Olga V. (ESE)

I never doubt for a moment that life is a celebration! I often have this inner state of joyful excitement and pure happiness. And whenever people happen to be around me—absolutely anyone: close family, relatives, distant acquaintances, or complete strangers—it just somehow happens, completely on its own, that I draw their attention and pull them toward me to gift them, to fill them with my joyful emotions.

I can strike up a conversation with anyone, feeling deep down how dear this person is to me; there is always an irrepressible desire living inside me to warm them up, cheer them up, help them, and "infuse them with enthusiasm." Often, I don't really dive into the core of a person’s problem when talking to them—I’ve known this about myself for a long time—but I can genuinely convince them that everything will be wonderful, and that everything is wonderful right now. And around me, people warm up, become more confident, get inspired, and keep that mood for a very long time.

Sometimes my friends call, and I can already sense that they need support. The conversation usually doesn't touch on any serious topic; it's just them getting an emotional recharge from me.

And I am so glad. After all, with this immense inner state of elation, joy of life, and enthusiasm, I could fill the entire globe—just take it!

I "terribly" love giving gifts. I remember how every year for the first day of school, my grandmother would arrange a bouquet for my favorite teacher. We would gather the bouquet the evening before. And all evening, I would walk up to it, stroke it, surround it with my favorite toys, mentally imagining how I would present it—give it away.

I remember the strongest feeling of happiness was at the exact moment I was handing over the bouquet. I don't remember the teacher's reaction, I was completely consumed by this massive inner happiness of my own: I gave it, I presented it, I brought joy—or so it seemed to me, just as intensely as I was rejoicing myself.

Sometimes my doctor tells me, "Why are you constantly running around, fussing over everyone?! Take care of yourself..." And I get chills down my spine. What do you mean, take care of myself? If I do that, I'll definitely "fall ill with all kinds of ailments." Just let me run around someone, and that's how I'll get better.

In my youth, I worked as a waitress at a sanatorium in the city of Yevpatoriya. I was just bursting to go to work. I served ten tables—that’s forty people—and there were children there: yesterday they ordered something—we had a pre-order system—and today they don't want it. The parents ask to exchange it. Is that easy to do?

It’s hard! Because the kitchen gives out everything exactly as ordered. So, I always kept a small chocolate bar in my apron pocket. Why? If the guests asked me to change a dish, I’d run to the kitchen counter, give them the chocolate bar, ask nicely, and they’d exchange it for me. I bought those chocolates with my own money. Oh, I never even thought about the cost. But when I see that I’ve pleased people, everything inside me just sings.

I remember once, some guests arrived late—everything had just been cleared away after dinner, and they were seated at the tables next to mine. Their waitress went to the kitchen to see if there was anything left, but I rushed to my pantry, grabbed some bread, sugar, and tea, and ran to serve them hot tea. I remember how I was practically flying home afterward, and there was so much joy inside me.

<...> Recently, I met an interesting old lady. She lives near our house, and everyone knows she feeds stray dogs. Her husband is a well-off man, so she could just sit at home, but she found a place where she can get incredibly strong energy and feel happy. So, there I am, walking with my own dog, and this elderly lady comes along—she is already in her eighties—and around her is a small pack of six or seven dogs. You should have seen those well-fed, content, peaceful, blissful faces, and tails lowered in gratitude. They walk around her, and you get the feeling that they are bound to her by warm, soulful feelings. They look up at her face from time to time, their eyes literally glowing with fullness and gratitude.

She told me, "I wake up in the morning and feel a ravenous, animal hunger. I know that I am sensing their hunger. How can you sleep through that? Once I feed them, I feel full myself—all the hunger goes away. I don't eat much myself, but when they eat, I feel them filling up with satiety, and it gives me so much energy—I am just happy! As long as my legs can carry me, I will feed them; I can't live without it. This is what keeps me alive."

In my youth, I lived quite far from the city center; buses ran rarely, without any schedule, and sometimes in winter, I had to freeze at the bus stop for a long time. And then I discovered a special trait in myself—I perfectly remember all bodily sensations that I have ever experienced at least once. So, once again, waiting for the bus and gradually freezing, I began to recall how I used to walk by the sea on scorching, flat pebbles, how it burned my feet. And right then, my feet began to warm up, warmer and warmer—until it was the exact same feeling I had by the sea. I felt hot—my whole body felt hot. Not only that, but the sound of the sea appeared, the smell of seaweed, and I could even feel a sea breeze blowing...

I love walking in the forest, especially in spring. So many subtle scents! Buds are bursting, little leaves are unfolding, and they are a bit resinous. The resin of each tree smells unique. It's a kind of miracle. There is a hint of bitterness that tickles your throat—the smell of pine; the aroma of unfurled tiny spruce paws that drenches you with freshness; and the sharp, pungent, but body-toning and energizing smell of poplar.

And how the earth smells in spring! Like something coming back to life, beckoning into a new beginning, fresh, stirring the senses... When I am in the forest, my body is just a single vibration with everything the forest lives by: the sounds, the smells, the rustle of the woods... It's as if my body isn't there, I dissolve... I also love standing under a birch tree when it splashes its branches with barely unfolded leaves. Right then, such a deep relaxation happens in my body, such a wave of freshness washes over me—this wave fills me completely, leaving nothing out. And there it is—the feeling of happiness! It feels like you don't need anything else in life! Happy, happy! My soul sings.

I absolutely adore doing home renovations. I've adored it all my life. I remember when I was in high school, my friends and I had a rather long walk home from school. Those were times of shortages, and white window-frame paint would occasionally be "dropped" onto the shelves—meaning it wasn't regularly available for sale. So, the girls and I are walking from school, and right there on the street outside a hardware store, white enamel paint had just been put on sale. I quickly put my girls in line, confiscate their money, and load them up with the purchased paint cans. Everyone walks along, grumbling, but carrying them. As for me, I'm already feeling dizzy with excitement; I feel like I can't think about anything else except that I want to paint! To paint a window, or a door, or... I imagine with my whole inner being how the brush smoothly glides over the frame, and the paint covers the wood evenly in a thin layer... Oh, and then the waiting for the first coat to dry, the impatience... And before my eyes, a freshly painted window is already shining. But the process is more interesting; there is pure bliss in it, there is work filled with the most subtle sensations, and a desire to complete everything meticulously to get an absolute ideal, smooth and flawless!

Those were my interests at fifteen or sixteen, and, of course, home renovation has been my lifelong passion. My neighbors are terrified of my renovations. I savor the process so much that they catch the bug, and only later do they realize that renovating isn't nearly as much fun for them as it is for me.