Rampuri biography

Although during my life I reached the most distant corners of the world, my birth occurred somewhere in its middle: I was born at noon, in the middle of the month, year and centuries, in the middle of the American continent, in the city of Chicago, where my father worked as a surgeon at that time. However, the future of my family lay in Sunny California, where my father wanted to realize the American dream, so in the year we moved to Beverly Hills.

Part of the father’s dream became a reality when, asking for money on his father -in -law and receiving the second part of the required amount in the bank, he bought a brand new sparkling “Studabeker”. I experienced my first spiritual experience at the age of four. Then the TVs were new and more like wooden refrigerators with small dim screens in front than modern devices.

Inspired by the film about the adventures of Superman, I put a red handkerchief around my neck, climbed on TV with a serious look and made a fearless jump into space, as my beloved hero always did. You probably already guessed what the outcome of such an experiment was. However, hitting the floor very much, I survived something that forever changed my life: stars appeared in my head!

Now I understood what happens to those who do not obey? !! I realized that you should not tell her about the bells that sounded inside. There are some things that are better to keep with you. Mom could not understand that in my head I saw the same stars that usually appear in the sky on a cloudless night, and I was terribly interested in how they got there. But in childhood there was something else that interested me more than the described event: a hidden treasure.

The whole back yard along and across, for some reason I did not find a single one. I was still allowed to dig in the mud, but not to spoil the things of others - so, so when I made a huge hole in the roof of the garage with the help of my father’s paternal club for golf, a thick leather belt loomed on the horizon. I did not believe him. There should be something else, I thought.

It is no coincidence that I represented my grandfather, who left Russia at the age of thirteen, glorified by the pirate with the one -legged John Silver. After all, in the end, he crossed the Atlantic Ocean five times: first, to explore the world and discover America, then to bring his family to the “promised land”, again to inspire the beloved, my future grandmother, to move from Europe to Mexico, and then make the last journey from Mexico, built in the corps of Christie, the state of Texas.

I could sit for hours and listen to grandfather stories about his adventures in other countries, about people, customs and languages, about how to survive without a penny in your pocket, having nothing but ingenuity. Grandfather told me about the desperate situations in which he got, and how he got out of them. He shared his acquired experience with me. Once my grandfather gave me a real treasure: a silver dollar.

The treasures should be hidden, and then find them again, I thought and buried a silver coin in the backyard, drawing a detailed map. But I never found treasures again. In the place where, as it seemed to me, I buried the coin, there was nothing. Maybe I did not draw a card? The search did not lead to anything, and I swore that when I grow up, I would definitely find a real treasure.

The harsh reality of the school thoroughly shocked the fragile boundaries of my world, in which I turned into a pirate or into cowboy.

I had to learn to be different. In essence, then two of me existed at the same time: one for adults, clothed with power, and the other for peers. The dreams of secret knowledge, magic and hidden treasures had to be hidden as from adults due to the threat of punishment, so from peers due to fear of ridicule. I gradually got involved and began to lead the life of an exemplary schoolboy, athlete and citizen of America.

Mom wanted me to become president, but suspected that in this case the country not to pass the dictatorship, and therefore stopped its choice at the profession of a lawyer. Father wanted me to become a doctor, but his hopes were dispelled like smoke, when one day I expressed a desire to see how he conducts a simple surgical operation, and fainted at the first form of blood.

The sixties went. America has already experienced the murders of J. Kennedy and Martin Luther King, racial pogroms and a Vietnamese war, and I found that I had grown up, but I never found answers to many of my questions and did not know where to look for them. I turned into a renegade. I was stuffy to live in a comfortable world of bourgeois. Instead of thanking God for giving me prosperity, I all the time doubted the need for such prosperity.

I could no longer put up with the reality that I met every day. To the touch it was thin like paper, and something else was visible through it. My mind became susceptible and allowed to notice chaos through the gaps of life, chaos, hidden behind order and external beauty.At the same time, I found that I differ both from my own ideas about myself and from other people's ideas.

The real I was somewhere far, buried under a heap of masks, and needed to find the way back. I felt so small in a huge world. But Beverly Hills, with his eternal promise of wealth, glory and brilliance, was too small even for me. I wanted something more, something that would not fit on the TV screen or even on the meter screen of the automobile cinema in the open air, something so colossal that it would not fit even in the twentieth century.

I wanted to find the truth. Even then, I understood that the chaos should be faced with a face and that the truth needs to be heard. I knew that this would need a long journey, a journey from that to another, from worldly to the Holy