How not to miss Life .... Psychology of women, men and children. Stories, tips, stories and more.

Where are we in a hurry? How not to miss Life ...

Slowness, serenity and for a deep tranquility of the scene was very different from the usual, frantic pace of life.

How not to miss Life ...

As it usually happens in the morning, I like mad headin a hurry to work. Deftly maneuvering between the puddles, hurriedly crossed the Yard site. Suddenly, peripheral vision, I saw an unusual picture that made me stop. In the rays of sunlight breaks through the green crowns of the trees, he stood an old man feeding pigeons and peaceful.

Slowness, serenity and some deepthe tranquility of the scene was very different from the usual, frantic pace of life. I carefully went over and said hello. This meeting shed light on the knowledge of many disturbing my thoughts ...

Every morning, if health permits, and has weather, Boris Stepanovich Lashevich goes for milk and on the way stopped to feed the pigeons. He was born in the Kiev region April 21, 1921.

- How I survived - sighs and my new acquaintance begins its leisurely story ...
- In childhood and adolescence was not until the pigeons, work andwork, so much more ... I remember collectivization - all collected in the collective farms. My father was a bit of their land to the farm to go, he did not want to. Taxes choked, but still not forced to go to the farm. In 1932-1933 famine was (pigeons fluttered and went back to the ground). People were dying, dying from hunger. My uncle remained bottle with peas, and he put it in a beehive. Came Brigade "activists", found and took away the last peas. Uncle died. Like this. Horror was just awful. Last deprived bag of grain. They come into the house, and hammering, pick, seek and take everything. They said the "kulaks" surplus take - poor people took away the last crumbs, leaving to die of starvation. What injustice have seen ...

Boris Stepanovich's voice trembled, his hand wiped away a tear. Pigeons, as if to interrupt the sad memories, cooing at his feet.
- In 1936, we, Poles, Stalin tore offtheir homes, loaded into wagons and brought here in Kazakhstan. I was then 15 years old. Not yet had time to settle down in a new place, as in 1941, the war began. On the front is not taken, they were left "on the reservation." He worked in agriculture, was an assistant foreman tractor brigade, worked from dawn to dusk. War is over. I worked for some time in the countryside (Kellerovskom lived in the area), I decided that I could do other, more complex work, and in 1958 moved to the city of Kokshetau. Prior to retirement he worked for the repair of electrical equipment, anchors shook on separators, vacuum cleaners. The automatic hoisting devices are well understood.

For the eighteenth year as the wife died - cancerlight, - sighed Boris Stepanovich. Now I live alone, my sister helps almost every day comes and brother. Daughter in Germany, often calling and writing. The second year the doctors diagnosed me "colon cancer". In oncology hospital already want nothing to do. Said - live, as will live. Himself fly, I support a variety of therapeutic agents. Here is the weather, if I can, Narva medical marijuana. I do not consider myself the poor: and receive a pension, and stock in the savings bank is, a lot of time, and there is no health - and there is no life. And pigeons ... in their life. You, young man, I wish you health and peace.

By parting the chirping of birds, I went our separate ways ...My step slowed down, I went and watched the world around: admiring the sun, inhaling the fresh morning air, slightly damp after overnight rain. I noticed that in the puddles, which recently have been obstacles, the sky is reflected for me. Hearing caressed bird voices. In those moments I was indifferent, if I'd have time to come to work, anxiety disappeared, peace settled in my heart. Change the mood, I changed the thinking of ...

Often we go through life as ifWe are going to live forever. We live as if we write a draft of school essays, hoping that somewhere out there, in front, we are waiting for another better life. In the bustle of everyday life sometimes we do not notice and do not appreciate all the beauty that we have today. We appreciate the freedom to choose whether we - where we live? We appreciate the opportunity to choose whether - what business to devote himself? We appreciate if we are what we eat bread and we did not get to experience what hunger is? Do we have time to give a smile and attention to your loved one? Do we see our children grow up? How do we relate to our health? whether of their parents do not forget? Where do we run? Maybe it's time to stop and think - so I live?

She remembered thinking Leacock: "I am surprised how we manage life. As soon learned to speak, the baby babbles: "When
I'm a big boy ... "And then what? Big boy dreams: "That's when I grow up ..." Adult constantly saying: "When I get married." But when he marries, his attitude to life does not change. Now he starts to go on about how he will retire. Finally, comes the desired day, he will retire and what happens? Looking back, he sees only the barren land, over which pass the cold winds - and nothing living around. He realizes that he did not have any life, he walked past her, and now you will not change anything. Too late we realize that the meaning of life - to live it, enjoying every day and who gives us the hour. "

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