What keeps us away from seeing the world in all its glory? Its enough to look at it once with clear and not blear eyes and you will never be the same. This feeling goes so deep inside you that even people around you, as if obeying some mysterious instincts, begin to treat you as a completely different person and sometimes give in without understanding why they do it.
Suddenly a sharp noise outside dispelled my fantasy and I reluctantly returned to the usual world full of everyday routine. Actually, I quite often lapse into day-dreaming, captured by thoughts. Time passed steadily, but I didnt want to leave the balcony. Bench seemed to be alive under the rays of the morning sun and a slight scent of wood breathed in the air.
A few more minutes passed and I finally came to my senses. The room door was slightly shut. With one flick of my wrist, I opened it and went inside. On entering the room, I really noticed that there are so many different things around me as far as my eyes can see. The room was quite comfortable and nice, despite the fact that most of its furniture consisted of old wooden chests and closets. Chandelier decorated with all sorts of figures and cutouts fit in the interior very well. When the evening twilight thickened in the room, this chandelier got its own, indescribable charm of antique. But the biggest attention I paid to the wooden ledge of some subject from the pantry. It was interesting that I could not immediately figure out what it was. By that time, more than two months passed since I had rented this apartment, located just in two hundred meters from my workplace. And in all that time I never looked into the pantry. My curiosity was flaring up more and more. Quickly stepping on the soft carpet, I found myself at the pantry door. However, it was opened just a little and it seemed impossible to open it. A sofa and an old chest of drawers were too close to it. I gently pushed the sofa away and managed to reach my goal.
That very object was easel. It was obvious that it was used often enough. At the edges and particularly at the bottom lining, paint droplets were translucent. Sometimes they were mixed and formed incredible color combinations. However much time has passed since then, and an easel seemed to be frozen in anticipation of new creation. I carefully took it out and put it in the center of the room. Somewhere on the shelf were laying pieces of canvas, which could be still used for work. However not being an artist and having no skills in dealing with the canvas, I decided to leave it where it had been for the last few years. Having gone through some notes and heaps of books, I found a few sheets of paper of the needed size that fit the frame. While making my search I was surprised to find out that the apartment owners were teachers of literature. Most books were dedicated to this profession; folded sheets with essays, written expositions and other school works were laying here and there. Some of them were clean and had high marks; others were covered with red ink inside and out. I noticed one essay. The handwriting was such that it seemed as if letters were carved with a rough stone on a rock. It did rather resemble an ancient cuneiform than a modern language.
After selecting some sheets of the needed size, I grabbed one of them and attached it to the easel frame with clips. It was a burning desire to draw something. I picked up a pencil and was ready to start my work, when suddenly
When suddenly I realized that I do not know what to draw, moreover, I had no idea what I could draw at all. At that moment, I felt great emptiness inside. I was still the same as before, but now I looked at myself as if a little higher, from somewhere far above. I had nothing in my head besides small daily activities. This idea flashed in my mind like thunder. In a twink, I realized that I dont live, but just go through my life. As if with my brain on autopilot. All my activities, being very important and necessary (but necessary for whom?), in a new light didnt make sense any more. Even before realizing the emptiness inside me, I immediately felt an irresistible longing to get new knowledge.
Inspired by my new desire, I went to work.
In quick and a bit hasty steps, I went down to the first floor and went out. I did not notice when the morning cool, invigorating my sleepy mind, completely disappeared. By 10 oclock, it was so warm that it seemed to be a real heat by midday. The city, not subsiding for a minute, was gaining more and more speed now. After passing through the shady park, sown with all sorts of trees and flowerbeds, I came to the place of my employment.
My working day began quite normally. I joined the public frenetic pace so quickly that there wasnt left any trace from the morning meditation. It was a feeling that the whole world in all its immense diversity was trying to occupy all my thoughts without giving me a second to come to my senses and realize what Im doing and why. In general, I liked my work, especially when I compared it with other less prestigious types of work. And every time it calmed down my mind flurried by various thoughts. But really I was interested in and delighted with what I was doing probably for the first 34 months. During this time I was actually getting acquainted with both workflow and people involved in it. Then rather a strange phenomenon appeared. Neither the conditions nor the staff nor even the increase of wages gave me the former keen interest in my work. Time after time vague suspicions about the soundness of my existence appear. Somewhere in the depth of the soul the idea is emerging how great it would be to direct all my creative and intellectual potential to a hobby.
But work took so much time that sometimes, in moments of extreme fatigue I didnt understand whether it really exists, my favorite activity. If it is possible generally to have such activity that would bring both money and pleasure. Moreover, a permanent pleasure, which will not transform with the course of time into something like duty.
Such thoughts occurred to me constantly at least once every 23 months. And they ended either with a conflict at work or simply with a change of mood and the realization that I was thinking again about some stupid things, and I should be immensely grateful for having such a good work.
However, after this morning such thoughts seemed to seize control of my mind, not giving me any opportunity to concentrate on work. Usually I immediately took a tool and began to make simple movements learned over the years. Fingers seem to begin making the necessary actions themselves. Sometimes these actions are so fast and precise that even eye cant catch them.
My colleagues and I have spent most of our time at the enterprise in such «mechanical condition. And strangely, it was the key to a successfully done work. However, this fact does not have so much influence the personal success. As it will turn out later this is really not the same thing.
Today the usual order of things for me was broken a little. Although somewhere inside there was a strong feeling that now everything is exactly as it should be. As soon as I took my tool and started using it for the processing of a metal workpiece or a wire, I was horrified to realize that movements once had been brought to the automatism no longer worked. My mind like a watchful guard was keeping me on slight alert. I was so much aware of every movement that it took much more time to process a detail. Saying nothing of the efficiency. I felt absolutely everything a cold metal touching my skin, a smooth detail surface occasionally slipping through my palms, a specially processed framework exuding a faint metallic smell. Sometimes I felt that I clearly saw how both the framework and its parts were made on a lathe. As a machinist takes a piece of raw metal and starts to pass it through many incisors, giving it the desired shape