And then, above all this chaos, a cacophony of relentless noises, something wonderful came and brought peace. It happened back in the past; it happens right now. Christmas descended as quietly as snow falls down. It covered all existing, filled hearts with consideration to each other, with kindness, and compassionate sacrifice. From a house to a house, a light spread, as if every neighbour in a somewhat of a pattern placed candles on the window, and turned on the lanterns in the garden. In the middle of what was called a plague, a devastating event, one day once again brought a reminder of God’s fulfilled promises, once again planted hope, and once again promised peace on Earth.
At what exact point in life, one finds himself at the place where, while criticism matters, it, however, plays no significant role, and has not been taken close to the heart? Perhaps, it is nowhere. Perhaps, sometime at the age when one no longer remembers how exactly it felt when numerous events caused such oppressive pain.
My quietness can be explained.
If the last year, around the same time, I have decided to take a break from social media, the break that lasted for over six months, this year, I was not planning on staying mute for weeks. Yet, the series of unpredictable events often suggest their own scenario, and all one can do is step back, take a break and reconsider the further steps. While I sit tonight alone in my kitchen, surrounded by birthday flowers, I think of the last few events and how much they altered my idea of celebrating this day, wishing for a peaceful, quiet atmosphere.
If the last year, around the same time, I have decided to take a break from social media, the break that lasted for over six months, this year, I was not planning on staying mute for weeks. Yet, the series of unpredictable events often suggest their own scenario, and all one can do is step back, take a break and reconsider the further steps. While I sit tonight alone in my kitchen, surrounded by birthday flowers, I think of the last few events and how much they altered my idea of celebrating this day, wishing for a peaceful, quiet atmosphere.
This autumn has been the utmost delightful. It was motionless, serene. As if the wind was paralyzed by the way sun rays penetrate through the crowns of poplars, it bothered no leaves; it touched none. This year autumn did not hurry; the whole appearance was of satisfaction of its elongated existence. Leaf foliage rotted gradually. Geese on the pond resembled in laziness that was not alarmed by an unexpected blizzard from the mountains. And, the spider web, illuminating under the afternoon light, gilded just like a line in a boy's hands who is learning to fly fishing. I could observe it, finally, with no intrusive feeling that much of those delights shall be over sooner than wanted.