You can never go wrong if you do the right thing. Mark Twain
I heard this phrase for the first time in the film “The Intern” and it caused resistance and a lot of thought in me. I thought: "How so! After all, there is no “right”, just as there is no “norm”. Everything in this life is subjective, much in our consciousness is embedded in culture. How can you use these strong words! How can you be so categorical! After all, if there is something right, it means that someone is knowingly committing “wrong actions.” But the same decision can be right for a person, but wrong for others?! You can not do it this way! It is impossible to do the “right” thing!”
This is just an approximate description of my thoughts, at the emotional level I felt tension and resistance, my soul seemed to scream: "It is not true! This can’t be!”
And, of course, noticing such powerful emotions, I turned to myself with questions: “What caught me so much in this phrase? Why doesn’t she get out of my head for a week... two... a month? Why did this phrase come into my life?
Gradually I found answers to these questions for myself. I accepted that there are laws in life that need to be relied upon, that there is something stable and fundamental, which is what is “right.” It would seem that I knew this before: were the years of studying psychology wasted?! Only the question was not one of knowledge, but of admitting to oneself one’s excessive tolerance and worship of subjectivism; in the feeling that there is “black and white” in life, and not just “shades of gray”*.
But what then is this correct foundation on which everything should be built?! I will assume that this foundation is myself (well, again, no great discoveries). Probably, every person, deep down in his soul, always knows what will be right in accordance with his principles, values and needs. But along with the “right”, there is a parallel “should”. And it was precisely this confrontation that caused discomfort in me, because “need” is for relatives and others, for prestige and status, for maintaining one’s own mask and avoiding one’s own fears. And “right” is for me, for my comfort and inner harmony.
What is interesting is “correct” from the position of society is not always logical and can lead to external negative consequences for me. For example, I made a big mistake at work, but no one realized it was me. The consequences turned out to be disastrous, the leadership is tearing up and running, looking for the culprit, throwing accusations at everyone. Only surprisingly, suspicion doesn’t even fall on me. I feel that the “right” thing for me would be to confess everything, since the feeling of guilt and injustice gnaws at me. I realize that I could be fired, deprived of my bonus, and I could fall under the “disfavor” of management. But my heart/soul/gut (choose what you want) says: “The right thing to do is confess!” So, I have to admit it.
I think Mark Twain's quote is about this: we always know what is “right” according to our life principles, values and needs, and by doing the “right thing” we always win, no matter external consequences. And we make mistakes precisely when we close our eyes to our own “right” and act from other motives, for example, “should” (although this is not the only possible alternative).
Probably, some of you, after reading these lines, will think that I have not discovered anything new. For the world, perhaps. For myself, I learned from experience the difference between intellectual knowledge, which fits into the head, but essentially changes little, and sensory experience, which is imprinted on the heart and changes absolutely everything.
*Some people, on the contrary, find it difficult to recognize the presence of gray shades. But that’s a completely different story!”
What do you think about these words of Mark Twain?
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What do you think about these words of Mark Twain?
You can never go wrong if you do the right thing. Mark Twain
I heard this phrase for the first time in the film “The Intern” and it caused resistance and a lot of thought in me. I thought: “How can this be! After all, there is no “right”, just as there is no “norm”. Everything in this life is subjective, much in our consciousness is embedded in culture. How can you use such strong words! How can you be so categorical! After all, if there is something right, it means that someone is knowingly committing “wrong actions.” But the same decision can be right for a person, but wrong for others?! You can not do it this way! It is impossible to do the “right” thing!”
This is just an approximate description of my thoughts, at the emotional level I felt tension and resistance, my soul seemed to be screaming: “This is not true! This can’t be!”
And, of course, having noticed such strong emotions, I turned to myself with questions: “What caught me so much in this phrase? Why doesn’t she get out of my head for a week... two... a month? Why did this phrase come into my life?
Gradually I found answers to these questions for myself. I accepted that there are laws in life that need to be relied upon, that there is something stable and fundamental, which is what is “right.” It would seem that I knew this before: were the years of studying psychology wasted?! Only the question was not one of knowledge, but of admitting to oneself one’s excessive tolerance and worship of subjectivism; in the feeling that there is “black and white” in life, and not just “shades of gray”*.
But what then is this correct foundation on which everything should be built?! I will assume that this foundation is myself (well, again, no great discoveries). Probably, every person, deep down in his soul, always knows what will be right in accordance with his principles, values and needs. But along with the “right”, there is a parallel “should”. And it was precisely this confrontation that caused discomfort in me, because “need” is for relatives and others, for prestige and status, for maintaining one’s own mask and avoiding one’s own fears. And “right” is for me, for my comfort and inner harmony.
What is interesting is “correct” from the position of society is not always logical and can lead to external negative consequences for me. For example, I made a big mistake at work, but no one realized that it was me. The consequences turned out to be disastrous, the leadership is tearing up and running, looking for the culprit, throwing accusations at everyone. Only surprisingly, suspicion doesn’t even fall on me. I feel that the “right” thing for me would be to confess everything, since the feeling of guilt and injustice gnaws at me. I realize that I could be fired, deprived of my bonus, and I could fall under the “disfavor” of management. But my heart/soul/gut (choose what you want) says: “The right thing to do is confess!” So, I have to admit it.
I think Mark Twain's quote is about this: we always know what is “right” according to our life principles, values and needs, and by doing “right” we always win, despite the external consequences. And we make mistakes precisely when we close our eyes to our own “right” and act from other motives, for example, “should” (although this is not the only possible alternative).
Probably, some of you, after reading these lines, will think that I have not discovered anything new. For the world, perhaps. For myself, I learned from experience the difference between intellectual knowledge, which fits into the head, but essentially changes little, and sensory experience, which is imprinted on the heart and changes absolutely everything.
*Some people, on the contrary, find it difficult to recognize the presence of gray shades. But that’s a completely different story!”
You can never go wrong if you do the right thing. Mark Twain
I heard this phrase for the first time in the film “The Intern” and it caused resistance and a lot of thought in me. I thought: "How so! After all, there is no “right”, just as there is no “norm”. Everything in this life is subjective, much in our consciousness is embedded in culture. How can you use such strong words! How can you be so categorical! After all, if there is something right, it means that someone is knowingly committing “wrong actions.” But the same decision can be right for a person, but wrong for others?! You can not do it this way! It is impossible to do the “right” thing!”
This is just an approximate description of my thoughts, at the emotional level I felt tension and resistance, my soul seemed to scream: "It is not true! This can’t be!”
And, of course, having noticed such strong emotions, I turned to myself with questions: “What caught me so much in this phrase? Why doesn’t she get out of my head for a week... two... a month? Why did this phrase come into my life?
Gradually I found answers to these questions for myself. I accepted that there are laws in life that need to be relied upon, that there is something stable and fundamental, which is what is “right.” It would seem that I knew this before: were the years of studying psychology wasted?! Only the question was not one of knowledge, but of admitting to oneself one’s excessive tolerance and worship of subjectivism; in the feeling that there is “black and white” in life, and not just “shades of gray”*.
But what then is this correct foundation on which everything should be built?! I will assume that this foundation is myself (well, again, no great discoveries). Probably, every person, deep down in his soul, always knows what will be right in accordance with his principles, values and needs. But along with the “right”, there is a parallel “should”. And it was precisely this confrontation that caused discomfort in me, because “need” is for relatives and others, for prestige and status, for maintaining one’s own mask and avoiding one’s own fears. And “right” is for me, for my comfort and inner harmony.
What is interesting is “correct” from the position of society is not always logical and can lead to external negative consequences for me. For example, I made a big mistake at work, but no one realized it was me. The consequences turned out to be disastrous, the leadership is tearing up and running, looking for the culprit, throwing accusations at everyone. Only surprisingly, suspicion doesn’t even fall on me. I feel that the “right” thing for me would be to confess everything, since the feeling of guilt and injustice gnaws at me. I realize that I could be fired, deprived of my bonus, and I could fall under the “disfavor” of management. But my heart/soul/gut (choose what you want) says: “The right thing to do is confess!” So, I have to admit it.
I think Mark Twain's quote is about this: we always know what is “right” according to our life principles, values and needs, and by doing “right” we always win, despite the external consequences. And we make mistakes precisely when we close our eyes to our own “right” and act from other motives, for example, “should” (although this is not the only possible alternative).
Probably, some of you, after reading these lines, will think that I have not discovered anything new. For the world, perhaps. For myself, I learned from experience the difference between intellectual knowledge, which fits into the head, but essentially changes little, and sensory experience, which is imprinted on the heart and changes absolutely everything.
*Some people, on the contrary, find it difficult to recognize the presence of gray shades. But that’s a completely different story!”
I got enough sleep, I can start))
Spain, Andalusia, Malaga, Costa Del Sol, Me and flamenco!
I need to confess something to you, I don’t want misunderstandings and misunderstandings between us, I don’t want to deceive you:
- I didn’t read the books at all, the nights were busy with the feria or memory lapses after it. (except for Boryspil airport, where I sat for 5 hours and, having opened it, yawned a couple of times looking at the letters)
So, from heartbreaking confessions, let’s return to the story:
After I was on an excursion in Vienna, and ran all day after the guide trying to catch up with him, without really seeing or learning anything, spending time walking along the route imposed on me, and almost crying with frustration, because I so wanted to sit somewhere in a cozy cafe overlooking the city, listening to the noise, and maybe the music of this city with a cup of coffee, I swore that it wouldn’t happen again. I want freedom, I didn’t go on a trip to be within the framework of someone else’s vision of the world. The wonderful city of Vienna became uninteresting for me, an ordinary, meaningless photograph in the “I was here” album - and all because I approached it in the wrong way. That is why I want to study planet Earth on my own, and not with a geography and history teacher, I am already an adult girl, I can read, both written and hidden meaning. Spain was the first dream on my free list. I dreamed that one day I would go there to study flamenco dance, and at the same time study Spain and its people.
And now, it has finally arrived!
I took a flamenco dance class during the big city festival Feria de M;laga, which lasts from August 12 to August 19. This holiday is practically the most important of the year. Especially for this, a huge festival town is being built in the city, which consists of a mega amusement park, all kinds of attractions, carousels, restaurants and a town of tents where flamenco performances and other national festivals take place. And our organizers made us a foray into this city of miracles, but more on that later.
This trip is everything for the first time for me.
Primera vez.
For the first time, I’m traveling visa-free with a brand new passport, the ticket is expensive and if they don’t let me in, it will be a shame. It’s my first time flying on a plane, and I’m going by autolux to Boryspil. Now I know what the toilets on planes and buses look like. ( Valuable knowledge, I’m finishing my story, because... You can no longer fly or write))
What difficulties awaited me on the trip:
1. I'm traveling completely alone. Without company with which to pass the time while waiting, or to seek support in case of unexpected obstacles. I have no friends or acquaintances in Spain, but this can be fixed. They simply don’t know about my existence yet. Ola, guys - I'm coming! I am your new friend!
2. I don’t know languages other than Spanish or English. I will communicate through the astral plane.
3. Everything is new for me: I have never flown (another phobia), the airport for me seems like a labyrinth from a horror film, where around the corner frightening customs, border guards and other fantastic and terrible characters await me.
4. I absolutely do not know how to use cards or withdraw money from an ATM because... My husband eats the money and does the main shopping. Yes I happy woman.
5. Besides the fact that I am a happy woman, I am a woman from another planet, the planet of autism. I see it a little differently. I don't remember names, I don't remember faces. For me, people are associated with the place where I communicated with them, or with clothing or an event. That is, for example, working out in the gym with a person for years, communicating with him, I may not recognize him on the street. In life, this causes me certain inconvenience and even offends people. But that's my specialty.
6. To comprehend necessary information, I need to poke a long time with a stupid face into the nearest wall or floor (much like what domestic cats do in an unfamiliar situation, or when they find themselves in a different space - they press themselves against the walls or the floor and run until the wall ends). So, and until my eyes and brain calm down and give the command to my body that everything is fine, this environment is not aggressive, you can breathe on this planet - I will internally run around my brain in panic, spinning meaningless circles there. But there may not be time to run, and this is a problem.
7. Costa del Sol luxury resort and he made a choice - me, at a time when funds are limited. But what can I do about it? It’s not me, it’s his fault.
These are the things... But somehow I’ll figure it out as the play progresses. Moreover, there is a huge plus in these courses - Victoria, a Russian-speaking girl who deals with organizational issues. There will be someone to cry on your shoulder. Oh, Victoria, I don't envy you! I'm already flying to you.
On the Autolux bus I started watching the film “Trainee” or “Intern”. I didn't watch it, but I got it interesting phrase: “You can't go wrong if you do the right thing” Mark Twain. I need to watch this movie, I really liked the beginning.
I crossed the border everywhere with ease, without any difficulties with my brand new passport. I didn’t need an invitation or a hotel reservation, they didn’t bother me at all and didn’t ask me anything, or rather, they asked, but I didn’t understand them, I just smiled and batted my eyelashes. Although no, I confidently answered all the questions with “tourism” (even if they asked me about the weather), and then I batted my eyelashes uncertainly, let them figure it out themselves, it’s their job, not mine. Looking into my empty, meaningless eyes, they simply invited me to go further, further, further, and so on all the way to Malaga. She probably crossed herself behind my back because they were dying. Don’t relax too much, I’ll still be going home.
My air ticket has a priority stamp, and I'm like a white man went without queues. This service, when I bought a ticket, cost a couple of dollars, and to walk like that - I took it, especially since it was possible to return the ticket, reschedule the flight, and more). The most interesting thing is that having bought tickets in April, I immediately forgot the dates of the flight, not to mention what was included in its price. Why keep unnecessary information? And already at the airport, when I stood in a long line, I saw two entrances, one of which was marked priority, and I wondered what this was for. A couple of people approached the priority entrance and important look we checked in instantly, and also for the plane, etc. “probably some important people, or maybe airport workers,” I thought. And while I was thinking about new information, a running line ran through my brain: “... you know this word... you know this word... and once again for Tanya: you know this word.” And then, when they unobtrusively replayed the line in my head about twenty times, it dawned on me: that’s what SKYPRIORITY is written on my ticket. Just in case, having said in the queue that perhaps I would come back, I hesitantly approached the aisle with this name and silently handed over my ticket, they muttered something to me in English (to which I received the answer “tourism”) and, smiling, asked me to go through. I walked further, looking into the abandoned line with an apologetic look that said:
- Sorry, sorry, but I won't come back. I am now in the upper caste. Ha, ha, ha!
KLM airline generally took care of me, sending messages on Facebook all the way:
“Check-in has begun: get your boarding pass! See you on board. (and smiley).” They were so sweet, they kept me company so that I didn’t feel lonely.
The plane turned out to be unexpectedly small with narrow seats; I had imagined it bigger. My place was near the window. Wow, how pleasantly scary! The takeoff was breathtaking, and the rise to altitude took my breath away and blocked my ears. We can now check the box: fear of flying has been overcome! Now you can think about skydiving.
Royal Dutch Airlines (KLM) is a Dutch airline and this is a fairly comfortable flight, although I have nothing to compare it with. On board, twice two hours before Amsterdam and twice three hours before Malaga we were fed a delicious sandwich and cake with drinks. Everything is very nice. Already when I returned home, at the Boryspil airport I found out that I could drink wine, this was also included in the ticket price. Oh, if only I knew about this earlier. Although, maybe thank God, otherwise I can never stop halfway.
So I might not have recognized Malaga...
There was magic in the porthole. By the way, it seems to me that this is the most comfortable spot on an airplane - no one will bother you when you go to the toilet, you can lean against the wall and sleep, but I had no time for that. How strange it is, I am above the Earth, above the clouds in an amazing and complex mechanism that weighs tons, but does not fall down. And the clouds are so beautiful! We fly over slowly floating clouds, and below them we can see the earth lined with multi-colored patterns; here, at the top, there is a completely different world, this is probably how God sees us.
Halfway through the flight it became cold and my feet were very cold. There is frost on the porthole. It's good that I had a shawl with me. Although, what do I care about fleeting cold and discomfort when everything in my soul is glowing with happiness? Flying is magic. People are accustomed to miracles, they accept them as commonplace, but this is a miracle, a miracle!
I had a little less than two hours for the transfer in Amsterdam, and at the beginning of the flight it seemed to me that there was catastrophically little time. But when our plane was 45 minutes late, I realized that two hours was a waste! I galloped through the Amsterdam airport to my gate in about fifteen minutes, so there was still time left. The signs and information boards were clear, so I didn’t have to rack my brains. My fears that I would live in an airport like Tom Hanks in the movie "The Terminal" did not come true. Maybe it’s a pity, the airport in Amsterdam is nice.
I was standing at the gate (entrance to the plane) for the plane to land like some kind of criminal, I was checked for aviation security and passport control, but I couldn’t find customs. What if I get kicked off the plane because of this? The online translator that I was counting on so much didn’t work either, I connected to Wi-Fi, wrote the text quickly and went to all the airport employees, pestering me, showing my nonsense with the question “Did I go through everything?” And they explained to me with gestures that this was all, there was nothing more to go through. But I didn’t give up and went to get the next ones, it’s just that the previous ones are not competent)). In short, I’m sitting on the plane and reading the text that I showed them, and there is complete nonsense: “I passed auto safety”, not air, but auto (phone corrected ) and then the same set of untranslatable words with extra letters or their absence. You need to learn the language, it’s both funny and embarrassing. And while I was terrorizing the entire huge Amsterdam airport with stupid questions, I probably felt the urge to go to the toilet from my worries, and this was a liberation for everyone, except for those who were in the closet. I confused the men's and women's toilets, my thoughts were busy with customs, so the presence of men did not bother me at all. A dozen stunned male Europeans (dressed) stared at me, not knowing how to react, maybe equality and tolerance are already affecting this closed territory, or maybe I’m a man with certain inclinations? After I washed my hands and found next to me frozen handsome Europeans of the wrong gender, I had to play until the end, looking at them with a businesslike look, I went to dry my hands and, having dried them, proudly walked out, as it will be That's how it should be. Holy shit, how I love myself! There was also the idea of having fun and doing something like a boy (I don’t like this word), but why scare such nice, intelligent men, just a dose of my presence would be enough for them.
I boarded a plane from Amsterdam to Malaga, only Europeans and a couple of Americans were traveling with me, all well-groomed, smiling, happy with life and very inviting. I really like people who smile just like that, I also smiled while looking at them. It's probably contagious. Come on, infect me with your optimistic sores!
Comparing my person with them, a little inside my doubts, I felt like a poor relative from a deep province who flies to the elite resort of the Costa Del Sol to relax - selling corn. But all this is temporary, soon they will fly to us in Ukraine, as if to an elite resort. After all, Ukraine is a beautiful country where there are mountains, sea, steppe, history and warm, kind people.
More about the plane, it’s more beautiful and cleaner here.
And here are my compatriots, or former compatriots, I recognize them immediately by the expressions of their concerned faces, and then by their speech and voice. But, let's not forget - they fly to Spain, and she will relax them anyway, and they will fly back with a blissful smile on their face and with an endless fiesta in a relaxed body.
My legs are numb, I want to walk and squat. I went to check the toilet, just for a tour. The toilet is small on the plane, how do they fight in it, kill each other, or have sex? It can only be used for its intended purpose, and even then with difficulty.
It’s somehow not right to end a fast with the toilet, but that’s the truth of life))
p.s. I really want you to smile.
Arriving in Malaga, I went to meet my luggage on the tape with the number that the board indicated according to my flight. I am already an advanced user of airports.
The suitcases were sold like hot cakes, but mine was not.
In the end, I and about ten other people stayed near the tape. The tape has stopped, we are waiting, but nothing happens, no announcement, no luggage. I went and looked at the board, the information was still the same. A problem arose, I don’t know the language, I connected to Wi-Fi, but there was no Internet. For some reason the offline translator also doesn’t work (already in Spain I deleted it and uploaded a new one).
I approach the airport employees and explain the situation in simple terms. In response, they silently wrote to me on a piece of paper 31-34. Okay, everything is clear cool ad. What if I hadn't asked? Or more precisely? You need to go further and look from 31 to 34.
I go there, the hall is full of people, there are four tapes, a million suitcases are traveling all over them, am I going to be here until the morning? Having taken a position in the center, the hunt began; believe it or not, three minutes later I saw my original suitcase on the way. But at the beginning of the tape, some guy confidently films him. But this is definitely my suitcase, I got excited, and was already preparing to go to him and explain myself. How much I don’t like it, pulling hair, scratching, biting. But, turning the suitcase in his hands, he put it back on the belt in time. Hooray! I will have things!
- Hello, dear! - we hugged with a suitcase - I won’t give you to anyone! You have a boiler, and without coffee I'm a zombie.
The customs inspection took a few seconds, only the suitcase passed through the inspection belt and I was in Malaga! The border guards, or I don’t know what these employees are called, did the inspection in Spanish from head to toe, looking me over with a playful look. Such handsome men, like strippers dressed as police officers. They asked something in Spanish. Why these unnecessary preludes? The question still passed through me into the universe, and dissolved in a vacuum of misunderstanding to the accompaniment of my musical humming. They smiled, looked me over again from head to toe, somehow unofficially, and let me go with God.
I checked them out too, handsome guys.
Antonio met me with a sign. He greeted me in Spanish with kisses cheek to cheek twice, like an old acquaintance. Antonio is very sociable and charming, and at first sight he makes you feel at ease. If the Spaniards are all like this, then I already like Spain.
The transfer organized by our course cost me 10 euros, I would have spent all 30 on a taxi, and with buses two transfers were necessary (1.3 + 1.3 euros), and I also had to rack my brains about where the stops were, lugging around with suitcases, etc. .d.
In general, transfer is
very good, Muy bien, sehr gut!
During my entire stay in Malaga, I used buses only twice, when I was completely exhausted and after shopping with large bags. I bought the ticket directly on the bus for 1.3 euros. It was possible to buy a card for 10 trips, cheaper, but I understood that I didn’t need it. I live 4-5 km from the beach, just like in Odessa from Arcadia. It was as if nothing had changed, only palm trees instead of plane trees and acacias.
Meet Victoria
was colorful and ended with fireworks in literally. She gave me a very eventful first day, it was just fireworks, a real holiday. And the first thing that happened to me in Spain was a bullfight. I really wanted to go to it and wrote this to Victoria in a correspondence; she sent me a website where ticket prices started from 35 euros. It's a little expensive. But in Malaga, she reported that today the bullfight is free, the final between juniors. And that was great news. Before the bullfight, Victoria and I agreed to meet at the end of the park, which I already knew as my own, according to the Google map.
The park is a separate issue; it was reclaimed from the sea. How? I'll have to read it when I get there. When I entered it, in the center of the city I found myself in a real jungle, an exotic world of palm trees and all kinds of exotic plants, very loud parrots, fountains, bright colors and stunning, sweet smells. Having reached the end of the alley, I almost became deaf from the bird trills and became stupefied from the magical aromas. There was only one thought about allergy pills, because everything was hyper-loud and hyper-smelling.
I just didn’t know what it was all about yet.
Victoria arrived on a bicycle and, having attached it to the first pole she came across with an untrustworthy cord, she nonchalantly led me into the arena. I asked:
- Will the bike be stolen?
But it turned out that bicycles are not stolen in Malaga. Mopeds, bikes, cars with open windows. Happy people!
Gente feliz!
Feliz dia!
Estoy feliz!