I had to spend this summer at the dacha. For two whole months I had to help my grandmother grow tomatoes, cucumbers, water potatoes, and weed the beds. At first I was very upset. At the dacha the Internet connection was poor, so the computer was left at home. The first weeks I howled with anguish. But then I met Tamara Ivanovna. My essay on the topic “An Interesting Meeting” will be dedicated specifically to her.
Essay on an interesting meeting, grade 6
Tamara Ivanovna lived in the house opposite. They greeted my grandmother, but it was difficult to call their relationship friendly. Rather, they were simply neighbors and did not want to deepen communication. My grandmother knew nothing about Tamara Ivanovna, and I suddenly became interested in this elderly lady. The fact is that she was completely different from ordinary pensioners. She wore beautiful hats and lipstick, walked around the garden in a bathing suit and with a glass of cocktail. At first I felt very funny about this behavior. I also noticed that the neighbor’s granny was tending to her garden alone. Doesn't she have any grandchildren?
One day I was kicking a ball and it flew straight into Tamara Ivanovna’s garden. There was nothing left to do but meet the old woman, who had already attracted attention with her extraordinary behavior. In the morning I saw her watering the beds while listening to rock music. But at lunchtime there was silence in her area. I quietly knocked on the gate and timidly entered. I was afraid to see her in the company of pumped up African Americans. No, I understood that this was unlikely, but my fantasy persistently attributed precisely such pictures to the image of the neighbor.
I decided that the ball was in the pool and asked permission to dive into it. The woman agreed. I quickly climbed into the pool, but the ball was not there!
But there's nothing here! - I said, checking several times.
- I didn’t say that your ball is in the pool.
- But you said he drowned.
“He drowned in a world of falsehood and boredom in order to be reborn again in the house of love for life,” saying this, grandma laughed so hard that I was afraid that the orderlies would now come running to her. I was convinced that the woman was a little crazy. Now you understand why my short essay on the topic of an interesting meeting, was it written specifically about Tamara Ivanovna?
But how can I pick it up?
- Maybe you would like to drink champagne with me? Celebrate your acquaintance?
- No thanks. I do not drink. - I said, no one has ever offered me champagne. Doesn’t she really see that I’m still too young for this?
- How boring your life is.
“But you are fun,” I added.
- Certainly. Every day is a gift from fate, you need to live it like your last. I started living when I was thirty. Before that, I was afraid of everything in the world. Condemnations from society, lack of money, criticism of my paintings. And then I realized, live as if today is your last day. Enjoy your life. After all, life is not the number of days lived, but the number of days when you were happy.
Suddenly the crazy lady appeared in my eyes as being much smarter than most of my friends. After all, there was truth in her wise words. I asked Tamara Ivanovna about her paintings, and she told me that she was an artist. She showed me her work, made me tea, and gave me the ball. Since then I often went to visit her. Tamara knew a lot about European artists and told incredible stories about her life. I was bored with my grandmother, who kept making me work in the garden. And it was fun with my neighbor, who laughed and gave me tea. Once I asked Tamara Ivanovna about her grandchildren, and she said that she never wanted children. After all, children are such a burden and a burden.
I felt somehow uneasy. I suddenly thought about my granny, who works day and night in the garden to grow vegetables and fruits, pass them on to our family, and make us jam. Grandma devoted her whole life to raising her mother and her brother, and now she helps their families. There were still two weeks left before I left home. And I never came to the neighbor again. I spent all this time with my grandmother. I talked to her, asked about her childhood and youth, about her favorite countries and food. We became closer during these two weeks than ever before. Grandma started hugging me, and her borscht became even tastier. Therefore, do you know who my interesting meeting took place with this summer? With my grandmother, whom I had never appreciated before.
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>Essays by topic
Everyone has had a completely unexpected but interesting meeting in their life. The most interesting meeting in my life happened this spring. I met an amazing person.
When I was walking home from a friend through the neighboring yards, I noticed an elderly man on a bench with a map in his hands. He looked upset and lost. I approached and offered to help. It turned out that he did not know Russian. I tried to speak English and remembered everything we were taught at school. He was a physics professor who had come from Great Britain to a local university. He said that he left the hotel to get some air and got lost. I helped him get to his stopping place. We walked and chatted. I didn’t understand well that he spoke slowly and tried to show what he was talking about. His name was Mr Rupert Waltersky. He looked to be about 70 years old. He was short, completely gray with a slight receding hairline. He had large gold-framed glasses and a tiny hearing aid behind his ear. Apparently, he put a lot of effort into his professional growth, spent many hours reading books in the library, worked hard on his works in physics. He looked well-groomed: things were clean and ironed, but it was noticeable that they were no longer new. He wore a dark green jacket, dark blue trousers, an interestingly patterned tie, and fancy vintage burgundy shoes. There was a twinkle in his eyes.
I was delighted with him vitality, positivity and energy. During our conversation, he was very inspired, he spoke very emotionally, actively gesturing with his hands. He said that he lives alone because his wife died two years ago, but in her memory he looks after their small garden. I also realized that in their region there are annual competitions for the best garden. This is their long-standing tradition, I found it very interesting, I would like them to be held here too. Then our yards would be much cleaner and more beautiful, with a lot of flowers of different colors and sizes. He also said that he lives on south coast, so their weather is almost always warm. It turned out that this was not the first time he had come to our city; he said that he really liked our dentists and cheap noses. He has a great sense of humor, I would really like to have such a teacher. He was very kind and open, and invited me to visit Foggy Albion. I had a lot of fun and interesting time with this wonderful man, I hope that someday I will be able to visit him.
Following my tradition of recording memories, I decided to devote several pages to sketch stories about meetings with interesting people.
I will tell you on the next few scattered pages about the people who influenced me, and, above all, influenced me with some of their unusual abilities, abilities for an extraordinary life in the spirit of religion or philosophy.
In my life I have not met such people so often, and each time these meetings were a joy. I am convinced that interest in such topics leaves its own unique imprint on people and sets them apart from the general stream of life.
I met Anton K. in the early 90s, during the period of my passion for mysticism, and we communicated with him for quite a long time, and we still communicate, though mainly thanks to the Internet. I want to tell you a little about this man here.
_________
Not so long ago his apartment was a curious sight. Its walls, whitewashed with lime, were completely covered with a wide variety of posters, posters, art objects and other artifacts.
Anton said that this room is for him a kind of “sacred territory” or a corner in which his inner world is reflected - so every thing or object in it corresponds to something inside himself... It must be said that the explanation it's philosophical and quite intricate, in the spirit of Castaneda's books, which Anton always loved to read.
On an old folding table in the “sacred room” there was an equally old computer. The food that the owner ate usually lay there, i.e. bread, margarine, sugar and tea. In nutrition, as well as in clothing, this unusual person was always unpretentious, like the classic “Mitka” from the book of Vladimir Shinkarev.
Anton did not drink alcohol often, he smoked, but also quite rarely. Over time, he managed to give up smoking, and partly from drinking.
He always left the celebrations of various birthdays first, so as not to take part in drunken conversations and not to burden his body with unnecessary libations; he demonstrated such careful and tactful behavior quite in the spirit of the teachings of the magicians that he followed - this is exactly what I understood subsequently, and is called by Castaneda “the way of the warrior.”
Anton is a travel lover. A passion for this was once instilled in him by Igor I., our mutual friend, who pulled him out of dirty and dusty Tagil to Altai. He successfully visited the mountains, and since then the desire to change places has firmly settled in his soul. Afterwards, he traveled repeatedly to the mountains, with friends and alone, lived there with people he knew, then returned, got a job again, so that after saving money he would go on travels again...
One day Anton, in the spirit of adventurism and guided by magical literature, even bought himself his own house somewhere in the Krasnoyarsk region, in the distant Siberian taiga, not far from the place of exile of V.I. Lenin... He sometimes visits there to enjoy freedom and communication with the nature there.
I don’t want to say anything bad about Anton, but he always gave the impression of being “not of this world.” His speech is quite strange, he says little, but when he speaks, it is something unusual and avant-garde, supplying his words with various curious epithets and words of his own invention (like “words-wallets-with-several-pockets” by Humpty Dumpty from the book by Lewis Carroll) , so it makes an unexpected impression on unprepared people, however, people who know him well are already accustomed to this behavior and do not pay much attention to it.
His parents have a weakness for drinking. Life in a communal apartment is not easy for his family and for himself. The cramped living conditions, the unsettled conditions, the drinking neighbors - all this left and is leaving its mark on his life and the life of his family. But it should be noted that Anton always endured these trials stoically (or like a “warrior,” to use the terminology closer to him) and rarely succumbed to them. Moreover, he knew how to maintain calm and good nature, which, undoubtedly, is a great merit of his character. To live your whole life like this and almost not succumb to harmful influences is worth a lot!
My next story will be about a man whom fate introduced me to during my treatment at the clinic at the very beginning of the 2000s. I was treated for residual effects of a traumatic brain injury suffered at the age of 4 years.
_________
A hospital is a place where you can meet the most different people, with very different views and beliefs. There are among them those who do not believe in anything, there are also those who believe, there are so-called spiritual seekers. One of the brightest people, from the category of spiritual people, the communication with whom I remember most was Valera-Krishna.
He was nicknamed Krishna because he always and everywhere preached this god - to friends, casual comrades, to the medical staff of the hospital where he was treated, and he did this persistently and at the same time delicately.
Valera wore a colorful beard and looked more like a portly Old Believer than a puny vegetarian Hare Krishna, as we usually imagine them to be, and as they often actually are. He has a wife about his age, i.e. about 40 years old, and even, it seems, there are children.
Valera carried huge volumes with him to the hospital scriptures their sect (I don’t really like this word, it seems to me that it smacks of chauvinism, one might say “religion”, “school” - which has exactly the same right to exist as any other religions, schools and confessions), which subsequently gave it to his comrades in his hospital ward.
He also read mantras, fingering the rosary in a bag with a pattern on the sides, and in such cases not paying attention to curious glances from the outside.
I remember we had a long conversation with him about his faith. For my part, I shared my impressions of the book “The Science of Self-Consciousness” by Bhaktivedanta Swami (the author of Hare Krishna books), which I once read and which my mother gave me. He, as it turned out, could talk not only about Krishna, but also discuss, for example, the work of the Aquarium group and other similar interesting topics related to culture.
Valera had a weakness for drinking and smoking. Nevertheless, faith and various weaknesses and habits were combined in him. He fought with them in his soul, fought with the inertia of his imperfect nature, fought with the weakness of indulging in the lack of spirituality of those people who did not share his faith, or were indifferent to it...
I remember that he also had mood swings, moments of hesitation or doubt. Once, during the period of his then treatment, he went on short-term leave (KO) for several days, and returned not with Hare Krishna books, but with a volume of Chekhov’s stories, and convinced me to read some story from there, which, as I understood, really caught his attention...
I also remember that it was thanks to this man that I found the strength to read one of the most famous and striking monuments of Indian literature - the Bhagavad Gita, for which I am grateful to Valera’s influence.
I don’t know how the life of this interesting man developed further, but I heard rumors that he subsequently ceased to be a Hare Krishna, and the general cultural and spiritual crisis of society, coupled with our common imperfect nature, did their evil deed, turning him away from the faith. .. I don’t know how much one can believe such rumors, but then, at the very beginning of the 2000s, when I met him, everyone called Valera nothing more than “Krishna”, this image of him remained forever in my memory...
There was a period in my life when the path of spiritual search, having acquired a rather bizarre trajectory, bypassing the fascination with esotericism and spiritual teachings of the East, led me to church. This happened to me at the beginning of the 2000s. After some time, following the same unpredictability of character and fate, I went over to the sect (as I already said, I don’t like this word) of neo-Pentecostals, where for a long time my mother went. After another year, I returned back to my passion for church teaching and visited churches until the end of the 2000s, when, following the good old memory, I returned to my old passion for philosophy and mysticism. I want to talk about these two periods of passion for Christianity - church and sectarian, and about the people with whom I had the opportunity to communicate at that time.
_________
Dear, kind people, passionate about the common idea of worshiping God, gathered together every Sunday, drank tea and cake, which they bought with common money, sang, talked about spiritual topics... This is my most vivid memory of the time I was fascinated by the ideas of the sect. And it is in vain that the Orthodox persecute these teachings; there is absolutely nothing evil or bad in them, I am convinced of this myself. If there is any drawback to these unorthodox traditions, it is that the idyll of such communication is often ephemeral, not eternal, not everyone can constantly stay on such an energetic wave, a large percentage of people who eventually leave sects, and at best - they find themselves another teaching, and in the worst case - completely disillusioned with spiritual paths and not joining any of them, they return to ordinary life.
I remember that in our house there was always various Christian literature scattered in all corners, some brochures with bright covers, booklets... When I myself began to go to the sect, I began to somehow tidy it up and sort it.
As I said above, staying on such an energetic wave requires a lot of skill and strength. Dynamic sermons in the house of worship, ecstatic chants, all this is so full of life that it is not surprising that mainly only women, with their ebullient restless energy, are able to appreciate such leisure and indulge in it with all their souls.
Therefore, after going to this neo-Pentecostal church for some time, and having exhausted my reserve of strength and interest, I abandoned this hobby.
_________
Fate made it possible to meet interesting people from among the believers, for example, Lyubov Nikolaevna or simply Lyuba. Lyuba taught me to pray according to the prayer book, encouraged me to go on a pilgrimage, and supported me spiritually.
Lyuba – simple woman, with a soft, ingratiating voice, she is far from philosophy or science, and simply believes in God. IN Lately, leaving her job at UVZ, she went to work in a church, which is located not far from the factory entrance. She believes very fervently, what is called with all her soul, unconditionally accepting church teaching. If the church says that a sect is a “devilish host” (in the words of Ignatius Brianchaninov), then that is the way it is, and there is nothing to defend them.
But at the same time, despite her uncompromisingness and firmness of judgment, Lyuba is a very kind and merciful person at heart.
The only case in my life when I can use the word “sect” in a negative sense is the story with my friend Alexander E, which I intend to talk about further.
_________
Sasha was an ordinary person, studied at school and did quite well, until, by the will of fate, life brought him together with followers of the destructive cult of the White Brotherhood sect, which was sensational in the very early 90s.
After this, his life changed dramatically. The world of spirituality opened up to him, but, unfortunately, not in the convenient and safe form familiar to most, but in the form of a risky enterprise, from which he managed to get out only after the arrest of the leaders of this sect. He traveled around the country preaching dubious and dangerous teachings, subjected himself to severe asceticism, eating only rice seasoned with red capsicum, read mantras, chanted and meditated. He was also often taken to the police station for active preaching; in general, he apparently suffered a lot during this period of his life.
When this whole nightmare was over, Sasha returned home. At that moment we met him. It soon became clear that he was no stranger to creativity, he sang and played the guitar and composed his own songs. Most likely, this gift was revealed to him almost immediately after returning to normal life. For some time, my friends and I gathered at his house, played music, and talked to each other.
He writes songs of stunning beauty, almost all of which exist in recordings, some of which I remember by heart, for example, such heartfelt lines:
“Having covered your gaze under the shadow of your eyelids,
Forgetting about cruel times -
About something near and far -
A man walked under the light of the stars -
About something near and far -
A man walked under the light of the stars.
Nobody knew him: reasons
Uninteresting to people;
Just a few seas
Yes, the loyalty of his eyes is his initiative,
Just a few seas
Yes, the loyalty of his eyes is his initiative...”
For some time after returning to normal life, Sasha lived in Nizhny Tagil, and then moved to live in Ukraine, where he met a girl, got married, and had two children. Now, as before, he writes songs, plays music group, his repertoire already includes more than a hundred songs.
What about the experience of spiritual life? As far as I know, Sasha has retained his interest in this topic; now he is interested in Rodnoverie, which is reflected in his musical work...
I now remember instances of communication with Andrei M. I remember that, in the early 90s, he, being carried away by the ideas of the White Brotherhood sect, and then by occult literature, painted with colored pens the surface of a sheet of plexiglass that lay on his desk. These were drawings of various signs and symbols. I never saw anything like this in anyone else’s home in those years, or in subsequent years either. He carved rosary beads from wood with his own hands according to instructions from the Hare Krishna books of Bhaktivedanta Swami. He made several of these rosaries and gave them all to his friends. One copy of the product is kept at home by a friend of mine with whom I maintain a relationship, but, unfortunately, it is buried among other things.
I also remember the songs that Andrei composed. In those distant times, we sometimes composed some songs and recorded them in our own performance with a guitar on a reel-to-reel tape recorder. Then one of us came across the book “Wake up in Famagusta” by Eremey Parnov. There is this episode in this book:
“The sandalwood old man touched the guide’s bowed, short-cropped head with his dry, cool fingers and muttered cleansing mantras. From his touch my soul immediately felt light and calm.
The newcomer dami conjured death for me,” Ang Temba complained, keeping hope for a review of the sentence.
There is no death,” the lama reassured him. - There is only the past, the future and forty-nine days between them. Don't be afraid, go...
Maybe I should terminate the contract with the sahib from the country of America? - asked the Sherpa, gratefully touching his forehead to the beaded monk's boots.
“I will answer you in due time,” Ngagwan Rimpoche promised, after some hesitation.”
Obviously, this text is inspired by the Tibetan Book of the Dead, which describes a 49-day program for the journey of human consciousness into the Bardo - the intermediate state between births.
In those days, literature on Buddhism, such as the Tibetan Book of the Dead, was practically inaccessible, so the book by Eremey Parnov turned out to be almost the only example of an introduction to this kind of subject.
I am writing all this because Andrei then composed one song called “49 days.” In it this figure is repeated as a refrain. I remember these lines in this song:
“49 days... Wait, wait!
49 days - long journey home."
Probably, it was about the journey of the soul beyond this world - if it is true that it was written precisely on this plot. Unfortunately, I practically don’t remember the words of this song, only fragments of lines pop up, and it’s difficult for me to say what this song is about. But I think that it was inspired by a book that we were all reading at the time. I don't have a recording of this song. A friend has it, but this recording is gathering dust somewhere among other reels, and it needs to be found and then digitized. It would be nice if one day this was done.
In the memories of those years, Parnov’s book is associated with travels to Altai. From time to time, one of our company went to those distant lands in order to recharge with energy and impressions from Nature. The book “Wake up in Famagusta” describes travels through the mountainous regions of Tibet. These descriptions served as a kind of reminder to us of the mountains. We read and re-read this book many times in order to refresh our memory again and again of the unforgettable impressions of the Altai trips.
And finally, before finishing my story, I want to talk about two people who, in their image, seemed to condense the general energy and charisma, the experience of many of my acquaintances and friends, and influenced them with their views and beliefs, with their lives.
_________
I once wrote a separate story about the first of them, Victor Z.. Here I will tell you only briefly about its history.
Victor was, as often happens, an ordinary person; he did not stand out in any way from the usual mass of people. He worked in the traffic police, went to work, raised children, drank...
But suddenly an incident occurred in his life that radically affected his entire life. future fate. One day, while alone at home, he lost consciousness, and when he woke up, he found that he was locked in a room, he had no clothes, water was flowing from the kitchen tap... Under these mysterious circumstances, his wife found him, after after returning home. Soon another event happened: she discovered on his back, on the right side, a mysterious sign in the form of a cross with a base and two rays emanating from the base... It also soon became known that Victor had acquired some psychic abilities. For some time he practiced treating people, then in the early 90s he had students and followers to whom he explained his teachings and his views on the world. Fate decreed that some of my friends became these students.
Victor has had a great impact on our company. With his charisma, he attracted people to himself and united them with each other. His image as a guru turned out to be a kind of beacon, eternally alluring and inaccessible, but warming hearts in moments of sorrow and despondency. I think that, largely thanks to him and his influence, the threads connecting our company did not disintegrate ahead of time, and if not for him, we would have lost each other long ago in the noise and bustle of the crowded city...
_________
Our company also owes Victor for introducing us to the Altai Territory. In the Altai mountains, in the small village of Elekmonar, in the mid-90s, I met a second person, interesting for his spiritual interests and quests - this man’s name is Ilya. I didn’t communicate with him for long, as it happened, but the impressions from meeting him were enough for the rest of my life.
I remember Ilya primarily as a mystic, i.e. a person who has seriously devoted himself to spiritual quest. In his wooden two-story house, where he lived with his family, there was a fairly extensive library of esoteric books; these books were placed on both floors of the house. I remember how, during my stay with him as a guest, we exchanged this kind of literature with him: I gave him the book by Helena Blavatsky “The Key to Theosophy”, which I brought with me, he, in turn, gave me a publication that included the book Peter Ouspensky’s “In Search of the Miraculous” and George Gurdjieff’s book “Views from the Real World.”
I saw him meditating for a long time on the top floor of his house, sitting, wrapped in a white sheet, and intently looking at the image of a magical mandala diagram hanging on the wall.
It was also said about him that he used to go alone high into the mountains and make retreats there, doing contemplation and spending the night under open air in a sleeping bag...
Ilya was married, he has children from his first marriage, and now he lives in Moscow. According to rumors, he is engaged in transpersonal psychology and conducts some seminars. Here, in my opinion, is a worthy example of a person who dedicated his life spiritual development and improvement.
_________
In conclusion of this chapter, I want to note that I have met several other people in my life who are in one way or another engaged in self-improvement. And also communicated with some of them in the virtual space of the Internet. In this essay I have mentioned only the most striking examples of such people, in my opinion. But, if you think carefully, you can probably remember many other similar examples... The fate of each such person is interesting in itself, and I am sure that to some extent self-improvement passes through the life of each of us.
Time passes, everything changes. There are fewer and fewer illusions left, fewer and fewer people remain in our lives who would understand us or share our views and beliefs, most often these are only our closest friends or family. But times of spiritual search, moments of communication with other people, sometimes very different and difficult, in my opinion, give a lot to a person. This is how we learn empathy and understanding, learn from other people’s experiences, and receive incentives for further search and development.
Composition
One day on Victory Day
On May 9, the city was unusually crowded. After all, they celebrated a national holiday - Victory Day. All the children poured out into the yard while their parents watched the festive parade on Red Square on TV. The children played their usual games. Suddenly they noticed an elderly man in a festive tunic with many medals. They immediately surrounded him and began to ask what he was doing in their yard, resheba.com The gray-haired veteran said that he had come to visit his comrade in arms, since he could not come to the meeting with his fellow soldiers. The old man called his friend’s name, and the guys began to shout vyingly that he lived in the first entrance, that they knew him well. Boys and girls began to ask the participant in the hostilities about the events of those distant days. The veteran recalled with pleasure his comrades in arms and spoke about the circumstances under which he met the general living in their yard.
They were then young officers who had just completed emergency training courses. It so happened that literally in the first days at the front they took part in a fierce battle with the enemy. The narrator was wounded, and his fellow soldier, with whom he became best friends from then on, carried him from the battlefield on himself. Of course, life has scattered them, but... every year they always meet on Red Square, under the Chimes, and remember the past.
After that short story, the old military man was no longer a stranger to the guys. They took him to their neighbor, the general, who was very happy to see the long-awaited guest.
Summer came and my friends and I often went for a walk. One such day we went to play on the playground at Petya’s house. Twenty meters from this place there are thickets of bushes and the guys decided to build a headquarters there. But when we approached these bushes, we heard a growl. It was a cat. And she growled because she was hiding very small kittens in the bushes. There were several of them, but they were all the same gray color, like mom.
We decided that there was no point in disturbing this family. Petya ran home and brought sausages. The new mother happily ate the treat. Since then, we constantly came to visit this family, bringing food and water. Petya brought an old towel and laid it out for the kittens.
A week passed and I went to the village to visit my grandmother. Came back a month later. The kittens grew up a lot, ran around the playground and became local favorites. Two of them got their own house; they were taken by people from neighboring houses.
By the end of summer, the kittens turned into big cats and could find their own food. I am very happy to meet these participants in that unexpected meeting.
Summer came and my friends and I often went for a walk. One such day we went to play on the playground at Petya’s house. Twenty meters from this place there are thickets of bushes and the guys decided to build a headquarters there. But when we approached these bushes, we heard a growl. It was a cat. And she growled because she was hiding very small kittens in the bushes. There were several of them, but they were all the same gray color, like mom.
We decided that there was no point in disturbing this family. Petya ran home and brought sausages. The new mother happily ate the treat. Since then, we constantly came to visit this family, bringing food and water. Petya brought an old towel and laid it out for the kittens.
A week passed and I went to the village to visit my grandmother. Came back a month later. The kittens grew up a lot, ran around the playground and became local favorites. Two of them got their own house; they were taken by people from neighboring houses.
By the end of summer, the kittens turned into big cats and could find their own food. I am very happy to meet these participants in that unexpected meeting.
Mushrooms in the forest
On summer holidays oh I went to the village. I lived with my grandparents for about five weeks. One day we went into the forest to pick mushrooms. It was morning and it was not hot in the forest. Grandfather went first. We're following. We dressed thoroughly so as not to feed the mosquitoes. After half an hour of walking, we reached the first desired place.
Mushroom picking has begun. About ten minutes later, when I extended my hand to the next mushroom, something stirred in the grass. I jumped back, afraid that I had stumbled upon a snake. My grandparents came running at my scream.
Looking closer we saw a hedgehog. It was small and grey. And scared of us, he quickly ran away. I didn't know that hedgehogs ran so fast.
The uninvited guest disappeared, and we continued our work, only we went in a different direction.
A couple of hours later we returned home, having filled our baskets. Summer is over, and I still remember that meeting with the hedgehog.
5th grade, 6th grade.
The most interesting meetings happen completely unexpectedly. You live your life quietly, and suddenly something happens that you will never forget. My interesting meeting happened exactly like this.
This happened in the summer, late in the evening. The boys and I played football in the neighboring yard. It was starting to get dark, it was time to go home. My friend Misha and I walked together along a small path to our street.
Suddenly we heard loud puffing and snorting coming from ahead. We were wary. The sounds began to intensify and get closer. It became a little scary. We looked at each other, but continued walking. Suddenly a large and incomprehensible shadow began to approach us. She was strangely shaped and constantly moving. We stopped; no one wanted to move on. But we were ashamed to run away. And then a hare jumped out of the darkness towards us. He was clearly in a hurry, he wanted to quickly run away from someone. A dog jumped out after him and wanted to grab him. The hare did not know where to go and out of fear jumped straight into my hands. I quickly hid it under my T-shirt so the dog couldn't see it. The poor animal didn't even resist. I felt how hard he was breathing, his heart was beating quickly. The dog lost its prey and ran past us. She probably thought that the hare had galloped on. And we didn’t waste time and also ran home as quickly as possible.
At home we gave the poor bunny some water and gave him carrots. At first he was afraid to move, probably thinking that we also wanted to hurt him. Then he grew bolder and began chewing vegetables in a businesslike manner. The hare lived with us for two weeks. During this time, he completely settled down, accepted our family as his own, was not afraid of anyone, and even sometimes allowed himself to be petted. He loved to eat vegetables and fruits, but did not refuse porridge. He made a real mess in the house, jumped everywhere and made holes for himself. But wild animals should always live in nature, this is their real home. Only in the forest will a hare feel comfortable. So dad took him to the nearest forest, where he quickly galloped away from him.
It will forever remain a mystery to me how this animal appeared on the street that day. The forest is far from us, and there are few parks. I live in the very center of the city. Here, the only animals you can find are dogs and cats, and even near the circus, children are sometimes given rides on horses. This made it even more interesting where he came from. This interesting meeting happened to me and my friend Misha this summer.
Brief 6th grade
Last year, on the first of September, I had a very interesting and unusual meeting with a wonderful stork named Lenchik. When we arrived at the line, we noticed this wonderful bird nearby. He walked so importantly and slowly through the grass and looked for something there.
Naturally, all the attention was not on the holiday, but in the direction of Lenchik. The whole school watched as he slowly moved from the lawn to the center and looked thoughtfully at the presenters. He seemed to understand what they were saying and listened carefully. Then he wanted to burst several balloons lying on the ground along the podium, which made everyone present laugh a lot.
When the official part was over, everyone rushed to the bird and started taking pictures with it. From one of the mothers I heard that he is a home-bred and has a sad fate. When the stork was very small, he fell out of the nest and broke his wing, and his parents did not have enough strength to lift the baby back. That's when Aunt Larisa picked him up, cured his wing and fed him herself. So the months flew by, and the chick grew into a beautiful adult stork who did not want to leave his new home. And he couldn’t, because even though the wing had healed, he couldn’t fly.
Just recently I found out that he was sent to a pet zoo. Auntie said that he would feel good there and that they would take care of him, and we as a whole class hope that one day his children will fly to our school.
Essay Interesting meeting on the bus exercise 38
Sometimes life prepares unexpected events for us, real surprises. Sometimes such surprises are like sudden gifts, when you are given something “just because” - and it becomes doubly pleasant, not even from the thing itself, but from the fact of attention and unexpected joy.
Today fate gave such a gift to my mother. She still shines and I rejoice with her. On the weekend, my mother and I walked around the city. An ordinary day, all people are in a hurry somewhere. We boarded the bus to get to the park. I was sitting, thinking about my own things, when I suddenly saw that a young woman at the other end of the salon waved her hand at my mother and moved towards us with a smile. I haven't seen my mom so excited for a long time! It turned out that this beautiful young woman was her former classmate, and they had not seen each other for many years! She was in our city on business, just for a few days. Of course, we invited my mother’s classmate to join us.
I would be happy to describe this meeting in more detail if it were possible. There are not enough words to tell all the jokes, dialogues, memories that were heard in our living room in the evening when the guest visited us. Mom took out their school album from the bookcase - it was so interesting to look at the girls, almost my peers, who smiled cheerfully in black and white photographs.
In the evening, already falling asleep, I thought a lot about this meeting. My parents always told me that friendships formed during school years are strong and remain with a person for life. Of course, I believed them, but somehow more theoretically. And only now, having seen my mother’s joy and the joy of her friend, having sat with them over school photographs, I felt the full strength of their friendship and truly believed in the loyalty of my school friends.
I don’t know how my own life will turn out, and it’s hard for me to imagine what I’ll be like in many years, but I hope that similar unexpected meetings await me and they will be just as warm and joyful.
6th grade. Russian language, exercise 38
Essay Interesting meeting with a puppy, grade 6
My family is me, mom and dad. We live in an apartment in the city. I asked my parents many times to get a dog, but they were always against it. Mom thinks she has a lot on her plate. But I still dream of having a friend like a dog. One day, I met a puppy and he now lives with us.
When I was visiting my grandmother in the village last summer, we went swimming in the lake every day. Was near the lake big house, where a large dog was constantly barking. And one day we saw a small puppy running near this house. I walked up to him and took him in my arms. He was Brown, and the tail was white. His eyes were light gray. He was very cheerful and mischievous. And I immediately realized that I wanted him to live with me.
I spent a whole week trying to persuade mom and dad to let me take this puppy. At first they were against it, but then they agreed. The owner of the large dog and puppy was very happy that we decided to adopt him. And we began to think about what name to give our new pet. Mom suggested the name Bill, dad suggested Jack, but I called him Max.
Now Max and I were constantly together. We fed him soup, potatoes, porridge, and meat. He was already two months old and could eat everything by himself. We played different games. I threw the ball and Max ran after it.
Our dog also loved to swim; he swam well. He especially loved to frolic in the water when it was hot. He ran along the shore, and when he ran out of the water, he shook himself off, and splashes flew in all directions.
Mom, dad and grandma also loved my dog. They often played with him and prepared food for him. When we arrived home in the city, we took Max to the vet. He vaccinated him so that he would not get sick.
I am very glad that I now have a dog. Because the dog is best friend. Now after school I walk with him in the yard. And all my classmates love to play with my dog. He is very kind, affectionate and cheerful. I am grateful to my parents for taking Max.
Sample 7
Everyone knows that the best things happen unexpectedly. So fate sometimes gives us surprises in the form of chance encounters. But they can be so unexpected that happiness and joy at that moment simply overwhelm.
It was the beginning of the summer holidays. It was a warm, sunny day then. I asked my mother to go for a walk. Running out of the house, the first thing I did was go after Kostya’s friend. He also asked my mother to take a walk with me. He had a cool, new soccer ball. We, of course, took him with us.
We left the entrance and headed towards the site. The road to the site lay through a small square. There were large, tall apple trees and small bushes along the sidewalk. As we passed the trees, we heard a growl and then a snort. A couple of minutes later the sound repeated again. Still not understanding where the sound came from, they were going to move on, but Kostya decided to look under the bushes.
There was an adult ginger cat who was aggressive against us. And next to her are five little kittens. Two were as red as her, and three were gray. They squeaked and poked each other. We felt very sorry for them. We thought that their mother was hungry and decided to feed them.
Kostya and I ran to our houses to get something for the cat to eat. Mom allowed me to take a piece of sausage, and Kostya brought a plastic bowl with milk and a blanket for the kittens. We carefully placed the food near the cat. At first she didn’t want to approach, she was probably afraid. But then, smelling the smell, she came over and ate. While she was eating, we put the kittens on a blanket so they wouldn't freeze.
When she had eaten everything, she went back to the kittens. Apparently to feed them. They were so small and helpless that Kostya and I decided to look after them until they grew up. Every day we came and fed the cat. She began to get used to us.
I went to the village with my parents for a week to visit my grandparents. I was very worried about the kittens. But Kostya promised to take care of them and not give them offense. When I arrived, the first thing I did was run to them. They grew up a lot and were already running around their mother.
We started looking for a home for them. Kostya took one. I also persuaded my mother to allow me to take one kitten. And we distributed the rest to neighbors. And they even installed a cat. Mom and her children began to live next door.
That's how one unexpected meeting gave these fluffies a home. I really enjoy playing with my new shaggy friend. When summer ended, the kittens had already become strong and mature.
Essay 8
Meetings can be different: joyful, sad, funny and others. They can also happen anywhere from the backyard to a random encounter on a mountain hike. However, one cannot help but say that every meeting is interesting. Yes, they are interesting in their own way, sometimes incredible, and sometimes boring, but still unique. I would like to tell you about my interesting meeting.
It happened on a quiet winter evening. That day I was very late in returning home, and therefore I walked along the street, my hands freezing (I, alas, forgot to take gloves). The only pleasant thing about this “walk” was that my back was not burdened by my backpack, and therefore my step was fast and impetuous. Perhaps this played a role in subsequent events.
Oddly enough, on that day (as well as on several that came before it) there was ice, which sometimes caused passers-by to get into tricky positions, trying not to fall into a snowdrift. And in one of these moments, when I was vigorously waving my arms so as not to shamefully prostrate myself on the ground, I accidentally managed to knock over someone’s bag. She fell onto the ice with a crash, and then a distinct crack of glass was heard. At that moment I became even colder, because it was not part of my plans to be accused of damaging someone’s property. And I, with a very desperate expression on my face, turned to that unfortunate man (although the question is debatable - who was more unfortunate then) whose banks I broke.
She was a tall and blond girl. She looked at the bag in surprise (there were four more of the same kind in her hands), and then laughed awkwardly. This laugh put me in a daze - that's not how people usually react when something like this happens to them. She, like some fairy-tale character, picked up her bag and looked at me with green eyes, apologizing for her awkwardness, and also added that it was hard to carry five bags at once. I rushed to apologize, complaining that in this situation the fault lay with me, internally shuddering at what could follow my words. But the girl remained adamant, saying only that if her conscience is tormenting her, then I can help carry the luggage to the nearest shop, instantly receiving my consent.
While we were walking to that same bench (as it turned out, the girl was going to call a taxi from it), I learned that there was paint in the package. And, if the bag is not torn, then everything is in order, Veronica (that was the name of the blond one) needed it to paint the furniture. It became interesting to me when she added that she made the furniture herself. As it turned out, the girl is engaged in creating various interior items, mainly from wood. And until the taxi arrived, we talked a little more about such an unusual activity, and then we didn’t meet. I hope someday we can see her again...
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