Life is a Game, and Love is the Prize

Sunbeams illuminate the sheets of paper, stacked in front of me on the table. Some bear printed text, others handwritten. Each encompasses an entire life.

Previously, the main content of these letters and notes was agony, despair, unbearable suffering. Ruined, distorted lives, the death of children and loved ones, incurable diseases. These were letters from the brink of death. Their main theme was hope for a miracle, for relief from incessant misfortunes. A lack of understanding of what was happening, a sense of life's unfairness, bewilderment at betrayals and humiliations by loved ones – not just letters, but sheer pain.

Years have passed, and the meaning of the letters has changed. Almost all of them breathe happiness – finally found. Not everyone writes about love and faith. But love and faith gradually begin to invisibly present in each letter. Words like «misfortune», «catastrophe», «betrayal», «hopelessness» are practically gone. Others remain: «not yet succeeded», «still unable to», «beloved made a mistake, let down».

When you know who you are, where you came from, and where you're going, then fear, agony, and despondency gradually disappear. Life becomes a beautiful game, and the main prize in this game is love. This prize we periodically receive. Then, out of naivety and inability to keep it, we lose it, and then, after undergoing trials and sufferings, we find it again. And gradually, our soul stops depending on the blessings we once worshipped. Thoughtfully, I sift through the notes.

I'll need to remove my name and patronymic where possible, exclude names and surnames to avoid linking to an individual's identity, reduce words of gratitude and praise towards me to avoid being overly saccharine. The texts themselves are better left untouched.

Lately, more notes have appeared that tell about how a person's character has changed, how illnesses have passed. Sometimes miracles just happen. I should keep only those letters that talk about sequential changes, about overcoming personal problems. Miracles are better set aside.

The real miracle is the change in character and worldview. If instead of hatred, you managed to feel pity for your offender, if you treat a close person who inadvertently offended you magnanimously, that is a true miracle. If giving has become more pleasant than receiving, that's also a miracle. To make all this possible, one needs to put the soul in order. Only then will love enter the soul and make a person happy. And when the soul is healthy, then the future appears, then both destiny and physical health align.

S. N. Lazarov, «Experience of Survival», part 1