Archive. "Influence People". Traps of Nature. Trap I - XVI
I like reading, watching science fiction, mysticism. I have heard, watched and read a lot about magic.
And suddenly I realized why the victims of magic do not roam the streets. And why the world is not ruled by sorcerers.
Please note that these events are taking place in the country I came up with. Moreover, in the world that I have created ...
Instead of introducing
For many centuries, people have been running after prey, eating and dressing in objects obtained in the hunt. And then suddenly, over the past literally 100 years, they made a giant leap in technology and their own development.
Why?
Try to go to the forest, well, let the park, like "hunting".
Set yourself a task, for example, to collect edible mushrooms or plants. For the purity of the experiment, it is desirable to be hungry.
What will happen in the process of moving to the park (forest)?
Note, even before you come to the place of "hunting"...
If you are hungry enough the imagination will draw in front of you tempting pictures of ready-made mushroom kebab. Or a basket of large, juicy and ripe berries. And you mentally eat it all. Chomping greedily. The juice from the berries will pour over you, but you will not pay attention to it, but only eat, eat ... Choking and munching until you gobble up the whole basket.
The division of labor removed the "hunter and prey" problem. At work, you do not deal with your prey, but get it for another, and he, in turn, provides you with food.
---
The First Trap
Imagination. It is not a tool. It is a sense organ. Rather, a channel of communication with the senses.
Let's look at the trigeminal nerve.
Where does the middle part of the nerve go? What is this nerve reading there?
Once upon a time there was a mustache. Not the ones under the lip. And like a cat.
Vibrissae. That have disappeared. But the nerve remained! If the nerve has not disappeared as unnecessary, then it is needed and works.
How do vibrissae work? React to air vibrations. The cat vibrates the air with its whiskers, creating micro-vibrations of the air. Air reflected from obstacles is analyzed by vibrissae. This is how the cat complements the picture of the world. This is from science.
How do we apply this to our case?
How do human vibrissae work?
But they are not there?
But the middle branch of the trigeminal nerve comes to the cheeks.
What for?
What is there to measure?
At first glance, it may seem insignificant, shallow. But under certain circumstances, this ability can save lives. It saved me.
Somehow it so happened that I was locked in the apartment. Not by chance. But not maliciously either.
My partners and I rented an apartment. Like an office. For some reason, the locks on the front door were all so arranged that they were opened and closed with keys not only from the outside but also from the inside.
The set of keys was the same for all. And it so happened that my partners had to leave, and I decided to stay in the apartment and get some sleep.
They locked me in the apartment from the outside with keys and left, taking the keys. I lay down and fell asleep.
I woke up with a strange sensation, which I realized only later. I went to the kitchen and accidentally saw that the gas supply lever on the gas water heater was turned to the maximum, and there was no fire in the column. Gas entered the apartment in a fairly strong stream. For some reason, all windows, despite the heat, were closed. There are bars on the windows. I am locked. I can't leave the apartment.
I turned off the gas, opened all the windows, stuck my nose out through the window of the back room and breathed in this way until I thought that the gas had dissipated.
Trigeminal nerve saved me. Which, I'm sure, all people have this ability. This seems to be ignored and not used. And I paid attention. And I use it.
By the way, cases with gas leaks in the room happened to me, I won't say often, but they did happen several times. And these cases, although not as dangerous as with a gas water heater, could have ended unpleasantly enough. But I usually found gas leaks quickly.
I discovered this ability for a long time. I'll make a reservation that I do not consider this an ability, I think that all people have it.
I grew up in a house with central heating. But once I got into a house with wood heating and was sitting near the stove. It was then that I drew attention to the phenomenon that is commonly called "cheeks are on fire." But then I didn't draw any conclusions.
I drew the conclusion much later.
My partner and I were sitting in a cafe. The cafe had a fireplace. My cheeks began to burn. I remembered my feelings near that very wood-burning stove a long time ago, looked at the fireplace and it dawned on me that this was not a reaction to heat.
Then I said to my partner: "Pay attention, their fireplace is poorly insulated. There are a lot of combustion products from wood in the room."
I don’t remember my partner’s reaction, but he didn’t seem to be surprised, and therefore I thought that he also noticed it. But, apparently, he did not realize until I pointed it out to him directly.
It was probably not the insulation of the fireplace, but the poor ventilation. I noticed that when heating a room, people sometimes tend to save heat and do not pay enough attention to the freshness of the air. I always try to equip the house with a fan.
And now I sit, heating the house with electricity. Which is expensive enough. But it is safer than firewood. And a powerful exhaust fan is running.
All the same, the cheeks are burning. Little. This air loses oxygen on contact with a hot metal surface.
And what does imagination have to do with it?
I have only talked about one function of the trigeminal nerve. Branches of this nerve that go to the organ of smell provide you with a good sense of smell. And to the disappeared vibrissae.
What else can the trigeminal nerve do?
Here are a couple of stories.
Maybe you can guess it yourself?
I
I was studying at the institute at that time. Energy profile. I got there by hook or by crook because I studied poorly at school. This is a completely different story, full of adventure, but continue in another story.
But now, a more interesting institute for me (teaching physical culture) began to form. I threw away the jungle of physics and mathematics with ease and plunged into wellness methods with pleasure. The Institute was in the stage of formation. No entrance exams. Low tuition fees. And the most successful thing, as it turned out for me, is a big staff shortage. So in the first year of study I already taught, and in the second year I did an internship at the head office in the summer (I studied at the branch, and the head institute was in another city). And I arrived in my hometown already in the position of a senior teacher with the right to freely recruit teachers to my group.
What does this have to do with the werewolf problem? It is important to understand my sense of self in the situation in which I find myself.
Senior teachers were sent on a schedule to the headwear on business trips to receive new methods for subsequent teaching at the branch. My time came - I went.
The road took the night, in the morning I was already in class.
I have already said that the institute was emerging and of itself there were problems with funding. Therefore, the elders on business trips were given exactly the same amount that was enough only for travel. However, advice was given: to save money, stay in the very building of the Institute. "Everyone does this ..." - This is how the situation was described evasively. The food is, of course, at my expense.
All these difficulties did not bother me a lot. "Let's break through!" But this is just about the topic of the story.
Our building, in my city, was larger, but we did not rent it entirely and only for hours, in the evening everyone had to leave.
The head institute occupied a small but separate building. Therefore, some of the visiting students stayed there overnight.
The building was actually one large hall. In this room, the main general classes took place. And there were several small rooms around the perimeter, in which classes were held in small groups.
And there were several small rooms where the pulpits met.
From the train I got straight into the thick of the class. Everything had to be written down in order to teach at home later.
At lunchtime I gave myself a little excursion. There were very small cells on the third floor. Several very small ones, I brushed them off at once - evil eyes burning in the semi-darkness told me that it was busy there. I liked a rather large walk-through cage, in fact a corridor, the "Walls" were some old curtains suspended from the ceiling on hooks. Inside, there were three large tables end-to-end. Sufficient beds for the organization, I immediately realized. This was evidenced by my aptly noticed rolled up mattresses tucked under the tables. The room was empty. During the day, the room was occupied by some kind of chair. Anatomical posters hung along the walls, and a skeleton stood in the corner, propping up folders with papers piled on the floor. Yeah, medicine.
At the end of the day, as it got dark, I again visited the "room" scheduled for the night.
The teachers and staff of the department, apparently, dispersed. I took advantage of this.
Some guy came in. Teacher or student is unclear. Age said little, our students were retirees and teachers were former schoolchildren. He sat down on the table, it looks like this is his bed for the night. He quickly moved to a horizontal position. A book appeared out of nowhere, clearly not on the subject, the student had already gone deep into his own world, inaccessible to me. I was clearly a stranger and very uncomfortable.
- "Hello!"
Silence.
- "I'm from ... (I named my city). Not busy here?"
Silence.
- "Where do you cook food here?"
At the word "food" the "student" flinched and gave me a look.
- "Busy". Finally he muttered through his teeth.
It looked not like "Busy," but like "Would you go to ...". Yeah, that means he can speak.
- "Nopeace sleeps here." It was said without aspiration, which means the notorious "Nopeace" does not pose a great threat to him, in order to tear his claws for his bunk. He just doesn't want me as a neighbor either.
- "Nothing, if he comes, I will free his place."
The newly made "neighbor" contemptuously turned his back on me.
I retired to the hall to my things. I ate. Feeding the "neighbor" was not part of my plans. Survival experience dictated that food would be wasted. I will not become his friend. I already had friends who smoked my cigarettes, ate my groceries, drank my beer, borrowed my money (and still didn’t give it back).
They may argue that it would be better to feed the neighbor in order to win his favor ... Sorry, but this does not work. It works the other way around, having fed him, I will raise him to a level higher above myself and then I will have to feed him. Paradox? Yeah ...
When I tried to return to the room behind the screen, it was curtained, the lights were out. It amused me a little, but it didn’t stop me. My experience of living in a hostel unmistakably guided me through a series of correct decisions. I calmly pushed the curtain aside, but out of politeness I didn't turn on the light, which was probably a mistake. There was a displeased grunt.
"Nopeace. He is not? So I sleep here" - I declared.
By the end of my tirade, I was already covering my mattress. Carefully, but already almost in a businesslike way, I closed the curtain, blocked the passage with a heavy stool, which the inexperienced neighbor did not think to do.
At night this stool was overcome by our third member of our newly made team, but I was already fast asleep.
II
The next morning I woke up, oddly enough on time. In the sense that there was only time left to roll the mattress and run to the audience. So I did.
The day passed unnoticed. I participated in the classes on an equal basis with the students, with the difference that I had to write everything down from the teacher's point of view. Let me remind you that I was actually a student. This duality did not bother me in the least, on the contrary, I thought that this method of teaching was more progressive.
At lunchtime, I dropped into "my" room. She was unrecognizable ... No mattresses, full of people - teachers of the Department of Medicine. There was a meeting going on, which puzzled me a little - in the midst of a class.
Then many amazing things happened in this institute. A new technique was being introduced (into which I joined without hesitation). But I will remind you that I was a student and received the status of a teacher as well. But there were teachers who were asked to become students from the beginning of the school year, that is, of the type of lowering their status. Not everyone accepted it. The institute split into two factions. On the one hand, stubborn teachers did not want to become students either. On the other hand, there are students who want to become teachers as well. There were actually two educational processes.
Having gone up to "my room", I witnessed this very "second educational process". There were "teachers" who ignored the classes and played the play "department meeting". However, they supplied the "alternative" educational process with study programs, and my task was just to collect this information as well. Which is what I did. I waited until the end of the meeting of the department, knocked about among the dispersed teachers, picked up scraps of paper with their notes. I even talked to someone. It is done. It's time for classes.
A snack? I took advantage of the empty room, brought food from the large hall, where I arranged my things between the seats. I settled down on the table, laid out the food.
And suddenly I felt that I was not alone.
Or rather, it was not quite so. Or rather, not at all.
That is, at first I really "felt" that I was not alone.
And then a lady entered the room ...
Let me remind you that I was not in the room, but in fact in the corridor, which led to the rooms proper (which were "occupied" with eyes burning in the darkness). The corridor was not a corridor either, but a square landing after the stairs. The area is partitioned off with curtains, so a corridor was formed, leading further into the rooms. And a room formed on the side, where I sat. That is, if you go up the stairs, you can immediately see me sitting on the table, since the curtains were pulled apart during the day.
Which is what happened. The lady climbed the stairs and found herself with me "face to face".
"Good afternoon!" I tried to be very, even extremely polite, as I knew this lady. I will not mention her status out of politeness.
Silence.
"I'm from ..." - I named my city. "I came for an internship."
Silence.
Then I realized how I looked. Sports suit, house slippers. I'm sitting on the table. Food is spread out. That is, it is clearly not a teacher by sight. And the lady was not dressed in sportswear. And obviously she had breakfast at home.
But I was struck by her face ... Stone mask ... And empty, expressionless eyes aimed straight at me...
Although I expected at least contempt or indignation at my appearance and inappropriate occupation in the lectern. There was nothing like that ...
Then she turned around and walked away. Just as silently.
III
So the whole working week passed. Classes. Running for teachers and begging for programs from them. Attempts to eat. So until the evening.
True, my night's sleep was provided by a bed. Nopeace, however, appeared a couple of times. He contrived to study in yet another "normal" institute, for which he apparently received a small amount of support from his parents from his village. In any case, for all the years that followed, I did not notice his employment to earn money. It seems that he did not pull out on grades for a free hostel at that institute. I moved to another bed, surviving the unlucky "neighbor" who, hissing in the dark at night, was placed on the third bed. I was lucky, three places at the same time were not occupied at night.
It so happened that one of the days of my business trip had a holiday. Army Day. For obvious reason, all men were congratulated on this day.
The Institute was empty. Several homeless students roamed the empty classrooms. I slept off, ate and lazily lay with a book in "my" room on the Nopeace's bed, enjoying peace, silence and loneliness. There were no neighbors.
And suddenly I felt that I was not alone.
Or rather, it was not quite so. Or rather, not at all.
That is, at first I really "felt" that I was not alone.
And then a lady entered the room ... Not alone, accompanied by a gentleman. A first-year student accompanied by a "student-teacher".
The lady went up the stairs. I was lying on Nopeace's bunk, my face fenced off by a book. Next came the "cavalier". He held in his hand a bottle of wine and glasses. The lady had a small sweet roll in a package in her hands. I sat down, finding myself at first sideways to the entrance, put the book down. The gentleman put wine and glasses on the next table, the lady put a roll.
During this time, I managed to get up and began to turn around to the arrivals. The festive table was already laid.
I turned around and the lady found herself with me "face to face".
"Good afternoon!" I tried to be just polite this time. I knew this lady and this teacher. I have been with them for almost a week.
Silence.
"Happy Holidays!" - just in case, I said.
Silence.
Then I realized that they came to Nopeace. No, not like this. Then I was so dumbfounded that I did not understand anything.
The lady came to Nopeace. Rather, I thought so before the events of today. The cavalier did not understand anything. As I...
And I was struck by her face ... Stone mask ... And empty expressionless eyes, directed straight at me.
And I expected at least some smiles, congratulations, toasts. There was nothing like that ...
We drank the wine in silence. We finished the roll. At the end of the "party" the guy's face turned into the same stone mask.
It seems to me, too.
Then the lady got up, turned around and left. Just as silently. The guy followed her.
IV
But now my glorious business trip has come to an end. I was going home not without sadness. It was Sunday. I don’t remember who suggested that the time of the business travelers should be arranged this way. The instructor went on a business trip on Sunday evening. In the morning, right from the train, he got to classes. I also left on Sunday and got to classes on Monday morning already in my city. Thus, it was possible to immerse the teacher as much as possible in the educational process and increase the travel time. Note that at the expense of the teacher's personal time. Although, I must confess, I understood that all my free time would be spent on mastering the material. So I would have added time, but everything was calculated and so "back to back".
It turned out that on Monday I would already be teaching the material I had received in a week. And I had time to process what I received, albeit in my own time. But the teachers to whom I brought the material will not have such an opportunity. They will have to give out material from my "papers". In any case, the first day, then pull up.
Indulging in such gloomy, but inspiring thoughts, I collected my simple baggage. That is, my thoughts of "working order" - about the upcoming teaching were full of enthusiasm. I collected everything that could be gathered from the information. I even doubted that all this could be conveyed through the educational process. But my physical condition was not very good. I haven't been in the shower for a week. I ate whatever. I slept ... well, I've already told about this. True, the economy pleased. I didn't pay for the stay. And being constantly within the walls of the institute made it possible to pump out the maximum data from the teaching system.
So consoling myself, scratching myself dissatisfied ... Here I was lying - the shower was not so bad. I washed myself regularly in the toilet from the sink. In fact, everything sang in me, I was full of strength and hope.
For all these gatherings and reflections, I did not notice a female person near me ...
I probably wasn't surprised. This lady was constantly here. As I thought, she came to Nopeace. But today Nopeace was ... But I didn't think about where Nopeace is now. Moreover, I shamelessly rejoiced in his absence, since this provided me, so dearly valued by teachers, privacy.
In general, I packed my things. The lady stood pillar in the middle of the room.
I don’t remember us talking. Or rather, most likely we did not speak.
Then I remembered only one phrase. It looks like it was actually the only one.
"Are you leaving? I'll accompany you."
I started to deny it out of politeness.
Silence.
I realized that I did not have much choice and shrugged resignedly.
Then I foolishly thought that she would help me carry my things. I made a mistake.
So we are a strange couple - I, loaded with things, and she with empty hands rode the bus from the institute building to the subway, went down to the subway, drove part of the way.
And so we stood at the last station, waiting for the subway train. This train was already going to the station directly.
Then, to my surprise, I softly but firmly declared that I would go further alone. The fact is that I was gradually seized by the fear that this lady was determined to go with me to my city. And for some reason the only thing that confused me was that I had bought only one ticket.
Silence.
I got on the train that came up. I looked around. The lady remained on the platform.
I was struck by her stone face. And the look of unblinking eyes fixed on me ...
V
Stone face. Fixed eyes. I would say slightly enlarged eyes. But without the characteristic sparkle of interest. The eyes fixed me rather than looking at me, studying or interested.
After quite a long time, I saw a similar look once ...
But now, perhaps, it's time to tell how it all began. Not chronologically, but from the moment of understanding what happened. Rather, it happened to me for quite a long time ...
So when I got it all figured out. That is, when the moment of insight came, after which everything took on a purely descriptive form. Now I can write a thick volume of research, observation and conclusion.
And then this moment of insight happened just a couple of days ago.
I live in the village. Came for the summer months. I work remotely. Rather, I have been working for many years to turn this work into remote work. All day I sit by the computer. Although life requires constant movement in order to survive. But more about that some other time.
Living in a village it is difficult not to take advantage of the opportunity that has come up and not to walk "in the fresh air". In general, there is fresh air all around ... I walk to the forest and back. It takes about half an hour.
Here you need to add an important detail that may seem insignificant, but played a key role in this story.
I go for a walk with a shovel ... Yes, yes - with a real shovel. Ground digging tool. Completely iron, only the handle at the end has a plastic cover. Heavy.
It all started with this shovel ... No, not like that ... This shovel became a catalyst ... It became an incentive ...
It is better to describe the situation itself, and then draw some conclusions. But the find is too good! Catalyst shovel. The shovel is the key to everything.
So I went for another walk. To the forest.
Damn, there are so many details! And important details. And it is better to mention these details in order to draw the full picture of what happened.
Let's try a list.
1. Shovel.
2. Unmown grass.
3. Theft of the forest.
Perhaps these three components of this tangle of events should be mentioned.
Now let's expand item number one.
I have had a craving for martial arts for a long time. A couple of years ago, here in the village, I was mastering kata with a stick. Instead of real "joe" I used a shovel handle. Wood. Having mastered the kata with a handle, I tried it with a shovel. The same one. At first, I waved it with enthusiasm, came up with a couple of exercises to strengthen the hands, which I did on the way to the forest. Then the enthusiasm faded, but somehow I got used to carrying a shovel with me and never parted with it. Over time, I noted the following with satisfaction. If at first it was not easy to carry this heavy instrument, the hands were buzzing upon returning home. By now I hardly notice it. The instrument became an "extension of the hand".
Self-defense was the initial motivation for carrying a shovel. A walk in the forest is a rather dangerous activity. The forest is full of animals. Mosquitoes - a mosquito net saves from them. And what about wild boars, moose, wolves? Even a very disgruntled fox can be dangerous. Once I was almost attacked by seagulls, but that's a completely different story.
In general, the presence of something long and heavy in the hand is very conducive to a good mood.
And most importantly, people. Mushroom pickers are armed with knives, sometimes of amazing sizes. Tourists with guard dogs. Drunk "on vacation". Hunters with guns - these come in the late afternoon.
And see point 3 - people stealing the forest. These can be the most dangerous. And more on that later.
So this year, the neighbors spoiled my mood with special zeal ... Therefore, my section of the street was mowed down unpretentious, but it's hard to find fault --it is clear that they were mowing. The area near the house is poorly mowed . And behind --not mowed at all.
Why is it important ?. Because this year the grass and weeds are especially dense. This is the warming of the climate. By the way, I can tell you separately that when I first came to the village a couple of years ago, the weeds And the weather this year is warm and rainy. In general, the grass in the rear area is practically impassable. And the last couple of years the weeds are taller than me.
And for a walk, I go through the back section. Now it is clear?
These days, because of the unmown grass, I was forced to go for a walk through the village, and not, as usual, through my backyard. I walked along the main street (and it is alone), past all the houses. Then I walked out onto the road that runs past the village. Cars drive along this road. From the forest. And into the forest.
And I moved towards. Down this road. And it so happened that at the same time a team of lumberjacks was returning. Which took the stolen logs out of the forest. And the customer was waiting for them at the crossroads. That is, I walked by at the moment when the transfer of the stolen logs to the buyer was to take place.
Here I can be interrupted and corrected. They say you are mistaken. They are honest, kind, good people. Yes, they were driving from a forest with logs. It is a crime? And they met their good old friend.
And I do not mind that they are kind and good people. But are they honest? If they were honest, they would not take out logs from the forest, but garbage and branches for processing. Since their license is most likely for clearing the forest, and not for felling.
Why do I think so? And I watched their work all summer. It so happened that where I walk in the woods, they were just engaged in felling. Moreover, there are trees marked with red paint for felling - obviously bad, but they did not touch them. And obviously good trees were cut down. And they did not take out the branches and garbage. On the contrary, they dirtied the forest with their garbage and the branches from their cutting only became more. And they knocked down a lot of young, good forest, making their way to their chosen trees. The forest there now looks like after the bombing.
And why did these honest people, seeing me, out of fright unload the logs at the edge of the village, and not take them to their old friend, who was waiting for them at the crossroads?
And you will laugh ... But the next day I went for a walk again. Believing in the honesty of people. And the situation repeated itself. Again I met the lumberjacks. A good old friend was waiting for them again. Probably again he was passing by by chance. Again, they had to dump the logs at the edge of the village.
Although I am not describing all this in order to bring someone to clean water.
And for what?
This is where we get to the point. When I went for a walk again, they were already waiting for me. The same "old friend". By car. I reviewed it. A young man with a decent black beard in the current fashion. Strong physique.
This time he was sitting in the car. Lowering the side window. A girl from our village stood at the door. I never spoke to her. Only greeted from afar.
This time she did not greet me. And she began to quickly approach me.
"Why are you walking here?"
I was not surprised.
"I'm for a walk here ..."
It looks like she was not amused by the hidden humor in the answer.
"Why with a shovel? What are you digging there?"
I began to explain that I was not digging anything. And the shovel is for training. And defiantly began to twist the shovel in his hand.
"Look, there are timber trucks here ..."
"What do I care about timber trucks?"
I began to turn around politely but decisively, turning my side to her, making it clear that the conversation was over.
But she was already leaving.
Interesting dialogue? No.
The content of the dialogue is interesting. And it was filled with hidden meaning.
Well, at first glance. What are people usually told? Note - to semi-familiar people. With whom, note again, we have never spoken before. They only greeted.
That's right, they say "Sorry!" "Sorry!" "May I bother you for a moment?"
Then. You need to have a weighty reason in order to approach a person so easily.
Is it more interesting now?
What happened?
1. I was brazenly stopped.
2. I was unceremoniously interrogated.
3. And most importantly. I was threatened!
Take a look at my answers. I made excuses. As if I was to blame!
And yet, in my place, in such a situation, even a very polite person would not talk. After the very first words "Why are you walking here?"
But I understood the context of the dialogue!
So I made excuses. Because I was grateful.
Grateful? For what?
For not being killed. Which is unlikely. But probably. Let me remind you that I witnessed a crime.
I was grateful not to be beaten. But this was very likely.
And now you can see the situation in a completely different light.
They came up to me and made mercy ... Yes, yes! They just did me good! Warned. And at that limit of politeness that criminals are capable of. In this situation. When I distract them from stealing. Have you tried taking a bone from a dog?
Let's get back to the dialogue. Let's translate what is happening into the language of animals.
They growled at me. And I whimpered in response. And then, I set my tail between my legs, I ran away.
Although not quite I with my tail between my legs and not quite I'm whining.
Recall that I held a shovel in my hand and even twisted it in the air.
Perhaps the shovel saved me...
But I did not mention the most important thing.
Try to guess ...
Correctly!
Stopped, motionless eyes. Stone face.
How did you guess?
---
Trap II
Or Maybe I'm a Criminal?
Why are detective stories read so sweetly and excitingly, where it’s not completely clear who the criminal is. Since the reader makes himself part of the plot and is afraid that they will blame him.
So in life, people try either not to attract attention in difficult situations or start to get nervous, speak exaggeratedly loudly thereby attracting attention to themselves. It is because of the complex "Or maybe I am a criminal?"
Teachers often use this to mobilize the audience. "Among you there are some who ..." And everyone feels guilty.
Which exit? Of course, some tricky way out of the situation is expected here? And here it is not! Since this method of subordinating the collective to itself has been used since the appearance of the collective itself, and not a man invented it. This is a challenge to the battle with the statement "I am the leader of the pack!" And it must be answered, otherwise it will be difficult to live in this team. Need to answer the call!
Well, now a tricky move. Any way out, but not humiliated silence and guilty whimpering, will do. Even a clumsy attempt to make a joke, a meaningless phrase, a stupid act. For example, I once responded to this at school, "And this is Me!" So what happened? But nothing! The teacher put me at the blackboard for a short while. But I answered!
---
Trap III
I served in the army. Two years. In the army, everything is based on violence. That is, you are forced to do everything under the threat of physical harm. It's pretty scary, constantly waiting for a blow, often for nothing, it's just that someone didn't like you. Everyone is afraid, but everyone finds a way out of this situation in a peculiar way. The most cheerful way out of the situation was found by one soldier from my platoon. Let's call this person "M". No, perhaps he deserves to be called by his full name. Oops, I forgot his name ... Okay, let's call him "Meshurik".
So that's it. Meshurik was rather puny ... not thin, but not very broad-shouldered. And most importantly, he was short. One of the smallest in our platoon. In connection with such a physique, his fate could have been unenviable. Soldiers beat often the weakest, who cannot stand up for themselves. Moreover, they beat their own colleagues, taking away cigarettes and food. And they are forced to work instead of themselves.
So this Meshurik suddenly began to speak in a bass voice. It was funny at first. Those who knew him from the first days, including myself, remembered that his voice matched his physique ... Oops, but I don't remember what his voice was ... Most likely "none". But his new "bass" was heard by everyone!
It started with ... songs.
We arrived at the unit with a whole platoon from a training camp, where we were trained to walk quite well in formation and with a song.
And here we are in the unit. The first time we go to the dining room.
From the barracks, soldiers rushed into the street, who were trained here, in this unit.
Disordered crowd, swearing, blows of fists on the head, whistling of sergeants' belts, cigarettes in the hands of those who are stronger.
And then we leave, our platoon. We ran out into the street carefully, in a column one by one, without a crush. We ran out, quickly began to form, even ranks, strictly in height. We froze.
The rest sullenly "lined up" in an uneven crowd. As they say in the army, "How the bull pissed."
It was impressive. We were impressed.
Received the command "Step march".
And suddenly a voice rang out ... The voice of Meshurik ... A voice that no one had heard before ...
And now everyone has heard!
It was a thick bass: "Sing the song!"
And we sang. And Meshurik sang. He was heard best of all.
The days of the service dragged on gloomily. Soon we stopped singing songs. Learned to walk in a discordant crowd. Divided into strong and weak. We learned to take away cigarettes and food from each other.
And Meshurik continued to speak in a bass ...
And here's what I'll say. They did not beat him ... At the table in the dining room, he sat in the middle, that is, closer to the food. He smoked something ... He looked good, his clothes were clean enough - that is, he was not forced to work.
But all he had to survive was his acquired bass ...
---
They will ask me.
"Where's the Trap? Singing or what?"
But you guessed it!
Remember the command "Sing the song!" From an ordinary soldier. During the war, for such a violation of the chain of command, he could have been shot ...
But this was done very nicely, delicately and sincerely. Like stealing by a cat, everyone's favorite, a piece of sausage from the table.
But they will ask me rhetorically.
"But did this rally your platoon? Have you become more friendly? Has it become easier for you to serve?"
And I will answer.
"Yes. But this undermined the authority of the platoon commander. It was he who was supposed to "rally our platoon", make us "friendlier", and "service easier".
---
Trap IV
I then recalled another theory, "in captivity" of which I was. Presumably located ... speculatively ...
Allegedly, the eye itself releases rays. The rays are reflected from the object, and then fall back into the eye, forming an image there. In my opinion, I even saw such a picture in a school textbook.
What if since then I started trying to "emit" rays from my eyes, trying to remember the text of the textbook? It's hard to say ... Or rather, I didn't think about it from this point of view ... I thought that I was straining my neck muscles, imitating the effort to remember the text I was reading. Or the teacher's words?
What came first? Reading or listening? That is, I first started trying to remember the speech of the teacher at school? Or did I start trying to remember the text I was reading first? What then became a habit? What makes the muscles tense? The sound of the teacher's stern voice, which makes me shudder, press my head into my shoulders and do my best to portray on my face ... but what's on my face - in my whole body there is an intense effort to remember every letter of what was said ... Biting, crushing sounds of the voice ... Loud, hysterical. What voices I just did not hear enough at school ...
What should a teacher do? How to get the attention of slobs? His weapon is his voice. How to enforce discipline? In the absence of a stick.
Now what? Is there a teacher's voice between me and my "independent thinking"? Rather, my personal reaction to the voice. To be sure, my muscular reaction.
Muscle barrier, wall. How can this wall be destroyed?
Relax? Nice technique, but it works with the result. That is, "after" the muscles have tensed. Plus time for stressing awareness. And you need "while" the voice sounds.
The wall ... Is there a clue here? How to destroy a wall?
Or maybe not destroy, but somehow differently? I built this wall. Trying to protect myself from the unpleasant timbre of the teacher's voice.
Maybe some kind of speculative theory that I applied in my imagination is working here again?
So the voice. Oscillation of air, acoustic wave. Let us recall the pictures of the propagation of sound waves from a school textbook. Sound frequency, timbre. Somewhere I have met such tuning knobs ... Timbre adjustment is a knob in the radio receiver. A sound wave causes something to vibrate in the ear ... and it travels along nerves to the brain.
In school, I learned to "mute" the teacher's voice by focusing on something else. That is, connecting the imagination. But the muscle reaction remained.
If you again try to bypass these sound theories with your own theory?
Let's try. Take my field theory. Suppose, just suppose that the transfer of information from person to person during a conversation is carried out not only by voice. However, there are already scientific theories for this. Communication with gestures, facial expressions and even smell. I need my own fantastic theory.
So field communication. I have a field, I am sitting in a lesson. The teacher has a field, he teaches a physics lesson. The vibrations of the fields are superimposed and instead of physics, I understand that I am a bastard. This is what the teacher really wanted to convey to me. He didn't get enough sleep today and in general he doesn't like me. His field informed me of this and I naturally tensed, expecting a blow. And I got it - a psychological blow. Transferred to me already by my field. Echoes of the teacher's field. Let me remind you, I'm in class. All is attention. Susceptible to the slightest hesitation emanating from the teacher.
Although the mood of the teacher could be guessed by the timbre of the voice, and by facial expressions, and by gestures and even smells. That is, quite scientific.
The next day, this teacher's lesson was doing well. But I tensed anyway, this time trying not to anger him. Now my field conveyed my mood to his field and he realized that I was a bastard. Again a psychological blow. And so it became a habit? May be...
Perhaps it was the other way around. I didn't get enough sleep ... and so on.
And until now, even with the word "physics", my muscles immediately react.
It seems like I've found another barrier between me and my "independent thinking".
Are these the teachers? The same barrier?
It is necessary, of course, to take into account the influence of other people on me. But I believe that this is largely my personal speculative link "teacher - subject". Why am I associating a subject with a specific teacher of that subject? Why is physics practically closed for me by the personality of a physics teacher? And one! Because he himself thought so (that "Physics" is him) - our fields have combined - has this idea penetrated into my field? Maybe ... Or I myself created this speculative bundle in order to now enjoy sweet revenge and ignore physics, thereby ignoring the teacher.
One way or another, these bundles will have to be removed. As I come across in my life one or another area of science.
How to clean? I still like the methods for work more than theoretical research.
So there are several ways.
1. Change of personal orientation. Having looked through books on physics, I was amazed to find that there are many other teachers.
2. Forming your opinion. One may ask: "In physics !? So for this you have to be a physicist !?" I believe that you can form your opinion even in anecdotes. Not funny? Correct the anecdote to make it funny. Especially in physics, where theories are often reversed. But before that, it is not bad to test item 1, otherwise the confrontation with the former teacher may reach a new level.
3. Creation of fantastic theories. This is the one I like the most. Gives itself importance. Helps to be a "researcher", overcoming the level of "follower". This is where my fantastic ideas may appear.
4. Field correction. This is one of the fantastic ideas. Even focusing on the concept of "my field" helps to jump out, for example, from suddenly surging emotions - "to control myself". Further, there may be correction techniques.
5. Transformation of an uncomfortable experience into a comfortable one. Find the positive impact of the event. For example, in this case (with physics) I am very glad that thanks to these events I did not go deep into the study of this science, but spent time on something else - I began to do what I am doing now.
6. Testing yourself for the presence of a psychological complex "annoy the teacher". Becomes a habit. I begin to do bad deeds, acquire "bad" habits. I try to "spoil" the mood of others. Here, by the way, the probable reason for my strange disregard of physical activity was revealed. This is not physics. Not all evil comes to me from there :). Again the resonance of the fields is only with a different teacher. Physical education.
Here I consider it necessary to note that this is not a "witch hunt". Don't hunt evil and terrible monsters. Teachers here act as ... teachers. I am looking for my personal attitude to the events of my life. And the teacher here is like a beacon, in general in his role. And I am very grateful to the teachers for this. Over the years, I still learn from them.
And the resonance of the fields is a necessity, an integral part of communication. And harmonization of fields is a practice, possibly useful for all participants in communication.
7. Avoiding personal orientation. Formation of an understanding of the subject regardless of the personality of the teacher, scientist, author of the book. This is practically meditation. How to separate Newton's law from the personality of Newton himself? After I formulated the problem, it became clear how? And it turns out to be easy? After all, this is the dependence of force on mass and speed. What does Newton have to do with it?
I'll tell you what. By linking a law, a principle, a theory to anyone's name, you confuse your nerve cells. Because you think at the same time about the "dependence of force on mass and speed" and a specific person.
In nature, an individual "thinks" mainly only about the leader of the pack.
I'll say it differently, so that it doesn't sound so offensive ...
To survive in the pack, you need to constantly be aware of the decisions of the leader. In order not to be punished by this leader. But what is most important? To catch the danger signal in time (approach of a predator, fire, pursuit of prey, conflict within the pack), since all information flows to the leader from the sentinels and from the rest of the pack.
The conclusion now suggests itself. If you keep the image of Newton in your head, then you expect from him not useful information about the structure of Nature, but a signal to escape or divide the spoils. Include survival instincts. You are waiting for ready-made solutions. And you, for example, solve the problem in physics yourself. And you need analysis, reflection. And in nature, only the leader of the pack can think, analyze and, most importantly, make decisions.
And now it is clear what stands between me and the memory. This is the position. More precisely positioning, status. My status as an ordinary member of the pack.
But what if you appoint yourself as a leader? The leader of his memory, his body. In order for me to receive information from the "sentinels of science" - the creators of theories and formulas. And also from the teachers who analyze and report to me the situation in the "jungle of science".
And by the way, who feeds scientists and teachers? Who buys the books? Who pays for the lectures and lessons at the school? Here is another contradiction that confuses your body. You actually support the person, feed, that is, you are the leader. But you literally put it in your head. As an authority in science. Like a leader. And do you want to remember the theory he created?
Here I will make a reservation. And throughout the conversation on this topic I will often stipulate that we are talking about the internal states of a person. That is, you need to become the leader of your body, and not seize power in a school class or student audience. That is, we are talking about the relationship between myself and my personality. And not about my relationship as a social unit. This is an attempt to remove the barriers between me and my memory. And not a revolution in science with the failure of the foundations.
That is, outwardly, nothing changes for me. I go out to the school board. I declare: "Newton's Law". But to my body (very quietly so that no one except me can hear) I whisper: "the dependence of strength on mass and speed."
So ... Now there is a problem. Another obstacle on the way to "independent thinking".
The leader is in my head. Which distracts from independent thinking, activating the ancient instincts of survival in the pack. Who is he? Who is this mysterious character?
Suppose, just suppose it's anyone who's stuck in their head. At the same time, we will stipulate that this is my initiative - to keep it in my head. The leader himself may not even know me personally.
Then freeing the head from the leaders is the path to independent thinking.
And what about the methods? Here, for example, you can apply the technique I once developed for switching between the right and left halves of the brain. What for? So it seems obvious ... If someone's image persistently crawls into the head ... And one half of the brain actively participates in imaginative thinking ... Now it is clear why this particular technique is useful here?
---
Trap V
As a child, I attended runner competitions. I was struck by the manner in which one of them ran. He ran with his chest stretched out so far forward that it seemed impossible to bend so hard. Since then, when I was running, I tried to stick out my chest like this.
Then my stoop began to develop. I started practicing the Cobra Pose (from yoga). In general, the spine has formed quite evenly.
By my youth, however, and still, I began to clearly slouch.
And where is the "protruding chest"?
Paradox?
This runner ran a long way, throwing his legs forward. It seemed that he was not running, but jumping. The feet are parallel. And he slapped with his feet, placing them firmly on the ground. How did this affect my gait? I walk like a penguin, spreading my legs rather to the sides. Unstable, noiseless.
He also protruded strongly and lifted his chin. I walk with my head down.
In the wild, animals usually run around with their heads down and sniffing. If the chin is straight and elongated, the state of attention. Chin forward and upward - aggression. Chest forward - aggression. "Spanking" or rather "stomping" with your feet is a challenge.
That is, his example suppressed me rather than inspired me.
---
Trap VI
The famous Confucius quote: "Do not do to others what you...", etc.
Does everyone know that this was Confucius's answer to the question?
Did anyone pay attention to the question itself?
Perfectly!
Now, attention ...
Well, probably, you yourself understand what's the matter?
But still, find a dialogue in Chinese, translate it into an understandable language. It is even more interesting to compare different translation options.
Has anyone paid attention to some inconsistencies in the answer now?
Most likely, these are not quite inconsistencies. We see in this dialogue only what we know from childhood from numerous sources. For example, I remember this phrase of Confucius: "Do not do to others what you ...", etc. Rather, it is someone's translation. Possibly inaccurate. Or what has been stuck in my memory.
---
Trap VII
Self-complacency. "I have nothing to do with this ..."
You can always do something! At least a little. If you don't, it leaves a stain on your conscience due to indifference to yourself, irritation, etc.
I gave my seat to two ladies on the bus (I was with my luggage and took two seats).
But first I sat and tried to persuade my conscience.
"I have nothing to do with this" ...
“I can't stand on this bus,” I admonished myself.
"The driver has no right to load the bus like that!" - I tried to shift the blame onto someone else.
As a result, I got up ...
As a result, I blocked the aisle with my luggage (the seats were in front), and people, making their way down the aisle of the bus, created inconvenience to the passenger sitting opposite me (across the aisle). He muttered to me : “You'd better be sitting! ..”
It was rude, but I didn't feel negative about him. Then he figured it out - he regretted that he had done nothing for these ladies. It was not anger at me, it was a torment of conscience.
---
Trap VIII
Reading books with the personification of yourself in the image of the main characters
For example, "I am d'Artagnan".
A person may seek to feed friends at someone else's expense. Let's remember the book.
May sleep longer because he needs to get enough sleep to be ready for new adventures.
May skip shaving: “This is not the point now! After all, tomorrow - on a horse! "
Can lend money and not give it back. Well, "All for one!" Or how is it in the book?
---
Trap IX
Thirst for revenge
The loud and terrible definition hides quite peaceful and everyday situations.
I was losing at cards and I wanted to win back.
Wanting to fight back after a fight?
Shit on a neighbor in exchange for his dastardly actions?
Tell an even funnier anecdote in the campaign?
In short, it is a waste of time and health.
---
Addressless "Thirst for revenge"
This is when I smack not the one who offended me, but the first person I meet. Depends on the mood. I was "pissed off".
---
Trap X
Misunderstanding what bacteria and viruses are
At some percentage, this is the absence of Faith.
Maybe the person did not find a sufficiently authoritative person to explain to him.
And perhaps most importantly, it is the rejection of their own experience. Negative experience.
Or a positive experience. What cannot be paid attention to the production of wine and yogurt? Is souring milk and turning it into yogurt a miracle?
---
Trap XI
"Termoregulation"
As a child, I did not understand the connection between hypothermia and subsequent colds.
Over time, I noticed leaps in thermoregulation.
1. After meals and during meals. Especially if I eat / drink something hot. The body sweats a lot and it seems that the room is hot. Then it goes away.
2. After a shower.
3. After physical exertion.
It would seem that I am talking about famous things. But I know people for whom this is not obvious. The person believes that the room is stuffy, does not associate it with food or a shower.
And physical activity is rarely associated with attacks of suffocation and sweating. I once trained in a gym with good ventilation, but people in the winter opened the windows in this gym, literally freezing the room, because they felt stuffy.
---
Trap XII
Association Principle
If a person sees another person for the first time, he most likely associates him “in his own perception” with one of his acquaintances.
It's easier. So nature dictates. So survival dictates.
Let him convince himself on the way that he is running in vain.
"So it was some kind of new kind of hamster! He is certainly too big ... But he is very cute! Such an overgrown hamster ..."
Survival requires that a person does not waste time searching and studying a new object, but flees.
"No! It's a bear cub." So Survival Speaks.
I call this the principle of association.
---
Trap XIII
Am I thinking in terms of sports? This refers to thinking in terms of sports in ordinary everyday situations. When I walk the streets, for example.
An acquaintance of mine drove a car as if he was participating in a race. He seemed to consider every driver overtaking him a personal enemy and tried with all his might to prevent overtaking.
Therefore, on the way with him there were situations that could be called curious, if these situations would not have been so dangerous.
He always drove on the extreme "fast" lane. The lane is intended for overtaking. It looks like he considered it his streak. But at the intersection, the outer lane is intended for turning cars. He stubbornly refused to readjust before the intersection, and therefore got into the thick of cars preparing to turn. And then he needs to go straight! With terrible curses, right at the intersection, he began to rebuild into the correct lane.
One more case. The road sometimes has three lanes, sometimes two. So my friend, since in principle he drove only in the extreme lane, usually did not notice the moment the road turned from three-lane to two-lane. And he confidently continued to drive in the oncoming lane. At a decent speed.
"What bastards!"
So he characterized the cars approaching him on the same lane.
---
Trap XIV
I am a big debater.
I heard somewhere that if a politician is silent, it means the categorical "No!" But this is not very polite. There, they are embroiled in empty debate. Them can talk a lot, but not say anything.
I had a friend who spent hours telling the contents of the films he watched. He was then appointed to a managerial position.
But I try to fill my speech with "Meaning." Perhaps in emptying from the"Meaning" is the Key. ... But it key to"managerial position". Need to search elsewhere.
Another friend of mine talked for hours about himself.
I had a friend who could spend hours telling people what to do. He gathered halls of 500 students.
Another friend of mine could be silent for hours.
In general, I'm looking …
---
Trap XV
"Helping People"
One of my acquaintances was a very big supporter of helping people. For many years he took part in various good deeds with pleasure. What he did not regret.
For example, he participated in a large, interesting, and for him exciting, process of creating a new institute.
He implemented many of his ideas there, which brought him even more pleasure with the process.
But somehow it so happened that when they started talking about the owners of the institute, he was not among them. It did not bother him then. After all, he did not come there for business. At first, he did not even receive money in the form of a salary, he lived on occasional earnings.
The new owners offered him a good position in the future, but so far without a salary. He gladly pounced on the newly opened field of activity.
As long as he had the opportunity to realize his ideas, he was ready for any conditions.
But as the years passed, he noticed that his ideas were being implemented with increasing difficulty. And he is increasingly becoming a performer of other people's ideas.
He even resigned himself to this, pushing his ideas through other people in the process of following the directions of the leadership.
During this time, instead of the promised position in the leadership of the institute, he has already begun to act as a lower-level manager, albeit with a salary.
Once he was mowing grass on the site of one of the new owners of "his" institute. Well, yes, he enjoyed working on this suburban area. On weekends. The management did not pay him money for this work. True, he was fed ... Well, then fresh air, he could swim in the river. Collect mushrooms in the nearby forest. True, the mushrooms he collected were taken by the hostess of the house. She then froze (his mushrooms) and, together with the owner of the plot, ate them at home in winter. He was given a plate of mushrooms at dinner. Once after coming from the forest.
So, one day he was mowing the grass and thought that he was doing a great and good job, helping people. He thought with pleasure that by freeing the owner of the institute from this hard routine work, he (owner) would contribute to the prosperity of the institute. Since more time (of owner) will be spent on "great things".
Suddenly, his lofty thoughts and pleasure from work were rudely interrupted ...
“Hey you! ...” A rough, unceremonious commanding voice rang out.
In amazement, he turned around.
At first he did not notice anyone.
He approached the fence that separated "his" site from the neighbor's.
On the other side of the fence was a little girl.
She put her hands on her hips. And looked down at him. Top-down. How she did it (looked down, top-down), he did not understand.
"They say you are crazy ... You carry out all the orders that you are given ..."
How the little girl could put so much contempt and disrespect into her voice, he did not understand.
He smiled sweetly and went on to mow.
---
Trap XVI
At the time this strange incident happened, I was studying at the same institute. Now the profile of the institute, its location is not important.
On that remarkable day, I defended my master's thesis.
I am a person of modest academic talents, I didn’t study well at school, I spent time reading books, and in high school I got carried away with music recordings.
But as my math teacher used to say, "He can when He want."
Well, then I could.
All members of the commission recognized my master's thesis as a worthy doctoral degree. With the enthusiastic support of the audience. A lot of people came to see my dissertation presentation.
Spiritualized as if on wings, I flew out of the audience.
Walking along the corridor, I accidentally heard the rumble of laughter coming from the accounting department.
And the exclamation of the rector's wife:
"What doctor of sciences is he ?! He cannot hammer a nail! ..."
I shrugged and walked on. I was now a Doctor of Science, and my dissertation was in the medical field. Nail?!
"Nail ... Nail ... Na-a-a-a-a ..." I hummed as I continued walking down the corridor.
Stop!
Well, of course!
I remembered what it has to do with ...
Short Introduction 1
After school, I tried to go to institute. It's unfortunate. My preparation was so-so ... By the way, sometimes I sit at the computer with a nostalgic, indulgent smile. Do you know what my specialty would be if I entered that institute and graduated from it? "Operator of an electronic computer".
So, after the failure with the institute, I began to master professions, trying to somehow break through in life.
I worked in the construction of buildings. By the way, about nails. I worked in construction for a decent amount of time. Slinger. Electrician (graduated from college). Stone mason (finished courses).
And speaking of nails, concrete carpenter. For those who are not in the know. A concrete carpenter spends part of his time building concrete form-work. Nails are used to fasten the form-work. Lots of nails. And I scored them. I scored decently.
Developing the topic. I spent another year mastering the profession of a shoemaker. Graduated from college. I worked in a shoe making workshop. Not for long, a few months. But the norm, 5 pairs of shoes per shift, I did. A shoemaker uses a lot of nails in his work.
So I can say that the hammer was for me, if not an extension of my hand ... But almost there ...
Well, in general, I had the hammer in my hands more than once.
Short Introduction 2
To make it clearer what I’m leading to, it’s a good idea to preface the story with another introduction. Dedicated to how I ended up in a suburban area, in the rector's country house.
A few years before the events described, I, as usual in the summer, did not swim or sunbathe, but prepared the premises of the institute for the beginning of classes. The same institute where I later received my doctorate.
The rector rested at his country house, occasionally arriving for the usual summer set-up meetings with the faculty.
At that time, the institute was in the stage of formation and had only a physical culture and health-improving base and a general education one. There was a lack of a medical component for the complete formation of the educational process.
I attended these classes. And so the talk came about that it would be nice to start training medicine teachers now and without delay to introduce it by the beginning of the school year.
The rector's wife jumped up. After all, it turned out that their summer vacation came to an end, since summer training would require the presence of the rector in the classroom.
"The gallery in my house is collapsing! I propose an exchange. Come and fix the gallery, I will let the rector go to classes."
That's how I got to repair the rector's country house. Or rather gallery. In exchange for the institute to have medicine in its repertoire. But I didn't mind. In fact, I provided classes for myself.
End of intros.
---
We repaired the gallery. There were several other male volunteer teachers with me. And one female teacher who prepared food for us.
Then we tweaked the foundation, made a garage for a car trailer. Well, we began to build another new gallery.
In general, we fulfilled our part of the obligations, and the rector spent the whole summer in his studies at the institute. And with a new educational goal, the institute received medicine.
Teachers, one by one, began to disappear from suburban voluntary work. I and the woman (mobilized to prepare the food) remained.
The rector and I were finishing the interior decoration of the new gallery, and the female volunteer helped with weeding potatoes, planting flowers, watering, etc.
And so my story reached its final stage. Let's remember the nail!
On that memorable day ... Not for me. As it turned out, a memorable day for the rector's wife.
So, the rector and I prepared one of the anchoring transverse boards for the far wall of the new gallery. All that remained was to fix this board. With nails.
This gallery wall was adjacent to the neighbors. It was decided to fix the board from the outside in order to bend the tips of the nails from the inside. This is more aesthetically pleasing, since then the bent points will be covered with interior trim. More aesthetic but more inconvenient. As it turned out, I'm more uncomfortable.
In order to attach this board, I had to climb the fence from the neighbors' side. And the fence was right up against the gallery wall. The top of the fence is at the level where I need to attach the board.
The neighbor's dog watched my monkey movements with surprise, so I did not climb into the neighboring territory.
So, I am sitting on the fence. A hammer in one hand. The other hand holds a board of a decent length. With my feet I got as strong a foothold as I could. And my backside is against the sharp top edge.
In this position, I practically had no opportunity to swing.
How did I hold the nails? Well, they were in my pocket.
The board was to be attached to the outer transverse row of boards. And another board was held by the rector, pressing it longitudinally against the wall from the inside. That is, with one nail I have to fasten three boards together.
The fence was flimsy enough. I swayed slightly on it. I tried it on. Go!
It was already dark outside. Light streamed through narrow slits from the gallery. This helped me. Little. But the board that the rector was holding was not visible to me. That is, you will have to fix it almost "at random".
And I hammered the first nail.
There was a satisfied cry from the rector. That is, I got it. I was a little surprised. And I continued.
Here it must be added that in addition to everything else, the nails had to pass through the boards not through the middle, but closer to the edge, so as not to split the board.
I continued.
Second nail. Good luck!
Third nail.
Fourth.
Fifth...
Suddenly the sleepy silence of the village was broken by a wild, inhuman cry. The dogs barked. The neighbors' lights came on. The song of the party on the other side of the village died down. A frightened pike splashed in a sleepy river flowing nearby and sank to the bottom.
"Well, judging by the reaction, I pierced the rector with a nail through and through ..." I thought.
The scream, meanwhile, turned into a roar.
"Mi-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-s-s-s-ed!"
The nail went past the rector's board.
"Nothing, it happens ..." I immediately calmed down. But the nail stitched together at least two boards reliably.
And, in spite of the still displeased gurgle from behind the wall ("He missed, he missed ..."), I continued.
Sixth.
Seventh.
Eighth.
.........
I was already at the edge of the board, as everything repeated.
The village seems to have begun to get used to it. The pike splashed and paid no attention. The neighbor's dog yawned sleepily.
This time the scream was
"Mi-i-i-i-i-i-i-d-d-dle!"
This time I was not scared. Shrugged.
"The board is almost fixed. A nail in the middle will not damage it now." I thought.
And, in spite of the still displeased gurgle from behind the wall ("He ... middle, he ... middle ..."), I continued.
As an encore artist, I made my way back up the fence. With a modest smile, full of well-deserved pride, I entered the gallery.
The very pleased rector enthusiastically folded the ends of the protruding nails.
I admired my work. Not bad, not good ... Everything is almost even. One nail past, one in the middle. Just!
Then I felt cold on my back. Or rather, a cold spreading horror.
With a stupid self-satisfied grin, I half turned.
My smile slipped into nowhere. I was puzzled.
Along the wall, three women stood in a row like soldiers on the parade ground. The only difference is they were holding onto the wall, as I later realized, so as not to fall. The lighting was not very good, but I thought they were very pale. It was the rector's wife, a female volunteer teacher, and the rector's son's wife, who had made a fortunate visit.
"And I feel sorry for him ..." babbled the wife of the rector's son and, in my opinion, began to quietly sink, sliding back along the wall.
---
More Traps :) on https://mypage.syosetu.com/1864645/
And now I wonder how to get out of all this? In the sense of the traps.
You will be surprised, but there are quite simple exercises that help me to clear my perception.
And then it will become clear to me what to do next.
If interested, look for
"Influence People". Traps of Nature. Self-salvation
