Monthly Archives: August 2011

Carta de despedida (Gabriel García Márquez)

This is the farewell letter of genius Colombian writer Gabriel García Márquez. If you want to read it in English, follow this link. Below is the Spanish original.

“Si por un instante Dios se olvidara de que soy una marioneta de trapo y me regalara un trozo de vida, posiblemente no diría todo lo que pienso, pero en definitiva pensaría todo lo que digo.

Daría valor a las cosas, no por lo que valen, sino por lo que significan.

Dormiría poco, soñaría más, entiendo que por cada minuto que cerramos los ojos, perdemos sesenta segundos de luz. Andaría cuando los demás se detienen, despertaría cuando los demás duermen. Escucharía cuando los demás hablan y cómo disfrutaría de un buen helado de chocolate!

Si Dios me obsequiara un trozo de vida, vestiría sencillo, me tiraría de bruces al sol, dejando descubierto, no solamente mi cuerpo, sino mi alma.

Dios mío si yo tuviera un corazón, escribiría mi odio sobre el hielo, y esperaría a que saliera el sol. Pintaría con un sueño de Van Gogh sobre las estrellas un poema de Benedetti, y una canción de Serrat sería la serenata que le ofrecería a la luna. Regaría con mis lágrimas las rosas, para sentir el dolor de sus espinas, y el encarnado beso de sus pétalos…

Dios mío, si yo tuviera un trozo de vida… No dejaría pasar un sólo día sin decirle a la gente que quiero, que la quiero. Convencería a cada mujer u hombre que son mis favoritos y viviría enamorado del amor.

A los hombres les probaría cuán equivocados están al pensar que dejan de enamorarse cuando envejecen, sin saber que envejecen cuando dejan de enamorarse! A un niño le daría alas, pero le dejaría que él solo aprendiese a volar. A los viejos les enseñaría que la muerte no llega con la vejez, sino con el olvido. Tantas cosas he aprendido de ustedes, los hombres… He aprendido que todo el mundo quiere vivir en la cima de la montaña, sin saber que la verdadera felicidad está en la forma de subir la escarpada. He aprendido que cuando un recién nacido aprieta con su pequeño puño, por primera vez, el dedo de su padre, lo tiene atrapado por siempre.

He aprendido que un hombre sólo tiene derecho a mirar a otro hacia abajo, cuando ha de ayudarle a levantarse. Son tantas cosas las que he podido aprender de ustedes, pero realmente de mucho no habrán de servir, porque cuando me guarden dentro de esa maleta, infelizmente me estaré muriendo.

Siempre di lo que sientes y haz lo que piensas. Si supiera que hoy fuera la última vez que te voy a ver dormir, te abrazaría fuertemente y rezaría al Señor para poder ser el guardián de tu alma. Si supiera que esta fuera la última vez que te vea salir por la puerta, te daría un abrazo, un0 beso y te llamaría de nuevo para darte más. Si supiera que esta fuera la última vez que voy a oír tu voz, grabaría cada una de tus palabras para poder oírlas una y otra vez indefinidamente. Si supiera que estos son los últimos minutos que te veo diría “te quiero” y no asumiría, tontamente, que ya lo sabes.

Siempre hay un mañana y la vida nos da otra oportunidad para hacer las cosas bien, pero por si me equivoco y hoy es todo lo que nos queda, me gustaría decirte cuanto te quiero, que nunca te olvidaré.

El mañana no le está asegurado a nadie, joven o viejo. Hoy puede ser la última vez que veas a los que amas. Por eso no esperes más, hazlo hoy, ya que si el mañana nunca llega, seguramente lamentarás el día que no tomaste tiempo para una sonrisa, un abrazo, un beso y que estuviste muy ocupado para concederles un último deseo. Mantén a los que amas cerca de ti, diles al oído lo mucho que los necesitas, quiérelos y trátalos bien, toma tiempo para decirles “lo siento”, “perdóname”, “por favor”, “gracias” y todas las palabras de amor que conoces.

Nadie te recordará por tus pensamientos secretos. Pide al Señor la fuerza y sabiduría para expresarlos. Demuestra a tus amigos cuanto te importan.”

Always being right

Have you ever faced the problem of not being recognized as a sensible human being by your parents? Lucky, if you haven’t.

Generally, I would distinguish 2 types of parents: 1) those who embrace their offsprings with tender-loving care and don’t weaken it throughout their lives (further referred to as “octopuses”); 2) the ones who hardly care about what their child is doing at all (further referred to as “cuckoos”). The golden middle—those who guide but not limit, discuss but not insist, suggest but not command—is so rare…

Let’s look closer at the extremes. Octopuses are hard to accept their errors. They believe age makes them infallible. I see the roots of such behavior in the fact that an adult can hardly ever admit that they know very little of life, that they know even less about current state of affairs in life, that they know less then their children, and eventually that they may be wrong. Can you imagine senior person admitting their mistakes in front of a child? They’ll prefer lying to doing this. The same is true in education. Why do you think hundreds of sensational findings and advances in science are considered heretical? Well… how big are the chances that a person, who devoted his entire life to proving, supporting and contributing to some hypothesis/theory, will turn his back to it and adhere to some green (thus unapproved) idea? Same age and authority problems as inside a family.

What surprises octopuses is how children brought up by them can have different views on things than them, or how can their views change in the course of life. A vivid example is a child, fed with whatever parents consider appropriate (be it hamburgers, meat, fish etc.), deciding to stick to vegetarian lifestyle. No sense to try and explain the octopuses the benefits of it—you’ll always remain unheard, meaning wrong. Cuckoos in this case would probably say “Do what you want” and distance themselves, which is a better outcome for children. But what adolescents really appreciate is acknowledgement of their thoughts and standpoints, respect and support of any start-ups they may dive into (except obvious insanity), simultaneous empathy and freedom. Cuckoos will easily give you freedom but not the other components. Octopuses will give only empathy, but too much of it. Not so good.

What’s the way out? I’ve found three: 1) rebel; 2) indulge; or 3) pretend you 2) but actually 1).

It’s impossible to overestimate the influence of parents’ presence in children’s lives. At an early age it constitutes nearly 100%. But it should definitely reduce with time. Otherwise, parents will live their children’s lives instead of children. And that is true crime. No-one is allowed to take away the life from the person neither literally, nor figuratively.

Don’t use children to realize your dreams, compensate your complexes or feel strength and power.

Wise is the adult who can perceive younger person as equal. And unique. Be wise adults for your children – they depend on you so much!

What fairy-tales teach us

Reading a text about British teenage- and 20-something millionaires (which are many) I suddenly understood that I was unable to find a single example of these (millionaires) in our country (Ukraine). And I believe the situation is not much different in other ex-USSR countries.

Why is it like this? Funnily enough, because of our fairy-tales! Why do lucky not worthy succeed in them? One of the classic examples is Ivan, who was lying on the stove and doing nothing, and once upon a time he incidentally caught a magic pike which could make wishes come true. In what way did he deserve it? Isn’t it dangerous to give power to weak-willed stupid (that is how the tale call him, I don’t mean to offend anyone) person? Will he ever decide to do something by himself after such case? I’m afraid the only conclusion he can come to is that welfare is not dependent on how hard-working you are and what education you have.

As for education… Can you see the difference between “I wanna be a manager” and “I wanna become a manager”? Doesn’t it appear to you that “become” implies more effort while “be” sounds like waiting for a miraculous transformation? I think it’s the “be” version I tend to hear. Which is a logical confirmation of the previous passage.

Well, to be honest, it’s not only fairy-tales that influence us, it’s also parents with their excessive care who don’t let their offsprings live their own lives and do their own mistakes.

When graduate students come to the English language school I work in with their moms I fail to find an explanation for this. I understand that it’s parents who will pay for the course but anyway why don’t they believe that their 21-year-old “child” can’t think for himself, analyze and make decisions? Maybe because subconsciously they realize they’ve never gave him/her a chance? Even if they do realize it, that doesn’t stop them from persisting their way.

Could this ever happen in the UK or US? Highly unlikely! Youngsters there try to obtain independence as early as possible – 16 being an average figure. Some may argue that it’s easier for young people to survive (find a living, a place to work, etc.) in developed countries. I won’t contradict as this makes sense to some extent. But the fact is that you will never hear Slavonic adolescents talking to their parents about living separately (even on terms of partial sponsorship from the parents). Why? From the parents’ side it’s easier to control how well their chicks eat, do they wear warm clothes, whether they drink/smoke etc. From the chicks’ side it’s warm and tasty under the mom’s wing; they are careless as all their needs are satisfied by “magic pikes”. Unfortunately, parents are seen only as food and goods suppliers, not friends or people to confide in. It’s a pity that such selfishness goes unpunished, though showing to those ungrateful exploiters what independent life is would be the greatest lesson in their lifetime.

Greenhouse conditions do good to nobody. Tempered characters, confident, self-contained personalities do better whether they will work for someone, or (particularly!) opt for self-employment.

P.S. Their future wives will also be thankful for such Men, ’cause they like men not boys after all.

Views of the Southern shore of Crimea

This July I has been spending my vacations in Crimea, Simeiz town. We’ve also done quite a lot of travelling around the area and I want to share some pictures of the places we’ve been to with you.

6a.m. Cat mount and Diva rock at sunrise
View of Simeiz from the top of Cat mount
View of Simeiz and Diva rock
Alupka beach
Vorontsovskiy park
Swallow's nest palace
Close to Yalta
View from Swallow's nest
Mount Ai-Petri
Wine house near Massandra winery
Massandra winery main building
Aya Cape
Laspi Harbor
A cat
Squirrel eating plums outside our room window
Crab sunbathing
The light spot
Sunset limited

If tomorrow never comes…

(inspired by yet another explosion in the Ukrainian coal mine that brought 26 victims so far…)

Have you ever tried to imagine living in a state of constant fear of losing your family… Can you imagine how awful it is to say “Good bye” seeing your husband to the door and pray for it not to be the last one. Of course you may argue that every person’s life can terminate abruptly and unexpectedly, but let’s not mix up things. We are all mortal, but very few of us conscientiously challenge this mortality every now and then. What urges people to choose such a harsh way? Why not be an office clerk or a teacher? Why create a family? Why make children? Don’t they understand how much pain they can spill on the loved ones at any moment? But… looking from the other side… Why do women agree to couple with these heroes? Do they lack the survival instinct or don’t they need this inner feeling of safety sub-conscientiously sought by any mother? How optimistic, or how carefree, or how faithful, or how insane these women must be!..

We live in the world of choices and accidents. Value you life. Value people around you. You could have met them accidentally, but now it’s you, not accident that is responsible for not losing them.

Father Forgets (by W. Livingston Larned)

I came across this “speech” while reading Dale Carnegie’s How to Win Friends and Influence People book. It’s really impressive as these sincere and simple words make you review your attitude to children, make you see something obvious yet difficult to stick to.

Listen, son: I am saying this as you lie asleep, one little paw crumpled under your cheek and the blond curls stickily wet on your damp forehead. I have stolen into your room alone. Just a few minutes ago, as I sat reading my paper in the library, a stifling wave of remorse swept over me. Guiltily I came to your bedside.

There are the things I was thinking, son: I had been cross to you. I scolded you as you were dressing for school because you gave your face merely a dab with a towel. I took you to task for not cleaning your shoes. I called out angrily when you threw some of your things on the floor.

At breakfast I found fault, too. You spilled things. You gulped down your food. You put your elbows on the table. You spread butter too thick on your bread. And as you started off to play and I made for my train, you turned and waved a hand and called, ‘Goodbye, Daddy!’ and I frowned, and said in reply, ‘Hold your shoulders back!’

Then it began all over again in the late afternoon. As I came up the road I spied you, down on your knees, playing marbles. There were holes in your stockings. I humiliated you before your boyfriends by marching you ahead of me to the house. Stockings were expensive – and if you had to buy them you would be more careful! Imagine that, son, from a father!

Do you remember, later, when I was reading in the library, how you came in timidly, with a sort of hurt look in your eyes? When I glanced up over my paper, impatient at the interruption, you hesitated at the door. ‘What is it you want?’ I snapped.You said nothing, but ran across in one tempestuous plunge, and threw your arms around my neck and kissed me, and your small arms tightened with an affection that God had set blooming in your heart and which even neglect could not wither. And then you were gone, pattering up the stairs.

Well, son, it was shortly afterwards that my paper slipped from my hands and a terrible sickening fear came over me. What has habit been doing to me? The habit of finding fault, of reprimanding – this was my reward to you for being a boy. It was not that I did not love you; it was that I expected too much of youth. I was measuring you by the yardstick of my own years.

And there was so much that was good and fine and true in your character. The little heart of you was as big as the dawn itself over the wide hills. This was shown by your spontaneous impulse to rush in and kiss me good night. Nothing else matters tonight, son. I have come to your bedside in the darkness, and I have knelt there, ashamed!

It is a feeble atonement; I know you would not understand these things if I told them to you during your waking hours. But tomorrow I will be a real daddy! I will chum with you, and suffer when you suffer, and laugh when you laugh. I will bite my tongue when impatient words come. I will keep saying as if it were a ritual: ‘He is nothing but a boy – a little boy!’

I am afraid I have visualized you as a man. Yet as I see you now, son, crumpled and weary in your cot, I see that you are still a baby. Yesterday you were in your mother’s arms, your head on her shoulder. I have asked too much, too much.

(Russian version)