Still waters run deep!

by Galina Toktalieva

As long as I remember myself, I was always mesmerized by water. Even washing cups made it pleasant experience feeling blissful substance touching my skin. Being so much fond of sea, I avoided deep places and could not swim at all, combining adoration toward water with dread.

Most likely, such attitude I got by being born in region of steppes and mountings, where holy substance is rare and brings life to dry earth of nomads.During summer months, I was often sitting in fire boat fastened to the Mur coast.

Looking at the river I perceived wisdom of things, feeling myself perfect particle of perfect universe. Boat was gently rocking me and I was sure that linking chain was broken and I was floating in nowhere.Walking along Muradweg, I used to send cosmos mail messages to all possible Gods and Goddesses of water. You must pronounce your utmost wish

looking at the river - and it will be delivered to holy quarters of nature.

How could I compress all unfulfilled desires in one single wish that can be send as plea to eternity? Feeling wind drying my tears I begged

river: “Please show me the way!”

But river never confirmed or denied anything. It existed solemnly in sphere where small private misfortunes and frustrations played no role. River always wanted to show me – whatever I did, suffering was inevitable!

Only one medicine was valid – detachment.

For your own sake you better be detached of your desires and dependencies!

Dependence starts as adventure. Among tens of similar affairs, you were so easy to come through- only one gives birth to fatal addiction.

Fatality comes in image of man.

He invites you to make trip to Slovenia in his car and then picks you up at the corner of the street. He is suspicious and nervous; he makes a few rounds in area to catch glimpse of possible spies.

Contrary to you, he has something to lose.

During trip, you both keep strained silence, partly because of his CD with Russian music that plays loud – to prevent probable record of talk. He doesn’t fully apprehend the meaning of Russian songs he is listening to. In my turn, I am shy, but provocative. Instability of my situation and fears make me enterprising and dangerous.

This game is seduction. I try to seduce mature man, arouse his feelings and then look what will go out of it. Sexual satisfactions I don’t search and also never get.

Game is much more meaningful than that. I want to gain power over man’s heart.

We swirl around along Slovenian roads, captured by curiosity and trepidation. Eventually distant hotel is found. Not a single detail of that intimacy I can recollect. Trivialities of quick closeness are dimmed by anxiety. Nor can I recollect his caresses. May be there were none.

Depth of my feelings surpassed all, and if sex occurred under any circumstances, it played only role of confirmation.

We met again and made another trip. I was sure I would easily forget these affairs, as I forgot many of them that gave nothing

to me except hurt. But imagination was already at its work, and poison of dependence on imaginary images started circulation in my blood.

It was like unknown illness you could not take control of and could not predict its frightening zigzags. It took me years of struggle to get rid of it.

For a long time, in fact for a few years I listened to cassettes with Russian music he presented me – and did it every day. Every day I dreamed of dancing together with him in big hall feeling his body in elegant suit pressed against mine.

Perhaps I disturbed God of Mur river with my requests too often. Fate hit me unexpectedly.

Once I came to public ball and saw him dancing with other woman. Looking how he kept her hand, I knew unmistakably that he slept with her. His face expressed tenderness unfamiliar to me. Everything there was like in my dream – big hall full of people, lights, sounds of music and his eyes…lingering at other woman’s face.

I stepped in shadow. Pain in chest! What physical anguish can be compared with it? Lights merged spinning around. There was no past, no future, only this moment of agony that was lasting ever and ever.

I dig nails in my hand, and drops of blood appeared, but there was no ache.

I became suddenly blind and could not make one face from another.

I tried to gulp vodka in buffet, but failed and threw it at shoulder of person standing beside.

Then it was lapse in my memory. Next time I found myself standing at Hauptbrücke

and looking at dark waters below. How much time passed, a few hours, twenty minutes or may be years? From eternity point of view, it was all the same.

O, River! Why did you take my utmost dream from me? Please take instead my life!

It seemed water noise changed its tonality as if trying communicate something to me.

I could feel fresh breathing of the Mur at my skin.

To terminate all in a moment? Jump down and after seconds of injury to enter eternity – without regret, attachment and pain?

The dim waters of the Mur moved forward – and this movement was suddenly right and full of deep meaning. River – the only witness – knew what I felt. It told me the highest wisdom of moment was to die being alive and to transit to other self, other point of view.

Street was empty and I could hear bell ringing two. Suddenly I felt tremendously tired, and knew I must go to reach my small attic.

I also knew I would stand all in this life, because that day I survived death of my dream.