Человек, совершивший невозможное

A man who committed the impossible, reading Slava Kurilov's book One in the Ocean. Dear friends, today I will tell you an uninvented story about a man who committed an incredible act. He jumped into the ocean from the Soviet Union liner in order to escape from the country of the Soviet Union. A crazy act, but not a crazy act. Slava Kurilov jumped into the ocean on December 13, 1974. It all started like this. Slava writes in his book One in the Ocean. The day when I was denied a visa to work on the oceanographic ships of long-distance sailing for the first time, my patience ran out. Usually, I was denied without giving a reason. This time, in my personal case, there was a sentence. Comrade Kurilov, the visit of the capitalist states is considered inappropriate. I felt as if I was being compensated. Everything in me went up in smoke. This is, of course, hopeless. A life sentence without the slightest hope for freedom. Paradoxically, but at the same time, it seemed to be complete hopelessness. Slava lost his fear. What an amazing state when there is no more fear, he writes. He is free from the patriotic vows that the Soviet society imposed on everyone since childhood, without exception. He realizes the absurdity of life in a communist state for the sake of some stupid ideas. And you were born on a beautiful blue planet. At that moment, Slava was ready for the craziest actions. Soon, on one beautiful cloudy day, Slava reads an ad in the newspaper that a large passenger liner is going to the equator. The cruise is called From Winter to Summer. The place of gathering of tourists is the city of Vladivostok. The liner walks along the open sea, without entering foreign ports, so no visas for tourists are required. Slava writes that a mad joy awoke in him, as if he was offered a ticket to another planet. The inner voice whispered to him, this is your only chance, make up your mind. To all his creatures, Slava realized that he could not refuse this trip and that he takes a ticket only in one direction, there, to the wild jungle of freedom. Yes, he will look at the face of death, but he will never forgive himself for refusing and will not be able to sit in a quiet corner of the TV all his life. Slava did not think that making a decision is already an action. Now he has to part with his loved ones for the rest of his life. How good it would be to take a walk in freedom, take your soul away and return to your own, but here, only in one end, without return. And, of course, it's scary, very scary. Slava went to say goodbye to his close friends, without telling them about the ticket to the ship. No one could have guessed that two weeks later they would receive the news that their best friend disappeared without a trace off the coast of the Philippines. On the eve of the flight to Vladivostok, Slava walked along the outskirts of Leningrad and wandered into an unfamiliar street, where he saw a church. He went in. The monotonous, melancholy singing never worried him, but today, hearing the music, he suddenly felt that he was taking off. He flies high, along with the singing, where there is love, silence and peace. He returned home, went to bed early and saw a dream. In front of me there were four people in long white clothes. I did not see the face of the one who stood opposite me. The heads of the others were surrounded by luminous nimbus. I had seen such nimbus before only on icons and thought they were symbolic signs, distinguishing the holy from the ordinary mortals. The heads of the three people standing to the left were surrounded by the luminous nimbus. First of all, this is an amazing, beautiful sight. The rays of the living light came not from the head, but a little further, and suddenly broke off at about 15-20 cm. I remember that I noticed that, from the point of view of physics, this is completely inexplicable. The rays of light cannot break off so abruptly. I never thought that a white-blue light could have so many shades. It seemed completely alive, soft, and at the same time resembled the shimmering glow of a precious stone. The three of these people sometimes seemed to address each other, turned and freely changed positions, and I could see their nimbus from different angles of view. I watched the whole picture with great curiosity, and I was so absorbed by this extraordinary sight that I completely forgot about the first person. But at that moment I felt a close look, and immediately realized that he was coming out of him, standing right in front of me. There, where there should have been a face, appeared a dazzling golden light like the sun. At first, I did not see anything. I was completely blind, but still I could not take my eyes off. At first I saw eyes. I will never forget this sight, huge, penetrating, capable of reading the most secretive thoughts. I felt like I was in front of him, like on his palm. Gradually, I was able to see the whole face, as if it were woven from golden rays. Clearly, I saw only the eyes, and I felt the gaze of all my beings. This was my last impression. Then I found myself on some other level, where there was neither good nor evil, there was only love. When I woke up, Slava remembered this amazing dream well. He realized that something extremely important and very good would happen to him soon. Will he be alive? Will he be dead? It does not matter. Slava felt that an extraordinary force entered him. The liner of the Soviet Union was built as a solid prison so that it was impossible to jump off it. Only Tarzan, probably, could run across the upper deck and dive with a swallow as far as possible from the body from a height of 20 meters. Slava saw only two places where he could jump. He chose to jump between the blades of a giant propeller. Behind his shoulders there was a lot of experience of jumping off rocks from small ships. But Slava had never jumped from such a height of a ship going at full speed and never turned away from the rotating propellers of the engine. It was necessary to determine the location of the ship in the Pacific Ocean, the path of which was strictly classified by the command. Slava had a map of the Pacific Ocean, a starry sky and binoculars. He had to know the route in order to determine the closest passage of the liner to the shore. And he was able to determine the point of the jump in the area of the small island of Siargao. And you will have to jump only at night so that no one can see you. The passengers on the ship had a great time. Nothing could stop them from having a great time. Many of the inhabitants of the liner were not so drunk as crazy from the unprecedented degree of freedom for the Soviet man. In the fun, everything felt more and more like an explosion. People tried to forget at any cost. Everyone knew that very soon this ghostly life that they got for only 20 days would end and everyone would return there together. As many people as possible could fit into the decks so that they could better express their mental state. For an uneducated person the liner could easily fit into a cheerful crazy house. It seemed to me that I was the only normal and sober person on the deck who decided to jump overboard The next day came. Having made a decision and clearly planned everything, Slava could not think about anything. He had neither the future nor the past, but only the present. Or rather, only a fragment of the present that is inexorably reduced. And in this fragment of the present was the readiness to devote to the mystery of life and death. Unknownness. A jump. Walking along the deck to the jump, Slava thought that everything around knew where he was going and could hear the human ear wishing him good luck. Slava seemed to be making a transition to another dimension. He did not feel fear. A jump. He is on board. He is a completely different person. Some invisible force pulled Slava away from the scary spinning tape. He is alive. Slava feels a great relief. The ocean is storming. He needs to hold his breath in a rhythm. On the ridge of a huge wave Slava sees a fast-moving liner. He is relieved to breathe. No one noticed the man on board. But Slava does not see the island's lights. For some time he is swimming, focusing on the rarely appearing lights of the liner, which he sees only at the top of another ridge of a 9-meter wave. He holds his breath well, without swallowing a drop of water. It is difficult to catch the fire of the liner to navigate, but the liner will soon disappear from sight. What to do? You can't navigate the wind. The only way out, the only orientation, is the clouds, or rather thunderstorms with lightning. The liner went beyond the horizon. Slava is alone, completely alone. He does not see the coast lights. It is raining. Where can he wait? He thinks, alone in the ocean. Slava does not know where to swim and concentrates only on breathing. That love at some other level, in that dream before leaving, which he felt with a special force, appeared in the ocean. They loved each other, the ocean and Slava Kurilov. Slava writes, The ocean breathed like a living, native, kind creature. Its uniform, warm breath was richly saturated with fragrant smells. Sometimes, on the slope of the black hills, some lights fell down in the rain and immediately rushed up into the sky. The water touched the skin imperceptibly, as if it were a mirror. If it were not for the consciousness that I am a human and I have to swim somewhere, I would probably be almost happy. He swam on the border of two worlds, the world of the day, where the wind reigned, and the world of the night, when the wind subsided and the ocean showed Slava its real, independent life. Slava did not seem to swim, but swam over the 2,000-meter Philippine fall, over the abyss. He saw what was happening there, in the depth of a hundred meters. There were far-off and close stars, shining arrows flying like torpedoes, leaving a smoky trail. He saw flashes and fireworks, the fire of cities, the eruption of volcanoes. He soared as if in weightlessness over the countless fires of the night city. At times, he heard the sounds of birds, the pleasant music of tender female choirs. Slava constantly felt someone's presence nearby. Looking at the rustles and sighs behind his back, he heard voices repeating his name, sometimes louder, sometimes quieter. At times he heard unearthly sounds. And the sky loved Slava. During the day, the stars hung over him and hid him in their shadows. Slava could see a grandiose heavenly vision, which lacked the sound of pipes and angels, but they certainly were, Slava just didn't hear them. The ocean made Slava a beautiful garment of phosphorylating plankton. He shone all over. It was even difficult for him to see what was happening a few meters away from his own glow. When Slava plunged into a semi-conscious state, he gained the ability to see a few kilometers ahead. At some point, most likely in the middle of the third night in the ocean, Slava completely lost his sense of time. It seemed to him that he was floating forever. In a semi-conscious state, he began to see ancient ships, caravans of Columbus. The people on the boats were talking to him. He clearly saw their faces. Then the visions were over, and Slava experienced something that cannot be called a dream, a hallucination, or a vision. He found himself in a spacious house. People lived there in long, bright clothes. No one was surprised by his appearance. Everyone treated him warmly and warmly. But he was absent. People talked without words. The understanding was absolute. There was no past, no future at the time. Slava lived there for several years, apparently. He was happy. Then he writes, One day we gathered in a spacious hall at a large table. Something extraordinary was happening around, and I felt that I saw eyes looking at me. There was love and mutual approval in them. It was like a farewell ceremony. And then, before I could understand anything, the walls of the room began to crack and split into pieces. Some mighty force pulled me out of place and threw me into the night ocean with boiling, glowing water. The first moments were absolutely silent. The hearing had not yet turned on, but at the next moment I heard the roar of the ocean. I was very shaken, and I began to fall into the abyss. I clearly remember my first thought. I am alive. I am on the reef. The wave receded, and I found myself in the foamy, boiling water. I moved aside. That night Slava will get to the land. The giant waves will carefully take him ashore. The feeling of love will flood his soul. Slava writes, My I suddenly expanded and began to include a huge space. I could look at the ocean from above, I could look at the island. I was among the stars, I swam in the clouds in the night sky. I was every tree, every flower. I was blown by the wind over the tops of the palm trees. I was a reflection of the stars in the mirror of the lagoon. I was inspired by the silence. And when after a while it disappeared imperceptibly, the feeling of infinite gratitude that leaves love forever illuminated the soul. Then Slava will fall asleep. For a while. He will be bitten by ants and mosquitos. Wandering around the island, he will feel like a real Adam. A new and beautiful world will open for him. He is a completely different person. The previous life completely separated from him without a single negative emotion. There is no burden of the past. There is a real book on the shelf that can be easily taken, scrolled through and put in place. All glowing, in ocean clothes, he will dance sirtaki with joy and scare the natives to death, who will unexpectedly see him and then will voluntarily bring him to their bungalow. Then he will be arrested and will be held in the Philippine prison for a whole month and a half. But Slava will perceive it as an adventure, with pleasure. For him there was no better country than the Philippines and women are more charming than Filipinos. Then he will be deported to Canada to his cousin. He will work in private Canadian and American oceanographic companies. In one of his trips he will meet Israeli writers Alexander and Nina Voronel, who will be inspired by the idea of screenwriting, and the BBC channel. For some reason, they will decide to make a film in Israel, where Slava will go for three months. He will fall in love with Israel. He will come to Israel forever in the spring of 1986, married to Elena Gendel. Beautiful Elena, we are friends, she is my close, dear person. Slava died on January 29, 1998. He was 62 years old. Once he told Elena by faith that above Lake Kinneret, on the water that Jesus passed 2000 years ago, there is the eye of God, that this eye stands like a pillar from water to heaven. The place where the divers worked is the shore of Tabheel. This is the holy place when Jesus created miracles of multiplication of bread and fish and preached his mountain sermon. Elena writes, why his life path, which was so winding, through Russia, the Aegean, Canada, Israel, ended up in the Gennesaret Sea? It is not for me to judge. But if you decide to go through the horrors and pains of death, you should not be surprised by the precise and beautiful outline of the fate, outline of the path. There is an oriental proverb, which arrow flies forever? The arrow that hit the target. Slava Kurilov was and will remain a modest, unassuming, noble quality, carefully preserved by the inner freedom.