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A singing bowl story

June 21, 2021
In 2007, I heard the sound of a singing bowl for the first time. Although it felt like this sound was squeezing my heart, a sense of well being penetrated my whole essence. It felt like I was being blessed by some higher intelligence. Shortly after this, I purchased a bowl for my wife and me.
We didn't know what to do with the sound bowl, besides striking it and listening, but there was something about that sound. The bowl was sitting on a decorative cushion, which rested on a coffee table and we couldn't pass by it, without taking the stick and playing the bowl for at least a couple moments. The bowl was receiving so much attention as if it were a member of our small family.
Like a normal couple we had our ups and downs, but every time the bowl made a sound, the atmosphere at home would change for the better, also a more peaceful state of mind was created. 
Back then, I was practicing meditation and was reading a lot about the influence of sound on mental, emotional and physical health. I was looking for some art to occupy myself with and knew that it would be related to sound therapy. The field of “sound healing” triggered my attention. 
Most of the information I found on the internet and books just made me skeptical. I couldn't accept for example that the notes of the modern Western musical scale somehow are related to chakras. Also, having a degree in mechanical engineering, I had a hard time believing that singing bowls are made of seven metals such as mercury, lead, and copper that have such a huge gap in melting temperatures. Even if that was true, why for God's sake people would use poisonous metals for healing? I had so many questions and there was no one around to give me the answers. I purchased a few more singing bowls and was running my experiments. The knowledge started to flow towards me straight from the source - my instruments!
At this time, heavy arguments began to occur between my wife and me almost every day. Our relationship became very heavy on both of us and we decided to provide space to each other. Two months later my wife flew to Nepal. She was planning to take the hiking trail to Everest Base Camp. On August 24th, 2010, the plane she boarded with 13 other people departed from Kathmandu to the village Lukla and it never landed.
She died in an airplane crash on her 30th birthday and my heart died on the same day.
The emotional trauma I experienced couldn't be described and It isn’t my intention to focus on these dark times.
Many days passed until I pulled out one of the singing bowls from my collection again. The sounds were reminding me of the times spent with my little family and this was causing me a lot of pain. I temporarily moved away from my passion for singing bowls.
Months later after the accident, I pulled out the same sound bowl my wife and I used to play together. All of a sudden, I noticed that this bowl had a very interesting character. Once struck, the melancholic sound of a time that will never come back was flooding the room up to the ceiling. My mind was stolen by this fluctuating sad tone. Listening to this singing bowl was just painful. However, something had shifted inside of my chest and the moment of instant healing took place!
I noticed a subtle overtone that I had never paid attention to before. It was the sound of pure joy! It was a ray of sun, so pure and delightful! I asked myself, why was I choosing to listen to the melancholic tone if there is something so delicious about this other tone showing up at the same time?!          
That evening I stroke the bowl countless times. I remember myself listening and smiling. I was smiling and skipping a heartbeat each time the sonic serpent was showing up and pulling my sadness from the chest away to the void. It felt like some sacred knowledge is being unveiled to me. Something that can't be told, but can be heard. 
Since then, the meaning of the words "happiness is a choice" became clear to me. I started to practice listening to and choosing my mood, my thoughts, my emotions, my judgments, my reality. I became hungry for life, adventures and new experiences! I decided to take my life back.
A couple of years later, overcoming my fear, I visited Nepal and Tibet. While in Nepal, I did the Everest Base Camp trail hike. It was an act of closure on my past and the beginning of the next chapter of my life.
I also made a very interesting and fruitful connection with the local singing bowls authorities. I learned so much during this time! For a few weeks, I was spending ten to twelve hours each day, testing thousands of singing bowls in the house of the biggest collector in Nepal. I finally walked away, having made my first big purchase of 56 “Stradivarius” singing bowls.
In Tibet, I intended to visit the holy mountain Kailas, but the Chinese government blocked the way to the foreigners for a month. Instead of doing a Cora around Kailas, I joined a small group of tourists going to Central Tibet to visit five caves of Guru Rinpoche (Padmasambhava). We also visited lots of Buddhist monasteries, some of them had never seen tourists before. Surprisingly, none of these monasteries were equipped with Tibetan singing bowls. I learned about the ceremonial usage of Tingshas (small flat round bronze bells) and gongs, but I was so unsatisfied, seeing no Tibetan bowls in Tibet. A part of me was still hoping to see the Buddhist monks do some practice using the singing bowl, besides collecting donations in them.
At some point along the way, I met an old monk who was playing a  singing bowl. I asked the guide to come with me to talk to the elder. I asked the monk what exactly is he doing with the bowl? The guide translated my question and the elder struck the bowl with a wooden stick and smiled. I noticed that he was missing a couple of teeth, but I didn't care, I just waited with childish excitement for the explanation. The explanation didn't come. The monk just struck his singing bowl again and smiled like a mischievous child. I asked my guide to translate the question, how exactly does the monk use singing bowl? Is he just collecting donations with it, or is he using it for a specific ritual? Does he meditate using the sound? Or maybe he is cleansing his space? Maybe he is doing some sound healing work? The guide understood my point and patiently translated the request. The answer of the elder was one word only, which was translated into English as "listen"!
Yes, I said, I know the sound of the singing bowl, I have a collection of these at home. I am a certified sound healer! I have a sound healing master-level certification! Could you please ask him how he uses the singing bowl? After talking for a while with the monk, my guide looked at me and simply said, “he just told you: - listen!” The monk struck the bowl again as if to emphasize what I just heard from the translator. He then smiled and said in Tibetan the word that I now knew the translation of.
No kidding, it was a great teaching for me! Listen!
When I came back home, I found new qualities in my instruments. After meeting the monk, I was inspired to become an even better listener to my clients and most importantly, to myself and the life around!
I now listen to my body and soul more carefully. I listen to the universe. I am focused on listening, thanks to that short, yet profound meeting with the monk.
Himalayan singing bowls brought so many profound lessons into my life, so many beautiful people, new life and new love. I facilitate sound meditation events at least once a week and I am still excited every time I prepare for the new event.
When I facilitate group sound meditations (what people are usually referring to as a sound bath), I play very gently and quietly. I make long pauses and allow the meditators to quiet their minds and to listen to their inner silence.
By sitting quietly, and allowing yourself to be without any opinions of who or what you are, or how the world should be, by just breathing carefully, without disturbing the harmony around, you will hear the universal love. By just listening to the silence between your thoughts, you realize that love has always been there, like the sky. This is the most important part of meditation and sound healing for me.

SKY complex obtained a new life

August 23, 2015

After  2015 earthquake this  Complex, including Irisha's Library, is temporary became the school instead of the destroyed local school. This gave local children ability to continue their education in addition to the help in food and medications

Irina Shekhets memorial Library

August 23, 2015

This is the site of the tragedy that happened on August 24, 2010. Now, Thanks to the ISMSF Foundation and SKY Foundation the complex of public buildings is created there, including Temple, School, Library, Medical Center and Guest House.

Ей нужен космос

March 18, 2015

Irisha, I heard this song (live!) and right away thought of you. Alina Simonova is a magical singer/song writer. I had a pleasure of long and meaningful conversation with her... she is also an amazing person who, unbelievably, is so much like you!  
Just wow. Thank you Alina!

August 24, 2013

Наша любимая девочка! С днем твоего прихода и твоего ухода! И ничего тебе уже нельзя пожелать. Можно пожелать только нам - помнить и любить тебя. Ты всегда с нами!

Ириша, сегодня - твой День...

August 24, 2013


Наступает 24 Августа  -  твой день.
Уже третий раз в этот день у нас две даты - и обе твои...
Три года ты не с нами - и все так же с нами каждый день...
Мы, как и раньше, собираемся вместе в этот день - семья и друзья, и мы знаем и чувствуем тебя рядом.

С днем Рождения, наша родная Ириша!

Мама, Папа

С Днём Рождения, родная!

August 24, 2012

Ирушечка, С Днём Рождения!
Уже два года ты приходишь ко мне только во сне... А наяву ты посылаешь знаки о себе.  Недавно я перебирала твои книги. Томик Пастернака открылся на заложенной ещё тобою странице:

"Ты появишься у двери
В чем-то белом, без причуд
В чем-то впрямь из тех материй
Из которых хлопья шьют...."

Как-будто ты захотела мне напомнить, как ты так же  приходила ко мне во сне - во всем белом...
Спасибо, что ты даёшь мне знать о себе. Боль затихает только тогда, когда я вижу тебя...Хотя бы во сне...
С Днём Рождения, родная!

24 Августа 2012 года…

August 24, 2012

Ириша, говорим себе, тоскуя и любя -
Ты здесь, ты рядышком, хоть поднята высоко,
И тех, кто любит, помнит и в душе несет тебя -
Ты охраняешь их до самого до срока. 

Метущейся  души твоей  неугасимый Свет
Надежде гибнуть не давал в конце туннеля.
Мы знали, что твоим делам предела нет
Была ты рядом - и  душою все теплели.

Ты вся была как весточка из дальних палестин -
Неведомых  краёв другого измеренья.
И мир твой был так целостен, так ясен и един,
Была ты как гонец грядущих поколений…

Своё сердечко жаркое протягивая нам,
Ты сберегала нас  от нас самих порою.
И на пределе сил, сквозь слёзы строя Храм,
Спасала Мир - Любовью...и Собою!

Иришка, НАША ЗВЁЗДОЧКА, теперь в иных краях
Из Круга Света в сверх-орбитном Измеренье,
Ты светишь каждому, кто так любил тебя,
И кто с тобой сейчас
                           в твой ВЕЧНЫЙ ДЕНЬ РОЖДЕНЬЯ
                                                                                  Мама и Папа

August 17, 2012


13 мар 2008     Ирина Shekhets   03:43

Dobroe utro/den'/vecher!

Kak otlichno chto my vse postepenno nahodimsya! Kak pogoda v Kieve? My s Genoj dumaem mozhet poehat' v Odessu letom (Genka odessit) - kak priyatno bylo-by v Kiev tozhe zaehat'...

Mama govorit chto vy chasto byvaete v Amerike - obyazatel'no zaezhajte k nam! Ot mamy bol'shoj privet - oni sejchas s papoj sobiraiutsya vo Floridu na otdyh...


A znaete chto ya pomniu yasnee vsego pro vas? Kak vy priehali k nam domoj s ocherednoj komandirovki, i privezli mne samye krasivye, materchatye, v kletochku tufel'ki na kabluchke! eto byli moi liubimye tufel'ki - ya tak ne hotela ih pererostat'! Spasibo vam  


Privet Pol'ke, i vsem vsem vsem!


Pishite pozhalujsta - rasskazhite kak u vas dela, chem zanimaetes', kogda priedete!




Это было ее первое и последнее письмо .... 

August 25, 2011

Мой любимый человечек. Прошёл год с тех пор, как твоё желание взойти на Эверест манифестировалось в вознесение над всем миром. Многое произошло за этот год, но боль и кошмар, которые впитали в себя мы - твои близкие, едва ли проходят. Это мутная, горькая жидкость заполняет наши души до краёв. Мы всё так же находимся в неведении и темноте, игнорируя желание проникнуться хоть на одну короткую мысль в планы Всевышнего. Мы всё так же эгоцентрично цепляемся за столь ненавистную, но уже присосавшуюся, и ставшую неразделимой от нас  боль потери. Мы лелеем эту боль, как самое ценное, что есть в нашей жизни. Боль, которая делает нас "особенными" и по глотку, каждый день выпивает наши жизненные силы.                                                      

Говорят, что страдания очищают душу, но происходит это лишь тогда, когда сам человек намеренно стремится к тому, чтоб стать чище, добрее и открыться закону вселенной - закону безграничной любви. Если же человек не видит этого закона, укрывается от него личной обидой - он на всегда может застрять в страданиях, и каждый день становиться всё слабее и слабее.                                         

Здесь, на этих страницах, мы делимся нашими мыслями и чувствами. Эти страницы, созданы для того, чтоб мы могли высказаться и понять, что у всех нас, заглянувших сюда есть нечто общее. Эти страницы помогают нам пережить страх одиночества, страх потери. И ты, мой любимый человечек - уже знаешь больше нас всех вместе взятых. Я верю, что ты слышишь наши мысли и как прежде влияешь на наши судьбы. Ты здесь и я делюсь с тобой, и со всеми, кто читает эти строки.                                                                                                                                                                                       

Месяца через два после того, как прозвучал этот роковой звонок из посольства в Катманду, примерно в то же тёмное время суток мне приснился сон. В этом сне я столкнулся с Великой Пустотой. Я уже неоднократно представлял себе Великую Пустоту и она не страшила меня в моём воображении, но это был ужаснейший сон в моей жизни, и, как я понимаю теперь - самый мудрый. Я даже не могу сказать, что видел этот сон, потому, как в нём отсутствовали какие либо имиджи. Не было ни меня, ни точки опоры, ни ощущения температуры, ни звуков, ни запахов - ничего, кроме ужасной безграничной темноты. Я вскочил с постели и уже окончательно проснулся услышав от себя слова "не за что зацепиться".                                                                                                    

Я потерял любимого человека, вскоре потерял работу и был вынужден несколько раз менять место жительства. Мои страхи и боль нарастали.                                                                                       

Мы пережили самую тёмную, холодную и долгую зиму. Прошла весна, уходит лето и это наш выбор, оставаться ли нам в замурованном доме, в щели которого ни просочиться ни одному лучику света, где не слышно птичьего пения, где не пахнет жизнью. Последний год, я живу с полным пониманием той фразы, которая вырвалась у меня после кошмарного сна. В этой жизни - нам не за что зацепиться кроме ЛЮБВИ! Любовь - свет, точка опоры, она - тот самый иногда недостающий инструмент, при помощи которого мы можем всего лишь прикоснуться, как кисточкой к своей боли и приумножить любовь. Каждый день, в который мы произносим слова любви будь то по отношению к нашим близким, природе, жизни, себе - это день света, день счастья. Каждый миг, в который мы позволяем горечи и страхам овладеть нами - это вечность тьмы. Любимые нами люди никуда не исчезают и это наш выбор - замуровывать их в холодные стены страхов, горечи, тоски и боли или позволять им любоваться миром полным любви нашими глазами. Наш материальный мир даёт нам возможность усвоить один очень серьёзный урок - скатиться всегда легче, чем подняться. Погубить себя проще, чем превзойти возникшие на пути трудности. Быть счастливым не так уж просто. Только для того, чтоб позволить себе быть счастливым нужно уже тяжело поработать. Речь не идёт о позитивном мышлении. Восприятие всего в "розовом" свете приводит к разрыву человека от окружающей реальности. Но нужно прислушаться к себе, каков будет ваш ответ на вопрос: "Хочу ли я оставаться в этой деструктивной прогрессии"? Нужно ТРЕНИРОВАТЬ свой разум, разворачивать его от программы самоуничтожения.                                                                                                                                                                       

Здесь - на этих страницах мы порой не замечаем, как строим для себя идолов, наделяя их приукрашенными качествами, но одно я знаю точно - Ирка умеет Любить! Она умеет преодолевать тьму, и я никогда не видел её падающей. Я люблю эту душу, я ценю моменты, которые подарила мне судьба, моменты общения с этим мудрым учителем. Я ценю приобретённый опыт. Мне не легко об этом говорить, но я люблю свою жизнь и пишу об этом здесь лишь потому, что так хочу, чтобы любовь к жизни и послужила бы тем самым звеном, которое скрепит эти страницы. Я мечтаю о том, чтоб именно это чувство заводило нас каждое утро. Когда Ириша улетала, она спросила меня: "Азю, ты можешь пообещать мне, что будешь счастлив?" Я не знал, к чему этот вопрос, почему именно сейчас, но взял, да и ответил: "Да". После Иркиной гибели всего через четыре дня после этого разговора, её вопрос стал звучать в моей голове, как нанесённое судьбой проклятие. Как я могу быть счастлив? Мой мозг подбрасывал мне картину: сидит в этом раздолбанном, шатком стареньком самолётике наша Ирка - этот светлячок, которому сегодня исполнилось всего тридцать лет. Красотка, которая выглядит моложе своего возраста, но у которой за спиной уже такой жизненный опыт. Позади два пройденных с улыбкой колледжа, увиденные страны, гора написанной глубочайшей поэзии и прозы, картины, песни, танцы, ёга, спорт, кухня, земледелие, муж, родители, родители мужа, сестра, сестра мужа, муж сестры, племянники, племянницы, тётя, дядя, многочисленные друзья, сотрудники, кино, театры, вино и смех. В этой картине я становлюсь ей и вдруг наступает момент, когда сердце одним лишь ударом способно взломать грудную клетку и выскочить. В этот момент в моей голове молниеносно проносится мысль - Я не готов ещё, я не хочу, что бы это так закончилось! Неужели это конец? Я знаю, я чувствую и знаю - нет, это не конец. Ты с нами. Мир в наших глазах - твой! Любовь, которую мы несём в себе - твоя! Это наша ОТВЕТСТВЕННОСТЬ видеть в этом мире красоту! Мы обязаны найти любовь и любить! Это наш шанс выжить! Вселенная ждёт нашего пробуждения, нужно только открыть глаза, стряхнуть с себя роль страдальца и объявить всему миру - Я дышу - и значит, я люблю! Я люблю - и, значит, я живу! .


Азю, я очень люблю тебя, ты сделала мою жизнь богатой, я люблю свою жизнь, я счастлив!

Irka in New York

April 14, 2011

Years ago, Felix and I filmed and eddited a video as a present to Irishka and Gena for their wedding. That film was very beautiful. Lots of people at the wedding got to enjoy it. Thank goodness we made it back then...That movie provided the raw material for Felix when he was creating this short masterpiece as a tribute to Irka. Here it is:

From the trenches

November 8, 2010

 Irka, I always knew how awesome you were, the fact that you passed does not surprise me a bit. But I was there when you studied (or tried to study) and I know first hand that this was not an easy victory. Felix and I tried to help as much as we could and I am sure all those question reviews helped a bit too! You are amazing! You are brilliant! You are YOU! I love you, sis.

Add your photo!

October 18, 2010

If you don't see yourself on this Connections Board and would like to add your photo, please send it to me, I will post it and take a picture and send it to you updated : )

Love you all!

That camping out in Irka's memory turned out to be very positive, inspiring and wonderful experience for all of us.

Белая птица

October 13, 2010

From my journal entry:

...There is so much to say about Ira and her story that's very hard to put in few words as it's tragic but also magical in many ways. Currently, her parents are in Nepal trying to return her body for a burial in US but due to Nepalese lack of infastructure this process is going take over 10 days. Meanwhile, as we are here waiting for her physical body, we are connecting with her pure soul that is flying over the mountains of Himalayas that she had so much longing for, and now finally there at home. We are identifying with Ira as she touched in each of us something very raw and deep inside. We have a bit of Ira in our hearts, her dreams, frustrations, sadness, love, happiness, etc etc. As I am rereading her posts and poems, I smile. Ira was feeling and seeing life in a spiritual way, beyond just this reality. She saw "an ocean of more with the time to absorb it all and the power to create a universal hug so strong that no one will ever again curse the rain"...
Besides her expressions in those profound and beautiful poems, she loved dancing. I was lucky to share some of these dancing experiences with her. In one of her posts, Irisha writes about Shpongle concert: 
"I could not stop moving, everything was crystal clear but the people around me blurred... I could not understand a single word, but I could read every motion. I felt so safe there, with others who could not stop. There was so much positive energy, it coiled around the corners and they spun it back out to us like cotton candy at a carnival. I still don't know why or how I left, but I felt so much love there... for life, for myself, for everyone... I'll keep moving, i'll keep moving, under the gliding lights of someone's fireflies, everywhere there is balance and openness and a day is here, one has gone, one will come and who's to say which one we're in now, my love...I'll keep moving and you keep moving and we'll watch each other turn into light..."

Вороны (Белая птица) was her favorite song by DDT. It embodies Ira and her beautiful spirit that's now free.

Свеча догорела, упало кадило.
Земля, застонав, превращалась в могилу.
Я бросилась в небо за легкой синицей,
Теперь я на воле, я - Белая Птица.

Взлетев на прощанье, кружась над родными,
Смеялась я, горя их не понимая.
Мы встретимся вскоре, но будем иными.
Есть вечная воля, зовет меня стая....

Irisha, we'll keep moving and watch each other turn into light...RIP!

Слишком ярко ты горела, слишком быстро ты ушла...

October 5, 2010

Ируша, счастье моё, непоправимая моя утрата... Когда силы покидают меня, я зажигаю свечу у нас дома, а сейчас я зажгла свечу здесь, сегодня,  когда исполняется 30 дней со дня прощания с тобой и 40 дней со дня твоего ухода.  Пусть эта свеча горит для всех, кто тебя любит и помнит.

Ровно 30 лет ты прожила, показав как много можно успеть за отпущенный срок, даря окружающим свет и счастье.   Ты делала всё так стремительно, и не было человека, который смог бы тебя догнать! Твой жизненный темп был слишком высок, остановить тебя было невозможно. Вперед и вверх! Ты стремилась к самой высокой точке - к Эвересту,  к вершине Мира и там оборвалась твоя жизнь. За 30 лет ты как бы сделала все свои дела, закончив их на Вершине.

30 лет я была счастлива. Каждый день ты радовала нас своими идеями, успехами, друзьями, превращая мечты в жизнь. 30 лет, которые пролетели мгновенно... Невообразима, невероятна была твоя жизнь, и наша рядом с тобой. Я горда и счастлива, что у меня такая дочь. А скорбь и боль мою измерить нельзя. Ты была нашим Ангелом и остаёшься им навсегда. Всё счастье, что ты мне подарила за эти 30 лет,  я поделю на оставшиеся годы, и это поможет мне жить дальше. Слишком  ярко ты горела,  слишком быстро ты ушла...

Guitar Night

September 10, 2010

It was one of the harsh New York winter nights when a few of us went back to Irka's apartment in Washington Heights after yet another party. We talked, laughed, played the guitar and sang different Russian songs. Irka loved guitar, she could just stay there and listen to it for hours. There was a song that she particlularly liked and asked me to play it several times. It was "Ne Plach" ("Don't Cry") by Tatyana Bulanova. Ira said that she had brought a record of this song with her to London when she went there for the study abroad program. It was the only piece she had had at the time to remind her of the home and the Russian heritage, and she had played the song over and over....

We had so much fun that we didn't notice how the dawn started to crawl into Irka's room. It was obvious that we wouldn't get much sleep that night...and it was also obvious that I didn't have a bed to sleep in anyway. Irka immediately offered hers, and so we ended up sleeping together in her bed for an hour maximum. 

When we woke up, I felt completely exhausted and cranky....not Ira though... She quickly got dressed, smiled with her lively and peaceful smile that was saying, "Everything is great!" , got a Starbucks coffee, and took off to work....It was the first time then that I wondered where the heck she gets all this energy from!!!!

This is how I will remember her forever, tireless, full of energy and smiling....

Below is the link to the song that was Ira's favorite that night:       


the crown jewel

August 26, 2010

Irisha, your ability to deeply touch any soul you came close to has the compasity to generate endless amout of stories and god knows the story of my life has a huge chapter of you in it. you know me i am a "collector", i collect the unique, the interesting, the talented and the brilliant people, and by far you are the crown jewel of my "collection", i can not start  explaining how grateful i am our lives bumped into each other and the impact you had on what and who i am today. when the pain will pass and the tears will dry a memory of the purest soul i ever met will forever remain in my heart. i love you ...


Tequila shots

August 26, 2010

We met at Korova Milk Bar, back when it was still in the East Village.  She wore a sleeveless dress, stylish summer heels and a wide smile.  Naturally, we had to meet.  Shortly into the conversation, my friend joined us and offered tequila shots, to which she rapidly agreed.  Almost too rapidly.  Shot glasses and  limes were served to us, and i invited her to lick the back of her hand so i could pour some salt over it.  Didn't want her to think of us as tequila amateurs or something.  She complied.  Gazing straight into my eyes, without blinking or looking away even for a second, she licked...all the way down from the bare shoulder.  The rest became history.

To Irka

August 25, 2010

Irka was the first person who vocally encouraged me  to pursue whatever it is my insanity was set on – music, poetry, films... Her encouragement like her smile had magnetic strength to it... a strength that I will never be able to forget, or ever want to part from... 


The sun is down, not much to see

The souls around are running free

It is so strange, I hear you laugh

I see you smile and yet I cannot say good–bye


The winds are high, the sails are set

Although you’re gone, thank God we met

Our final dance, our final words

Were on the fly, and yet we never said good–bye


The world’s an emptier place today

Your soul is her%u0435, your body – far away

The world’s an emptier place tonight

For it’s a moon full of good–byes


What’s left to say? What’s to forget?

The way you lived – with no regrets

I feel you lead me hand in hand

And stride in stride – how can we ever say good–bye?




Irina Shekhets

24/08/1980 – 24/08/2010 

I Stretch Out My Hand

August 25, 2010

This poem was written by Irina and published in our high school's 1996 edition of the literary magazine Scarlett Letters



I stretch out my hand to Time

Although it denies me rhyme

And wastes all my precious ink

To Time I drink.


And, oh, all the doors it slams

In faces of those it loves

No, it is not a faithful friend

But, alas, I am sick of doves.


And how it beats all that play

And slaps in the face the rest

Time, my clever fiend

I put your strength to the test!


Why do you not kill me now,

When I all your trust deceive?

You’re weakening, Time, my lord

You have a heart, I believe.


How awful, I thought, for sure

That when all this world is tossed

Together, we’d have a laugh

At those who had fought…but lost.


Or, won (as they like to think)

Oh, how all their passions brew!

Alas, you have joined them, sir,

And, now, I will laugh at you.

Dedicated to the sister

August 25, 2010


It was one of those worlds, sparkling with life, world where the norms adjusted to one stuff per one person level. Stuff such as favorite books, favorite clothing, hereditary rings and similar stuff didn’t have a niche in this one.

World of a constant movement and no attachments, it was just impossible to have one or understand how it feels to have it, since every once in a while a strange shift will happen and everyone will readjust to another one stuff not less favorite or significant. In fact you even didn’t notice the shift in any emotional level. Perhaps, you just switched to be an other person with an other stuff, but it really didn’t matter which way it happened here. 

You had a one conversation best friend or a 40 seconds pet, a good job with whatever thousand income and perhaps a nice house in witch the abstract didn’t have any special mining.

We lived there, well preserved and always warm, unbearably in love and loved by the surrounding.

She had her lotus staff, just because she loved it, by the evening she got a cozy jacket with no packets and a pedal later on. 

It was a humble world with a liquid personality, but still it didn’t have any meaning, not the world nor its personality. 

He didn’t cry when he dropped his stuff, the snow glob broke down to thousand little pieces, our world leaked on a no carpet floor, but I remember everyone was smiling and so was him.

*** Irkin was my inspiration for the story, I wrote it about 3 weeks ago and dedicated it to her, never wrote stories before...

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