The Reedpipe

The main human qualities we must educate in our children ourselves, and not give them to the teachers, schools and other foreign people.As an example, you can use the author under the name Svetozar, who creates wonderful stories for his children …

When Alex went to his grandfather’s house, his grandfather was sitting on a bench and crafting something with a knife, which he always carried with him in his boot. Maybe that’s why it was called boot-knife. Or maybe the name of the knife comes from the fact that it is usually worn near the foot. On the belt or in the boot. It is always at hand when needed. Maybe will save a life when need be, or maybe will come in handy on the farm. The knife can be used in many ways. Only not a kind person thinks of it as of a weapon first. But the creator, a woodworker for example, can cut something, can create beauty. The mistress can prepare food, feed the children. Well, a witch doctor or a warrior, in general, often saves a life with a knife. Each in his own way. It has nothing to do with the knife, but with the person using the knife.

The knife was small. By the way, his grandfather also had a knife on his belt. It was very pretty, with a birch bark handle, but for some reason his grandfather never used it. Maybe he felt protective of it, or maybe there was some other, more weighty reason that Alex did not know then.

Having looked closely, the kid saw what his grandfather was making. It was a pipe. It was made of ordinary reed, usually pretty fast. In Russia, such pipes were called sapellas, zhaleyki, and breathers. What variety of such pipes were made from cane, reeds, angelica and even birch bark. It was rare for a shepherd to not have a pipe. About the street performers, and the gusliard-pilgrims, not enough can be said. I do not know why, from boredom or for some other reason they were made by people. Yes, only everyone played with them, whoever was not lazy. And it seemed that none of them were taught music, but all played. Miracles. Maybe the soul itself did so and sang. And the body simply followed.

In the meantime, the grandfather brought the pipe to his lips and began to play. Some kind of plaintive melody flowed. Maybe that’s why people said: “Zhaleyka is crying”. Grandfather played very nicely. And then Alex thought that the space around him filled with something other than sound. As if it was not just the sound of a pipe, but as if something was covering up this space and filling it with something else. He could not understand what. Before his eyes, and maybe not his eyes, then he did not understand, some images floated. What sad memories suddenly came to him. As if a wave of memories swept him from head to foot. He remembered how, when he was fishing with his father, he accidentally stepped on the frog and crushed it with his boot. It’s unclear why, right now he remembered about it. Then, too, he lamented and reproached himself for it. But now, he felt so sorry for it, as if it had just happened. His soul seemed to shrink in that moment. It was like that, time itself turned around and he was experiencing now the same feelings as then. Somewhere in the depth of himself, he felt heaviness and deep sadness. He was wilted, and the boy’s eyes filled with tears. He, as a child, sniffed. At the same time, he saw it all, as if from the side. As if not with his own eyes, but with the eyes of someone else who was present at that time. The image was so vivid that it seemed he could come over and take himself by the shoulder. But then his grandfather stopped playing. This vivid image, as if dissolved in the air, like a mirage. Only Alex remained, with tears streaming down his eyes.

Grandfather looked at him, slyly grinned and his eyes lit up, like of a mischievous boy. He took a breath and played again. This time, he played some kind of funny folk song. Alex had already heard it before, but could not remember the words. It was sung by Cossacks at some kind of fair. On Alex’s face, a smile appeared by itself. The space around him was enveloped in a sparkling fog. It seemed that small fireflies surrounded him. As much sound there was, this fog seemed to be just as much. In the chest, from these sparks, as if a light broke out. Which soon turned into a flame and this flame could not be stopped. The heat grew stronger and seemed to burst from the chest. As if the fire that was inside wanted to merge with the sparks that were around. Without realizing it, he began to move. Not that he did not want this. It seemed that he could stop when he wanted, but the body itself already danced to the beat of the music, and these movements were so natural, that he did not want to stop them. Then, he just decided to let go of the body, and it began to make out such moves, which Alex never learned, and from that he did not know of what he could do.

He was seized with an incredible sense of enthusiasm, as if he really was in the soul itself. It was so joyful, fun and easy. He began to whistle to the beat and from the chest, as if by itself, the song flowed, the words of which he did not know. The body was on its own, and he, Alex, was not in it. There was an incredible ease of movement, and at the same time, this movement was filled with incredible power. It seemed to him that now he could easily jump onto the house. There was no fatigue, and he doubted that he was in control of his body at all. But miracles, it remained obedient to him. It just moved to the rhythm of the music, but it did not want to stop now. Instead of his body, it now seemed to him that he felt all the space around and everything that was in it. As if he was not a boy at all, but a hero and already occupied all the space that shone around him. If, a neighboring boy shot him from a slingshot, he could safely see the stone flying into him and catch it. It was unclear how, but he firmly knew this. Now, he was sure that nothing would stop him. It was a feeling of boundless self-confidence. It is not known how much he would have danced, if his grandfather had not stopped. Little by little the boy stopped too. The sparkling fog dissipated. But there was a feeling that there was some iridescent shell around him. It shone like a soap bubble in the sun. Barely breathless, he and his grandfather laughed gaily, looking at each other.

“And before, Alex, the whole world danced to the tune of our pipe!” – cried the old man.

“How can you play like this?! I couldn’t even stop my legs!!” – shouted the excited boy in reply.

“I just play everything! I play from the heart!” – grandfather laughed – “Do you like my pipe?”

“Of course I like it! You played it, and sadness went away!” – answered the kid.

“And so they used to say it in the old days: “You will play and the soul will collapse, and then unravel”!! Much wisdom is hidden in Russia. Probably more than the rest of the world. Look at yourself, your feet went to dance. From what?”

“I do not know myself. They just wanted to.” – scratched the back of his head Alex.

“Your feet?” – his grandfather’s eyes narrowed.

“I don’t know. No, definitely not the feet!”

“Did your feet become joyous?” – grandfather smiled slyly.

“Something inside!”

“Exactly! The soul at first became joyful. The fire in it broke out, and then the light from you poured into the world. As if a familiar string was struck within you. Something that you always knew, but that no one ever told you. You merged with the music. The soul began to hover. And the body just followed the soul. So there, Alex. The soul feels everything, better than the body. More vivid, fuller or something. And all that it feels, it absorbs, well, like a sponge. All indiscriminately. There was a person passing by, his mood was bad, he only looked at you, and your mood became bad. A “heavy look” is said about such. And the other one smiled at you, and you smile at him in return. And it became easy for the both of them. Their souls talked. Before, people did not live as close as they do now. Maybe because of it, the breadth of their soul was more and had more power. “The wide soul of the Russian man – like the Mother Rus herself” – so they say. Or they simply said: “A wide soul man”. Such a person can give away his last shirt, in order to help someone. From the fact that he does not live in the body, but in the soul. And the body for him is kind of like a shirt. That shirt repeats your movements after the body. So the body repeats your movements after the soul. Movement always goes from the heart. Such is the reason as to why we are given hands and feet, so we could embody the impulses of the soul in this dense world. Before, everyone in Russia lived through the soul, but now more and more through the body. Maybe because of this, many are afraid to lose it. And it used to happen that in a neighboring village a misfortune happened with the relatives, and a man cannot find a place for himself from a great distance away. The soul feels everything. There are many words in the Russian language that describe the feelings of the soul. You can look for yourself, if you are not too lazy. Not in all languages, such words can be found, by the way.

Everything the soul takes in, it saves. From that, the memory is not formed in the head, as it is now understood, but in the soul itself. Well, of course, the soul can also be wounded by rash words, as if by pricks. From this, the word “curse” can also be found among us. The soul can be pricked … cursed. And the soul, where it feels paid or sorrow, no longer wishes to go. Maybe because of this, the grandmothers-sorceress stuck needles in linen. The body does not seem to feel it, but the soul knows.

In a word, you need to listen to it. Just listen. Well, of course, also to hear it. And for this, it is necessary that the body and the head do not interfere. Ask yourself: “What do I feel?” and your soul, itself, will talk to you. And you know and listen, but do not interrupt. Everything is simple!

But after all, before, Alex, the dance was not a simple thing in Russia. It also removed pain after labor from the body. The body aches where there is tension. And if there is no tension, and the pain goes away. Some patients were placed back on their feet in such a way. And the soldiers were also taught the wisdom of military science. Well, different rituals were also held in the dance. For example, Horovod. Why do people lead it in the circle, while holding hands? How did our Ancestors call our Sun? The young Sun was called Yarilo, well, the old was called Hors. And so it happens: Hors (the Sun) led (Vod) in a circle … Hor-o-Vod. Much is hidden in our native culture. Our wisdom is deep, and there are no unnecessary things within it!”

And the pipe, the grandfather gave to Alex. Let him play for health, and to the joy of others. A tool in hand is always more useful than on a dusty shelf. And nothing is wasted, when it is given to a loved one. And the hands themselves will remember, how and when, if the soul itself will reach out for something.

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