyone. I like it - good. I do not like it - the road is like a tablecloth. And if the girl left, then for me it means only one thing: she was eaten by the wolves.

Show me a person who enjoyed my high school days and I'll show you a bully and a bore.

- Like this? And the years below?

Park Miya

I walked at random - only years later I realized that this was the right path.

Why did I marry him, you ask? Out of fear. I was twenty-four then, and when you live in the provinces, years determine your fate.

And it's just gorgeous.

... He was well aware of cases when families reached such a degree of despair that they chose separation and slavery in exchange for a chance to survive. he knew all about the sale of allotments, when poor tenants were forced to leave the land that had belonged to their ancestors for several hundred years, about the dire poverty and hunger that reigned in the cities, about the unbearable life that ordinary Scots dragged out in those years. However, reading in books and seeing with your own eyes are completely different things.

A person devotes his life to something. Years pass, somewhere ... towards the end he wonders: was it worth it? But he has already given so much, to surrender means to cross out all the victims and instead, not daring to turn off after such a road, he goes the same way where he dies betraying himself.