A procession of the cross appears with a lantern in front and with lit candles in the hands of believers, symbolizing the procession of the myrrh-bearing women to the Holy Sepulcher, who, heading at night to the Holy Sepulcher, according to legend, blessed their path with a lamp. A lantern is a glass lamp with a candle inside, mounted on a long handle, symbolizing the flame of faith, the light of Christ, enlightening everyone. Unlike a lantern, carrying lit candles can sometimes be difficult - the wind tends to blow them out. Therefore, it is better to take care in advance that the fire in your hands does not go out during the religious procession.
The optimal solution is Easter lanterns, which have become very popular lately. Although they do not look like the large Easter lantern carried in front of the religious procession, they perform the same practical function - they protect the light from unfavorable external conditions, primarily from wind and rain. And also - from attenuation, providing air flow through special holes.
The simplest Easter lanterns are made of plastic and have a metal lid with holes for air access. The advantage of such a flashlight is that it is cheap and will not break even if dropped. Disadvantages: flammability and lack of transparency of plastic. This Easter lantern shines less brightly than a glass one.
More “advanced” flashlights are made of transparent, non-flammable materials, usually glass. Their design is similar, but shapes and sizes may vary.
You can make the simplest Easter lantern with your own hands. For example, from an ordinary glass jar. For convenience, a wire bow is attached to its neck for carrying.
Making such Easter lanterns can become a form of creativity, especially for children - if you paint a jar with paints, decorate it with an appliqué made of colored paper or a pattern made of plasticine.
As a last resort, if there is no flashlight, an ordinary plastic bottle can replace it, or rather, the neck or lower part cut off from it.
To fix the candle as close to the center of the bottle as possible, you can pour a little sand, preferably wet sand, onto the bottom.
Instead of a bottle, a funnel-cone made of chocolate foil is quite suitable. It is better not to use paper for this purpose - it will catch fire.
Well, if you really don’t have anything at hand, you’ll have to use your hands yourself, covering the candle from the wind with your palms.
The main task of the lamp is to protect the light from unfavorable external conditions that are unfavorable for the existence of the flame, primarily from wind and rain. In addition to protection from blowing out, it is necessary to provide protection from attenuation, in other words: to ensure normal burning conditions for the candle or proper air flow and sufficient “working” space around the flame. At best, the lamp should be made of transparent, non-flammable materials, such as quartz glass, but the use of such materials will be too wasteful for mass use, especially if an ordinary plastic bottle can solve most of them.
Idea
In the simplest case, a plastic bottle with a cut off neck (glass) is often used as a lamp that protects the candle flame from the wind. But in such a simple lamp there are two significant problems: the candle inside the plastic glass must be fixed as close as possible to the longitudinal axis of the plastic bottle and ensure the flow of fresh air from the bottom up. In fact, the following several options for lamps made from plastic bottles are related to solving these problems.
Materials and tools
1. Plastic bottles. (1...2l, preferably a more oblong elongated shape).
Job
All options for lamps made from plastic bottles are united by the use of a glass (part of a plastic bottle with the neck cut off) from an oblong plastic bottle as an element to protect the flame from being blown out by the wind, and the flow of fresh air into the glass is ensured by a series of annular holes in the immediate vicinity of the bottom. The bottom of the glass also protects the surface of the lamp from possible contact with melted wax or paraffin, which is not always as painless as it seems.
The difference between the versions of the lamp made from a plastic bottle and each other lies in the design of the internal liner, which ensures the fixation of the candle along the longitudinal axis of the plastic bottle.
Lamp No. 1
The advantage of the first and main option, which I use most often, is the use of simple technology that only requires the bottom of a plastic bottle (). The manufacturing process takes no more than 15 minutes after work () and in a simplified version can be implemented outside the home. To do this, take an oblong-shaped plastic bottle so that a longer candle can be installed there and cut off the neck at a level that approximately corresponds to the diameter of the plastic bottle at the beginning of the conical narrowing to the flange of the threaded part ().
The cut neck is modified by making several through holes on the side walls of the conical part of such a funnel (). For subsequent ease of placement at the site of operation, it is better to melt the holes with a burner along the generatrices, as shown in. The neck part with such slotted holes is placed inside the plastic glass in close proximity to the bottom () and is fixed with the help of 3 plastic rivets () so that the axes of the glass and the neck part inserted inside coincide. To hold the plastic rivets inside the glass, it is convenient to use a clamp like this ().
After attaching the neck part inside the glass from a plastic bottle to the glass, you must remember to make holes for air flow. One dozen small holes around the circumference of the bottle at a height of about two centimeters from the base of the bottom () is quite enough for air supply purposes. By the way, if, when cutting off the neck part (), the diameter of the base of the cone turns out to be 0.5 cm less than the diameter of the plastic bottle (it is assumed that the plastic bottle is cylindrical in shape), then the holes on the neck part do not need to be made, after installing plastic rivets between the walls of the glass and the funnel insert () a small gap is obtained, which is quite enough to feed the flame with air.
To convert the resulting lamp () to working position it is located on a horizontal surface, and is installed inside. The base of the candle is placed inside the threaded part of the neck of a plastic bottle. A handful of sand is poured inside the glass. The candle is held with your fingers along the axis of the plastic bottle, and the glass is slightly shaken (). The sand moves through the neck to the bottom of the glass, and at the same time it compacts and holds the candle along the axis of the neck. Sand also acts as ballast and prevents the entire structure from tipping over in the wind. If there is too much sand poured in and it covers the inlet openings, it can be removed by continuing to shake the entire structure (). The sand will pour out through the inlet holes in the glass.
Lamp No. 2
If option No. 1 was intended to be placed on a horizontal surface, then option No. 2 is more likely intended to be held in hands, where the use of ballast is not required. It differs from the previous one in that it more securely holds the candle along the axis of the plastic bottle, preventing the flame from deforming or setting fire to the plastic of the bottle. To do this, the height of holding the candle in its lower part needs to be made larger, which is achieved using a butterfly insert ().
The liner consists of two neck parts () from plastic bottles of the same volume and configuration (preferably with a wider cone). The neck parts remain from the manufacture of, for example, such an organizer(). From these same parts, two “turntables” are made, which are interlocked with their necks outward () so that a butterfly insert is formed (). A candle, even if it is much smaller than the diameter of the hole in the neck of a plastic bottle, will not deviate too much to the side from the axis of the protective glass, since the deviations are blocked in two places in height at a considerable distance.
The butterfly insert is installed inside a plastic glass and fixed with plastic rivets in the same way as the first version of a lamp made from a plastic bottle (). You should also remember to melt holes for air flow with a burner.
Lamp No. 3
The third version of a lamp made from a plastic bottle is more difficult to manufacture than the previous two, but automatically solves the problem of holding the candle along the axis of the plastic bottle due to the springy properties of strips of PET plastic.
To obtain a spring liner according to the third version of the lamp, the height of the cone of the neck of the plastic bottle should be 10...15 cm. This is required to form petals of sufficient length. The petals of the two varieties are cut from the base of the cone to the flange along the generatrices of the cone and have different widths (). The inner petal, about 1cm wide, is bent inside the neck and threaded through it. The width of the outer petal is obtained automatically and depends on the total number of petals, which can be from 6 to 12.
The outer petals bend outwards from the conical part and are fixed with plastic rivets so that the plastic rivet stitches two adjacent corners of the outer petals and the end of the inner petal threaded into the neck (). As a result of installing all the rivets, the number of which depends on the number of petals, the design of the liner will slightly resemble a crown. Thanks to its springy properties, installing such a crown inside a plastic cup does not even require the use of fixing plastic rivets, although I did not refuse them.
When using option No. 3 of a lamp from a plastic bottle, the candle is held inside the threaded neck of the bottle using springy internal petals without any outside intervention (), but for stationary use and counterweight, I always pour a handful of sand inside.
Note
1. If the height of the plastic bottle turns out to be insufficient, it can be easily increased.
To prevent the candle from being blown out by the wind
Through a thick veil of snow, falling in large flakes, a bus moved, swaying. The measuredly running windshield wipers cleared the windshield of snowflakes that had stuck in a thick mass, and their creaking, merging with the noise of the engine, created a peculiar melody - sad and soothing.
Some of the passengers were sleepy, others indulged in their thoughts.
The young woman was different from them. From the moment the bus set off, she cried continuously, turning to the window and often wiping her tears with a handkerchief. Before she started crying, she looked around the bus, as if trying to find someone she knew. Then she quickly turned away, apparently not seeing anyone.
Ashmi noticed that she had large eyes - dark blue or green; he was unable to accurately determine their color. From the way she looked, he realized that she was a Chechen, a refugee who was forced by the war to leave her home.
A refugee's perspective is different from others. No matter in what part of the world he is, a refugee remains a refugee - a person deprived of shelter, hearth, who left his homeland... He cannot be understood by anyone who was not a refugee himself, but someone who was one will understand: there is emptiness in the heart of a refugee, an endless desert where cold winds howl forever. No, this is not a sandy desert scorched by the sun - it is covered with snow and ice, endless, permafrost that will never thaw.
He, Ashmi, felt the cold of this desert ten years ago. At that time, he worked for the only Chechen newspaper in the world, lived in the house of relatives, wrote articles about literature, culture, customs, and traditions. He didn’t need anything else, as long as everything around him remained as it was: so that every morning he could go to work at the Printing House, return home, cook dinner for himself, make plans for the future...
But everything changed in one day: the order, which seemed unshakable, collapsed, fell apart, became a thing of the past; Many of his comrades saw something good and new in this chaos and reproached him for showing sympathy for the authorities, although he had never been a member of the party.
One day, returning from work, Ashmi saw how a cable was attached to the Lenin monument (it’s amazing how this frail, middle-aged man, unhealthy in appearance, independently, like a spider, climbed onto the monument in order to throw a cable around Lenin’s neck) and the KAMAZ toppled his. Ashmi said to his comrades standing nearby: “This is barbaric.” Because of this remark, whether he wanted it or not, he became known as the “defender of the party.”
Soon the accusations escalated even more. “Don’t you remember,” they told him, “how you were dragged around to various authorities because you wrote articles about Chechen life, about water mills, about the importance of horses in the economy of the mountaineers, about the peculiar architecture of the towers?” He remembered this and everything else, but his heart told him that the thoughtless actions of these people would lead to great trouble.
One evening, seeing two people at a rally - an employee of the House of Culture, who carefully studied the works of Marx, Engels and Lenin to join the party, almost slept, putting them under his pillow, and also a poet who wrote laudatory poems, not missing a single red day of the calendar,” they boldly spoke out, accusing well-known people in the region, threatening the most powerful state in the world, he was finally convinced of this. What was surprising was not that they became so bold, but that they so easily and recklessly overstepped the rules of decency that Chechens had hitherto observed and stopped observing etiquette in relationships and conversations among themselves. Even before the two of them left the television building, Ashmi felt the chill of rudeness emanating from them - the rudeness of people to whom everything is allowed... Then they penetrated into different institutions... They liked the Radio House most of all...
The same song was played on the radio day and night:
The wind is blowing cold, cold...
Perhaps other songs were sung then, other conversations were held, but it was this one that remained in his memory:
Barga, barga, barga, barga...
Morning, afternoon, evening, midnight, dawn:
The wind is blowing, cold, cold...
It turns out that they sang about the wind that now constantly blows in his soul...
Approaching the outskirts of a village, the driver slowed down slightly. The day was approaching evening; the snow didn't stop falling. On the streets of the village people were seen doing household chores, as well as cattle driven out to water. There was a man standing at the bus stop, he asked to stop the bus. In front of him stood several boxes of humanitarian aid from the Red Cross. The bus stopped and the man stood up with his boxes.
“Hey, Chechens, there are so many of you,” said the old man sitting in the front seat, laughing at his remark. – And here you are, and in Grozny, and in Moscow, and abroad... There turned out to be as many of you as there were Chinese.
The refugee, without answering, sat down in the place given to him by the young man and placed boxes of humanitarian aid in front of him.
No one supported the old man’s joke; it in no way corresponded to the depressed and sad atmosphere that reigned here. The old man himself, apparently realizing this, quickly took out his rosary from his pocket and began to finger them.
And a young woman was crying at the window, often wiping her tears and looking at the child she was holding in her arms.
Ashmi thought again.
The wind is blowing, cold, cold...
Yes, to this song people, violating all boundaries and prohibitions, became embittered, rushed about frantically, talking about what they themselves did not believe in, proclaiming the unrealizable, furiously conjuring, passionately exposing, boiling cauldrons in the streets, eating meat. They did not distinguish between what was permitted and what was not, they belittled what was great, reviled what was worthy, abandoned their household, wandered around the city like animals... Thieves taught, madmen treated, plump women howled like wolves, thin women enlisted in the army, hens crowed like roosters, cats barked like a dog, the horses neighed like a donkey, the donkeys kicked - everything began to spin, foreshadowing something terrible.
The war... It was not as easy as the old men in the squares predicted, their eyes sparkling, but it was difficult, cruel, with bombings of cities and villages.
Ashmi stayed for quite a long time in his house, located on the outskirts of the city: they say, I haven’t done anything bad to anyone, so nothing threatens me. But when an old woman died on his street from a rocket fragment - she was grazing her brown cow, selling milk and getting by on this - he realized that war does not decide who is to blame and who is not: this dragon doesn’t care, as long as there is prey that can be swallow.
Ashmi went to the mountains, to the village where he was born and raised. There he put his grandfather's house in order and spent five months saying goodbye to life every time planes flying from the plain began to bomb the outskirts of the village. It’s good that he moved to the village: his mother and relatives were nearby, they consoled him, he consoled them, and were each other’s support. Who knows what would have happened in the city?
Five months later, at the beginning of spring, when the villagers dug up and sowed their gardens, jumping into holes dug in the yard during an airplane raid - the mountaineers did not have basements, they never thought that there would be a need for them - yes, at that time, When the mountain slopes turn green and yellow and light blue flowers appear, he, loading his belongings onto the car, went to the city. He didn’t know what was going on in the city, he was worried about those remaining in the village. The thought flashed in my mind: “If in the name of the state they bomb their own citizens, without distinguishing between the guilty and the innocent, based on the fact that someone will simply be hit, the world, people have changed, they have moved into a different quality, in which the concepts of “good” do not differ – evil”, “cruelty – mercy”.
He was even more convinced of this when at one of the checkpoints, seeing a crowd of people (like him, townspeople were returning from the mountains to their homes), he asked the question: “Why are they detaining people?” Having received no answer, he went straight to the soldiers and got a red ID from his pocket and barely had time to hand it over with the words: “I am a member of the Union of Journalists of the USSR,” when a soldier with a scarf on his head stopped him, pulled the bolt of his machine gun and shouted: “At least be an astronaut!” I don't care! Get out!”
Yes, the USSR no longer existed, and the world changed.
Then he saw the city: the center was completely destroyed, the outskirts were destroyed, the places where he walked as a child were mutilated beyond recognition, plowed up by the war, the chimneys of destroyed houses were smoked all around. But still, for some time, people, confident that troubles and hardships were left behind forever, were energetic. Turkish companies surrounded the ruins in the city center with a beautiful fence and hung them with white paper, on which there were some inscriptions in their language. Most people felt an impulse to create, a desire to clear everything, restore, and rebuild.
But it turned out that the real evil was just beginning - neither he, who, having settled on television, began making programs about folk traditions and the need for their revival, nor she, a girl with big blue eyes and blond hair, knew about this at that time. She hosted the “Capital” program in Russian, talking about the bright future of the Chechen capital, finding its germs in positive little things.
They were close to each other not only because of their faith in the future. Ashmi liked her big blue eyes, amazingly blue, like flowers that appear at the beginning of spring. He wasn't the only one who noticed them. There were many of them. But she chose him.
Perhaps the reason for this was an incident that occurred during video filming in the Vedeno region, when kidnappers tried to capture them, and he, taking out a grenade and holding the pin, saved them from impending disaster.
Or she liked the fact that he was with her when the roads were blocked and people were not allowed to leave the mountains (her grandmother lived in a small mountain farm), and their hearts were torn, like the sky, from the roar of constantly flying planes, forgetting about fatigue , knocked on the doorsteps of officials with requests and statements, wrote first polite, then impartial telegrams to Yeltsin in Moscow: “... if Chechnya is a subject of Russia, ensure the right to life of your citizens”... After a week of hassle, thanks to the help of an international humanitarian organization, there was finally a corridor was given along a forest road, and Ashmi and Elima came to the village together. People, driven to despair by the bombings, ran towards them, crying; Likening them to saints who had come to the rescue, they fussed, and he, comforting them, asking them to notify everyone, made a short speech to them.
Perhaps Elima made her choice because of another incident. This happened on a narrow forest road (it’s good that there was no rain, otherwise there would have been impassable mud), the cars moved down and collided in a cloud of dust, one of them fell into the abyss, people were injured; Ashmi gave away the editorial car to take out the wounded. (Then she looked at him in a special way, surprised and admiring).
But, it turns out, he was mistaken in this too: a year after they met, she herself spoke about the reason for her choice: “Although in appearance I seemed to be a carefree person, there was sadness in my heart, I was worried about my future fate, I didn’t know how I would live in this cruel world, because I am the only child of elderly parents. It seemed to me that you sensed my insecurity, I noticed compassion in you, a desire to become a support for my lost soul.” - He answered her: “I didn’t notice anything, I just saw your big blue eyes - two Kezenoi lakes...” - “Once you asked why I don’t wear dark glasses, said that they would suit me... I thought a lot about this. Why did you say that? - "Do you know why? So that the reflections of strangers do not swim in the lakes of your eyes... I was the only one who needed them...” After that, she laughed for a long time: “I didn’t even think that you were like that...”
She was gone now, and it seemed to him that no one else could have such eyes. Up to this day...
A woman with such eyes sat on this bus, in front of him, she cried continuously, every now and then looking at her child, smiling in his sleep. There was a great desire to talk to her, ask her about everything, console her, ease her grief. But he did not do this, because it was unknown how she would perceive his participation, how the people here would interpret it... He thought again.
Ashmi married Elima, inexpensively bought a dilapidated house on the outskirts of the city, restored it with the help of relatives, but had not even lived there for two months when the fate of Grozny turned upside down again.
The militants entered the city and captured it, and the federals randomly bombed and mortared residential buildings. The militants did not even think of leaving, they quickly settled, opened a prison, began to detain “people who sold themselves to the Russians,” and hastily bring them to trial, as if afraid of not being able to make it in time.
Ashmi and his wife were also among them because they worked in television.
Therefore, a neighbor who was worried about him (despite persuasion, he often went to the city center to find out what was what; nothing happened to him during that war, but in the second war he was blown up by a mine) - yes, that neighbor said so that Ashmi and his wife leave, because it will be difficult for him and everyone who knows them to survive if something happens to Ashmi and Elima. “Don’t worry, we’ll think about it and decide something...”
“No matter how late you are, no matter how late you are.” Abdul-Gapur somehow sadly shook his head, folding his hands behind his back. For a moment he seemed to Ashmi like a man standing at a funeral; He also imagined a funeral, his own funeral, at which saddened people stood. This picture scared him, although it was only a vision, who knows, maybe there is some kind of sign in it? On this day, he and his wife set off on a journey. Abdul-Gapur drove them in his old car to the top of the Suir-Kort slope - there it stopped, it ran out of gas. Abdul-Gapur told them to quickly move on, since they still couldn’t help him, to save themselves, go down to the village of Gikalo and move on.
They obeyed him, left on foot, and along the way they came across two cars fired from helicopters - a Kamaz and a UAZ... The cars were still smoking, burning out... Four were killed, five were injured. The dead and wounded have already been taken away...
The cars got stuck in the dust, as if in a swamp, roaring strainedly, twitching in place, then they seemed more unhappy than those walking. People, unable to bear the plaintive roar of the cars, pushed them; if there were spaces, one or two of those walking sat in them... But this did not make the number of people on foot smaller, there were a lot of them. When planes began to circle in the sky, they took cover in roadside holes and thickets, and the cars continued to move. They were in greater danger than pedestrians, since they were clearly visible from airplanes, and therefore completely defenseless...
One driver, recognizing Ashmi, stopped his bus full of people and opened the doors with the words: “If you can, get in...” But Ashmi waved his hand and told him to move on. The bus disappeared in a cloud of dust, just like this one in the snow now...
Interrupting his thoughts, he again drew attention to the woman at the window and her child... Again, with all his soul and body, he felt the peculiar warmth of the past. He regretted that time and mentally went back again.
Of course, these were not regrets about the past itself, but about the relationship with Elima, he recalled their aching sweetness. And that time was difficult, and strange, and funny, and merciless, like terrible dreams in which everything was mixed up. A time when pompous speeches were made, filled with solemn words; when well-fed women composed hymns in honor of the winners, and artists composed songs, after which the heroes became even bolder and began to threaten the whole world; when in every village they erected high trumpet steles for those killed in the war, sacrifices were held; when weddings took place; when people were kidnapped and then sold for money; when they carried out executions in squares where many curious people gathered; when on television, created with money allocated by one famous Jew, songs were heard about how they would liberate Jerusalem from the Jews; when gangs plundered the “butter of the motherland” and robbed people; when those who wanted to live honestly found it difficult to get by; when lonely old people were killed in order to appropriate their houses; when in the mosques the front rows were occupied by robbers who sacrificed part of the loot and again committed murders and kidnappings... It was an apocalypse, some kind of apocalypse.
Days passed - without work, without salary, even if I got a job, then without pay, seeing all around me the ever-increasing dances of injustice - in the dust of a destroyed city, in the mud when it rained or snowed. It became increasingly difficult to earn one's bread honestly. Poverty, the realization that neither you nor your knowledge were in demand in your homeland, chilled your heart; I wanted to go somewhere, where there is no hypocrisy, no people, into nature, to leave before the day ends, until night falls...
And when night came, you had to return home, bolt the gate, close the doors, curtain the windows and take cover, putting a weapon at the head of the head, and every time you heard the noise of a car on the street, grab your weapon, thinking that they were coming for you... The night was not calmed, on the contrary, it increased anxiety; this anxiety, filling the whole world, splashed over the edges; she filled his heart in the same way, and therefore one of them - either he or the world - had to explode...
But neither the world nor he himself exploded, and a bomb dropped from an airplane exploded on their street, killing five - among them two children returning from school.
He felt sorry for Elima, who, in the hope that she would have a family, a normal life, peace, having believed in him, left her home, leaving her mother alone...
One day Elima told him that he had to leave, because there were no longer two of them, but three. This news made him temporarily forget what was happening: the bombing, the confusion of people. It temporarily freed him from despair, Ashmi stopped feeling danger. But before the day was over, the anxiety increased a hundredfold due to fear for the life of his son (or daughter - it doesn’t matter, it was his child...).
He now had no right to stay where the war was going on - if necessary, he would go even to the ends of the earth, he had no money, but he would still leave, even on foot...
He moved to the village, but the same thing happened there as in the city: the outskirts and the center of the village were bombed. People died, animals that grazed died; More animals died, fewer people died...
Ashmi wanted to quickly leave this region, taking her loved ones with her (among them was their unborn child, which only he and Elima knew about).
There were twelve people who decided to leave. Having loaded what they had taken with them onto the cars, they headed towards the Ingush border.
Cars were moving both in front and behind them, and planes were circling above them. They constantly bombed and fired rockets at the roadsides. As soon as the planes appeared, a young man, driving a UAZ two cars ahead of them, jumped off and, pointing the camera upward, began filming.
When he had done this several times, one old man leaned out of the car and shouted: “Boy, you don’t need to do this.” But he didn’t listen. The planes appeared again, the guy jumped out of the car again. Noise, explosions, flashes - then moans, screams, crying... It turns out that the planes launched missiles. Both the filmer and the old man who talked him out of it, as well as many other people, died - nineteen people in total. Cars were smashed and burned. Their car was not hit, God had mercy...
People who were held for three days without being allowed to cross the border were finally allowed through. Ashmi remembered the dragon from the fairy tale, who lay around the spring, not letting him near the water until a girl or boy was sacrificed to him... The dragon that blocked their path did not eat so easily, it took him to swallow nineteen people...
The bus stopped. People began to leave... The crying woman, wiping her tears, headed towards the exit, holding a child in her arms.
Yes, fleeing the war last time, they stopped here, at this bus station. It was getting dark and cold. Ashmi met with a Chechen from Grozny. His name was Buvaysar. He rented two rooms and called Ashmi over: “Come in, let’s while away the night, and tomorrow we’ll figure out something.” There were twelve of them, and there were six more... There were eighteen people in two rooms... The night was difficult, especially for Elima. She couldn't get enough air. She went out several times. She stayed in the yard until she started to freeze, then returned to the house.
Cars arrived at the bus station until the very morning, the voices of refugees, noise, crying of children were heard...
Some refugees lit fires from old tires and spent the night outside warming themselves around them.
At dawn, Ashmi began to walk around this small town, entering each courtyard, asking if they would accept guests for some payment... But, according to the owners, the houses were occupied by people fleeing the war; two or three said that they would rent the house for one hundred dollars, but they did not agree for less.
He returned when it was already getting dark; my legs ached from walking for a long time. He could not look into Elima's eyes that evening. “I haven’t found housing,” he said, without raising his gaze, which was fixed on the floor; An unusual silence settled in the room, a silence filled with dissatisfaction with him. Everyone was dissatisfied with him: both those living here - because they came and made their lives difficult, and those who came with him - because he did not take them away from this house, did not settle them somewhere.
What could he do? If I had known that this would happen, I would have stayed at home...
Buvaisar broke this painful silence:
– Don’t be upset, it’s not so easy to find housing here. Tomorrow we'll look together...
On the second day, everything repeated: after walking until the evening, he returned, tired as a dog... On the third day, seeing Maksherip, who worked with him at the newspaper, he calmed down somewhat: he was from this city, he could help... Grabbing his sleeve, Ashmi stopped him as he passed by.
“I didn’t find out... You’ll be rich,” said Maksherip.
- Yes, I have changed so much that it is no longer possible to recognize me... A lot of time has passed since we parted - a whole six months...
Maksherip's affairs, according to him, were even worse than his. It’s impossible to find housing here, maybe it’s better to go to Vladikavkaz or Nalchik...
That day Buvaysar also found nothing. On the fourth day, when he went out into the yard, he heard a conversation between Buvaysar and his wife.
- What are you talking about? Do you want me to tell these people to leave?
– If you don’t say this, we will all suffocate here... People live in tents, in carriages, let them go there.
- Be patient! Be patient! – Buvaysar shouted.
Voices came from behind the house, he slowly, trying to remain unnoticed, stepped aside and, breathless, began to wander through the streets of this small town. When rare passers-by began to carefully examine him, he wiped his face with his hands... It was wet from tears that flowed against his will. Tears fell like this snow now...
He wandered for a long time that evening... He found something similar to housing. They said that they would install a potbelly stove, you can move in the next day...
After it got dark, he returned to the house that Buvaisar had rented. He stood in the yard, waiting for him. “Your wife felt bad, she was taken to the hospital,” he said...
Not far from him at the bus stop, in the middle of the snow, stood the same woman who was crying on the bus. In the gathering darkness, no one was visible except them.
-You didn’t call me?
- Several times already.
- Yes, carried away by my thoughts, I didn’t hear anything. What's happened?
– You don’t know how to find Gorky Street here?
- Of course I know. I walked around all the streets here. They are all bleak and bitter. What kind of house do you need?.. Yes, you need to go that way. I'll accompany you. I'm in no hurry. What is your name? Padam? Okay, Padam. My name is Ashmi. Give me your bag... I'll accompany you, follow me... We need to go far enough.
“And I will continue to remember... Thoughts are oppressive if you don’t bring them to the end... So I will continue... Thoughts filled with sad memories. Yes, Padam, you, your eyes took me back to the past, to memories. Now listen if you want; If you don't want it, you don't need it. I am returning again to those days, to the rainy, cold autumn days...
I immediately went to the hospital. The doctor said: “The baby died in the womb, several days have passed, her blood is infected... An urgent operation is needed... A lot of blood is needed... to transfuse... blood... a lot of blood...” I donated blood until I fell unconscious. Buvaysar and many refugees from Chechnya surrendered... Chechens donated a lot of blood. Blood, blood... But it didn’t save Elima...
Before she died, she called me: “I don’t see you, but I feel you,” she said. “Don’t despair too much about my death... But don’t forget me... Don’t be alone, get married.”
Yes, Padam, she died a few days later... She was buried here in the cemetery, since no one dared to take her body home... Some taxi driver said: “There are a lot of dead people at home without her, they don’t even have time to bury them.” I was not offended by him... What difference does it make where a person is buried... The earth created by God is one...
Are you listening to me, Padam? Are you saying you can't hear well? Nothing, I'm telling myself this...
Barbie doll. ... warehouses wooden boxes... cheap " musi"pussy" pop... who came to grab and stories to the death of the doomed... in one, favorites us place, ... requests from the policeman. -Remember, Ahmad, everyone will be alive and...
Note!
DocumentDzhambula, Musa Jalila... wooden... A., my friends dolls, M., ; ... -xyy) Ahmad Bello in... elected Tome Tale
Note!
DocumentDzhambula, Musa Jalila... wooden... A., my friends dolls, M., ; ... -xyy) Ahmad Bello in... elected Senior Russian scout He emigrated in 1920. On about. Principe (now Republic of Santos) Tome... Vladimir Monomakh, M. - L., 1946; Tale temporary years, part 1, M. - ...
A mixture of piety and superstition
Thursday candle (quadruple, passionate, terrible candle, gospel fire) - a candle endowed with special properties, lit on Maundy Thursday in the church during the evening service, consisting of Thursday supper and Good Friday matins, during the reading of the 12 Gospels. The Orthodox Church sees in it a sign of the ardent love of believers for the Savior.
Among the people, the light of this candle was considered holy. At the end of the service, the candle was not extinguished; everyone carried it home burning. They believed that if the candle went out, a misfortune would happen to a person, and the one who brought the light home safely would live peacefully until next year. To protect from the wind, the candle was sometimes surrounded by a red, yellow or orange paper lantern. At home, they first lit a lamp from it, and then with soot or smoke they placed crosses on the mat, above the front door and windows, “so that the grace of the Lord would not fade away in the house.” With a candle in his hands, the owner walked around the house, yard, barn, looking into every dark corner, illuminating it. Walking with a candle and baptism were intended to protect the household and family from the evil eye and evil spirits, to reinforce and re-define the boundaries of the internal space inaccessible to evil spirits, to protect it from the dangerous influences of the outside world at the moment when the border between the otherworldly and real worlds was revealed.
The greatest magical power was attributed to the candle, which was lit during church services not only on Thursday, but also on Friday when the shroud was taken out, as well as at the morning of Bright Sunday (Easter). The candle stub was kept all year, and on the next Maundy Thursday it was used to set fire to the wood in the stove in the morning. It was lit in front of the icons on the morning of the first cattle pasture. They blessed the newlyweds with a passionate candle, lit it during fires and major thunderstorms to protect the house from lightning, during difficult childbirth or during illness it was given into the hands of those suffering from pain to ease the torment. For the same purpose, the patient was given water to drink, which was poured over the candle stub. But if no means helped, and the patient died, the candle stub was lit when the soul began to fly away.
In the Perm province, in order to protect cattle from misfortunes and get good offspring from them, they were accompanied to the pasture for the first time on Yegoryev’s day with the stub of a Thursday candle. In some places, peasants believed that on Midsummer's Eve, with the stub of this candle, you could get a fern flower and an invisibility cap, with the help of which you could become rich. The water that was poured over the candle was also used as a love spell. If the husband did not love his wife or the wife of her husband, Perm peasants advised giving him or her this water to drink.
Kholodnaya Vera Georgievna
Ethnographical museum
It should be understood that attributing magical properties to the Thursday candle is superstition and goes against the teachings of the Orthodox Church, according to which help and healing are provided not through some magical actions, but through prayer and appeal to God, with a willingness to accept His will, whatever it may be .
At the same time, the pious custom of treating with special reverence the fire of a candle that burned during the reading of the Twelve Passionate Gospels, bringing it home and lighting household lamps from it does not contain anything bad.
Reading time: 16 minutes.
Many Christians have long noticed the special power of the flame of a church candle, and even felt its influence on themselves. Therefore, not a single church, temple or cathedral can do without using a large number of candles. Why can many of us stare at the fire for quite a long time without stopping? But before we reveal the secret, we’ll tell you what a church candle is. Typically, a church candle contains animal fat and beeswax. In the center there is a wick - the source of fire. Fire is the basis of life. A candle is its miniature representative in our home. The flame of a candle calms, stabilizes the flow of thought, reacts to our presence, and sometimes smokes and smokes completely inexplicably..... For Christians, a church candle is a gift to reinforce prayer. St. Seraphim compares a candle with human life: wax is faith, a lamp is hope, fire is love. For a believer, a church candle is an expression of love for God and neighbors. This is part of the power of God to help in difficult moments of life. Church candles define the worship service, are used to express worship of God, and are a symbol of divine light.
Many Christians have long noticed the special power of the flame of a church candle, and even felt its influence on themselves. Therefore, not a single church, temple or cathedral can do without using a large number of candles. Why can many of us stare at the fire for quite a long time without stopping? But before we reveal the secret, we’ll tell you what a church candle is. Typically, a church candle contains animal fat and beeswax. In the center there is a wick - the source of fire. Fire is the basis of life. A candle is its miniature representative in our home. The flame of a candle calms, stabilizes the flow of thought, reacts to our presence, and sometimes smokes and smokes completely inexplicably..... For Christians, a church candle is a gift to reinforce prayer . St. Seraphim compares a candle to human life: the wax is faith, the lamp is hope, the fire is love. For a believer, a church candle is an expression of love for God and neighbors. This is part of the power of God to help in difficult moments of life. Church candles determine the accessory of worship, are used to express worship of God, and are a symbol of divine light. The power of a church candle lies in the cleansing property that, first of all, the all-consuming flame has. Negative thoughts, negative energy, illnesses - everything is burned by fire. Since ancient times, people began to use a candle as a magical tool. Now not a single ritual is complete without a candle. The composition and energy of a church candle contribute to the purification of not only space and thoughts. Therefore, it is especially important that they are in every home. It is advisable to choose a day and light church candles in each room on this day every week to cleanse the room. Since lower entities of the subtle world are always present in a person’s home, which cannot stand the power of a church flame, when a candle burns they leave the house, taking with them negative, destructive energy. After energy cleansing of the room, being in it becomes much easier and calmer. The beneficial influence of a church candle is strengthened and consolidated by prayer. A church candle has the power to cleanse the human energy field. Any intractable problem will seem insignificant when working with a candle. The flame of a church candle relieves emotional heaviness, provides peace of mind and harmony. A church candle knows how to keep secrets, tell it everything that has been accumulating in your heart for so long. Mental connection with a candle flame allows you to cleanse your thoughts and soul. Fire burns pain, despair, melancholy. Prayers will be heard, requests will be fulfilled much faster if you speak them to a church candle. The spatial power of fire is represented in a small candle flame. Therefore, do not underestimate the power of a church candle. It contains enormous energy potential. In magical practice, church candles are a separate category in a number of magical attributes. They can be used in any ritual. Working with church candles is especially effective during rituals of purification and forgiveness: when removing damage, healing, as well as the lapel ritual. All church candles are divided according to their composition. But any candle must be blessed. Sometimes, when burning, a candle makes a characteristic crackling sound; this is considered the most positive result of the work, since you can visually monitor the destruction of the negative. In an energetically dirty room, a church candle should crackle, splash and smoke a lot. The effect of burning negative energy will be noticeable to a person. In an energetically clean room, the candle flame burns evenly and calmly. Just like with a person with a pure biofield. The church candle itself carries a very large charge of positive energy. Therefore, it is necessary to work with candles only with good intentions and pure thoughts. Any dark forces retreat before the power of a church candle. Fire does not allow evil to enter the house and even the heart of a person. A church candle is a representative of the Christian faith, a small guard to protect peace and tranquility in your home.
THE MAGIC OF CANDLE COLOR
In addition to church candles, you can use ordinary candles to achieve your goals, but you should know some features. There is a huge variety of candles: in size, shape and design, as you can see by visiting a good candle store. In a magical sense, beeswax candles are ideal - because of the symbolism of the bee and because it is a natural product. Since each color has its own distinctive property, you will need to choose a candle for your need. Knowing the meaning of different candle colors makes it easier to achieve certain goals. For rituals, and in general, it is worth buying good candles, made of colored paraffin or wax. You should not take dousing candles; with them you will not be able to feel the energy. Proper use of the color of a candle allows in many cases to reduce one’s own work to creating an intention, and everything else is done “according to the program” with a burning candle. Magical correspondences for candle color: White - Purity, purification, protection. Any goals Black - Revenge, curses, damage, love spell at any cost, getting rid of negative emotions, contact with the dead Red - Love, happiness, improving health, driving out evil, improving fate. Passion and creativity. Pink - Love, friendship, happiness Orange - Attracting sympathy, success. Work, career. Yellow - Predictions, fortune telling, removing obstacles and everything that brings misfortune. Intelligence. Green - Prosperity, material well-being, rebirth, good luck. Money, healing. Blue - Development and strengthening of parapsychic capabilities Blue - Fighting fear, protection from otherworldly forces. Calmness, wisdom Violet - Strengthening fortitude, treatment of serious illnesses, magic. Spirituality. Purple - Contact with otherworldly forces, achieving power, overcoming something.Brown - Treatment of pets, all housing problems. Silver - Animism, animal powers
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