Dara

I love art, sea, and solitude.
I don’t love lying, injustice, and cold.
And I’m Dara.

(My full name is Daryna, but no one needs this information. Except for my employer)

«He loved three things

in this life:

Vespers, white peacocks,

And old maps of America,

Didn’t love children crying,

Raspberries with tea,

Or feminine hysteria

…And I

was his wife.»

Anna Akhmatova

Hey-ho-lalala!

I’m a little dull beggar, can’t imagine my life without books, volunteering, and sea. I study philosophy at university, already have a nursing degree and am working on (sort of) solving the problem of human loneliness.
That’s about my past, my present, and my future. And not really about me.

 

So.
There was a time when my parents lived in poverty and sadness, and when Saint Nicholas visited them two decades ago, he decided to present them a baby, who’d probably fix everything.
And here I am.
And if you ask me what my name means, I say you «a gift». It all makes sense, doesn’t it?
And if you ask me whether I really fixed everything, I say yes. Because usually, babies bring love and care, and patience, and desire to bend over backwards to make them happy. And my parents indeed did it.
I always think how lucky I am to be born in exactly this family, with this fascinating set of genes and all amazing family stories that my grandma tells as a novelist, creating this magical atmosphere of fairy-tail. But my favorite fairy-tail is «White Fang» by Jack London, which my dad would read to me and my brother before sleep, and I’ve never read this book on my own because I’m really afraid of ruining those images that came up while I was listening to daddy’s reading.
So I had the best childhood ever and my best friend from those times is still my best friend. Should we assume that we met when she was a six-month-old baby, we’ve been together for twenty-one years. I consider how many activities I was involved in as a child, how strong and successful I was. I used to be a very optimistic and sweet girl, who had ambitions to be the best in my class and school. And I wonder how profoundly I’ve changed during my teen years and how considerably my ideas and views, and character traits, and attitudes, and relationships have transformed. How far I am now from that «gold girl» who was so savvy and cheerful (despite the fact I stole candy from the shop when I was five. And still, it’s my big and shameful sin, so I tell everyone about it to be honest with people and protect them wrong impressions of me as a good person).
I am the kind of person who starts their breakfast with chocolate cake. My favorite pasta contains a small amount of macaroni and 5+ kinds of cheeses. The most memorable dinner I’ve had took place on the seashore in Montenegro, when I was watching the sunset and eating canned tuna in oil with bread. But there’s no way in hell I prefer something to the fresh carrot.
I don’t just like poetry. I feel the inseparable connection between us. I used to compose very awful poems when I was a child. But my father taught me to learn one poem per day to develop memory and for some period of time I really did it. So now I can’t help putting verses everywhere, even in my papers, and some of my teachers even like it!
Then I found the blessed world of classical music. And it swallowed me completely. But now words are absolutely worthless. If you want to touch the sky (almost literary) — turn on Rachmaninov and close your eyes — here is my best recipe of, you know, how to achieve transcendence.
Once I decided to explore myself and went to a children’s camp as a camp counselor. I wasn’t really keen on children, but I discovered,  to my surprise, that they not only can teach you better than anyone but can steal your heart and push you to reach for the stars to make them happier. In fact, that camp was my first step to turn into a girl who can’t stop helping every single person (no matter if they need it or not). And now I’m part of a great volunteer organization that tries to save the world in many countries and in many, many different ways.
So I’m sitting in the cafe and waiting for the bus to come and take me to the airport, where I meet my friend, who comes back from Italy. It’s almost late evening, and the snow has stopped, and music in the cafe is pretty nice. You never know what to tell people in your bio. So I’d better leave another poem here, written by a giant — Thomas Stearns Eliot. For me, this poem means a new spiral of my development — how to be humble; how to be still.
(I can’t choose some of the verses. Hopefully, it’s not necessary to read at all. But, come one, it’s Eliot)

 

Because I do not hope to turn again

Because I do not hope

Because I do not hope to turn

Desiring this man’s gift and that man’s scope

I no longer strive to strive towards such things

(Why should the agèd eagle stretch its wings?)

Why should I mourn

The vanished power of the usual reign?

Because I do not hope to know

The infirm glory of the positive hour

Because I do not think

Because I know I shall not know

The one veritable transitory power

Because I cannot drink

There, where trees flower, and springs flow, for there is

nothing again

Because I know that time is always time

And place is always and only place

And what is actual is actual only for one time

And only for one place

I rejoice that things are as they are and

I renounce the blessèd face

And renounce the voice

Because I cannot hope to turn again

Consequently I rejoice, having to construct something

Upon which to rejoice

And pray to God to have mercy upon us

And pray that I may forget

These matters that with myself I too much discuss

Too much explain

Because I do not hope to turn again

Let these words answer

For what is done, not to be done again

May the judgement not be too heavy upon us

Because these wings are no longer wings to fly

But merely vans to beat the air

The air which is now thoroughly small and dry

Smaller and dryer than the will

Teach us to care and not to care

Teach us to sit still.

Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death

Pray for us now and at the hour of our death.

(From Ash Wednesday)

Time is flying, and it’s time for me to go.
On the same basis, really soon I meet all of you — cool campers — who have already made me very excited about this summer.

See you, guys!

 

P.S. I hate taking photos! So here are just some of those which are not so bad and bearable, and also can tell something about the memorable moments of my life.

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