3
One evening at the end of November Yura returned from university late, very tired and haven't eaten all day. He was told, that there was a terrible alarm during the day, Anna Ivanovna had convulsions, several doctors came together, advised to send for a priest, but then they abandoned this thought. She's better now, she was conscious and ordered, as soon as Yura arrives, send it to her immediately.
Yura obeyed and, without changing clothes, went to the bedroom.
The room bore traces of recent commotion.. The nurse was moving something on the nightstand with silent movements.. There were crumpled napkins and damp compress towels lying around.. The water in the rinse was slightly pink from spitting out blood.. There were fragments of glass ampoules with broken necks and swollen pieces of cotton wool lying in it..
The patient was swimming in sweat and licking her dry lips with the tip of her tongue.. She became very thin in the morning, when Yura saw her for the last time.
— Is there a mistake in the diagnosis?? - he thought. - All signs of croup. it seems, this is a crisis. After greeting Anna Ivanovna and saying something encouragingly empty, what is always said in such cases, he sent the nurse out of the room. Taking Anna Ivanovna by the hand, to count the pulse, he reached into his jacket with his other hand for a stethoscope. With a movement of her head Anna Ivanovna indicated, that this is unnecessary. Yura understood, that she needs something different from him. Gathering your strength, Anna Ivanovna spoke:
- Here, wanted to confess... Death is looming... Maybe every minute... You're going to pull a tooth, you're afraid, hurt, getting ready... But it’s not a tooth, the whole, all of you, all my life... fragile, and there, like tongs... What is it??.. Nobody knows... And I'm sad and scared.
Anna Ivanovna was silent. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Yura didn't say anything. A minute later Anna Ivanovna continued:
- You are talented... And talent, this... is not like everyone else... You must know something... Tell me something... Calm me down.
- Well, what should I say?, - Yura answered, fidgeted restlessly in his chair, got up, walked around and sat down again. - Firstly, Tomorrow you will feel better - there are signs, I give you my head to cut off. And then - death, consciousness, faith in resurrection...
You want to know my opinion as a natural scientist? May be, at some other time? Not? Immediately? Well, as you know.
It's just so difficult, at once.
And he gave her a whole lecture impromptu, surprising himself, how did he do it.
— Resurrection. In that roughest form, as it is stated for the comfort of the weakest, this is foreign to me. And I always understood Christ’s words about the living and the dead differently. Where will you place these hordes?, collected over all millennia? The universe is not enough for them, and to God, goodness and meaning will have to get out of the world.
They will be crushed in this greedy animal crowd.
But all the time the same immensely identical life fills the universe and is renewed hourly in innumerable combinations and transformations.. So you're afraid, will you be resurrected, and you have already been resurrected, when were you born, and they didn’t notice it.
Will it hurt you, does the tissue feel its decay?? That is, in other words, what will happen to your consciousness? But what is consciousness? Let's consider. Consciously wanting to sleep is a surefire insomnia, a conscious attempt to feel the work of one’s own digestion is a sure disorder of its innervation. Consciousness is poison, self-poisoning agent for the subject, using it on oneself. Consciousness is light, outward striking, consciousness illuminates the road ahead of us, so as not to stumble. Consciousness is the lit headlights of the locomotive in front. Turn them inward with light and disaster will occur..
so, what will happen to your consciousness? yours. yours. What are you?? That's the rub. Let's figure it out. How do you remember yourself?, what part of their composition were conscious? Your kidneys, liver, vessels? Not, as far back as you can remember, you always caught yourself in the outside, active manifestation, in the works of your hands, in the family, in others. Now take a closer look. Man in other people is the soul of man. That's what you are, that's what it was breathing, ate, your consciousness has been reveling all your life. with your soul, your immortality, your life in others. And what? You were in others, in others you will remain. And what difference does it make to you, that later it will be called memory. It will be you, included in the future.
Finally, last. There's nothing to worry about. There is no death.
Death is not our thing. But you said talent, is another matter, this is ours, it is revealed to us. And talent - in the highest broadest concept - is the gift of life.
There will be no death, says John the Theologian, and listen to the simplicity of his argument. There will be no death, because the former has passed away. It's almost like: there will be no death, because you've already seen it, it's old and tired, and now we need something new, and the new is eternal life.
He paced around the room, saying this. "The Lips", - he said, going up to the bed and putting his hands on Anna Ivanovna’s head.
A few minutes have passed. Anna Ivanovna began to fall asleep.
Yura quietly left the room and said to Egorovna, so that she sends a nurse to the bedroom. - The devil knows that, He thought, - I'm becoming some kind of charlatan. I'm talking, I heal by laying on of hands. The next day Anna Ivanovna felt better.
Dr. Zhivago Poem “A meeting”
Oh * cozy work!!!
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