One summer late evening, sitting in my country house, I watched the movie “The Bourne Identity” with Matt Damon as Jason Bourne. The story really touched me. A man was brought aboard to a small ship with anglers on it. The man was severely injured and had been in water for a long period of time. He was riddled with bullets and was barely alive. A doctor, which was at the ship, extracted not only bullets from the man’s body, but a tiny object. As it appeared, the object was some sort of a laser pointer. When switched on and pointed on a wall, it represented strange data: a name of a bank in Germany, a number of a bank account at the bank and something like that. When the patient became conscious, he didn’t remember anything from his past…

Quite soon he realized that he had been an assassin. Although his memory was blank, his skills remained with him. Strange people tried to kill him, and the man wanted to know whom he had been before…

The number one reason I like this movie is that it shows us how a man can totally change in a moment, how he is able to struggle for his new life no matter what. This is an action type of movies. It filled with lots of emotional moments, when Jason Bourne has sudden flashes of memories. And they frighten him.

A few years ago, I learned about the trilogy of Robert Ludlum, which included the books “The Bourne Identity”, “The Bourne Supremacy” and “The Bourne Ultimatum”. By that time I had been watched the rest two movies, which had had the same titles as the books. The idea of buying and reading the trilogy came to my mind immediately. However, I was a little bit afraid… I had watched the movies, I knew the plot. It might not be interesting at all.

Finally, out of a sense of curiosity I started to read the first novel. I was shocked! The book and the movie have nothing in common except the basic idea of a man, which had skills of assassin and lost his memory. The book has more complicated, more twisted and more profound story than its movie counterpart. I totally understand this. Assume producers want to create a movie, which is so close to the content of the book. In this case they have to create a mini-series of “The Bourne Identity” and they also have to put on the screen all these characters of the book, all these difficult to understand at first sight sub-plots. An ordinary viewer like me, who is not fluent with the banking, military, and surveillance services will find himself pretty annoyed. Not necessarily, but it may happen that instead of a spectacular action movie producers may end up with something less attractive and not suitable for cinemas.

I’ve read many comments about the book trilogy and about the movie trilogy. It seems to me (roughly estimated) that 45% of the people like the books’ version of the whole story and hate the movies’ version of the story, 45% think exactly in the opposite direction. Only 10% of people like both versions, saying that for them books have one plot, movies the other, and the very best way to enjoy “The Bourne Trilogy” is to never mix up books’ storyline and the movies’ storyline. Just think about them as two separate stories and you’ll feel OK. Producers could create something more related to the Ludlum’s version. However, think about it. How many awesome scenes would we have lost? If we already have a book, why copy it completely and put it on the screen? Each of us, who have read this book, sees Jason Bourne in a unique way.

One thing for sure, this book is very emotional! It triggers a range variety of different feelings. It astonishes me over and over again. Nothing is static in this book, nothing is clearly certain. Some pages make your heart pound like 10 km running, some pages make you almost cry while others will astound you and make you smile!

Once I developed a web site. The deadline was approaching. I worked day and night. My eyes suffered, my hands trembled, but I couldn’t allow myself to have a break. An unexpected error emerged, while the scripts were being tested. In some cases the main top menu disappeared. Why was it happening? What was the pattern of the flaw?

The problem had to be eliminated as soon as possible. A quick scan of the source code revealed nothing suspicious. The algorithm seemed to be simple. I knew it was a bad idea to continue working, but the mistake in the program bugged me so much. Could it be something serious? Perhaps, the logic was faulty. Choosing another strategy would steal time and lead to an unpleasant conversation with my supervisor, which I didn’t want to happen at all costs.

I figured out the error occurred approximately ten percent of the time. I ran out of any ideas how to fix the problem. I ascribed the error to magic. Maybe, it was a flaw in a computer language. I turned off the laptop in total frustration.

A half of an hour later, when my mind settled down, I decided to have a look at the source code once again. Within a couple of minutes my eyes spotted a line of the code with a wrong conditional clause. Several moments passed before I could cause the error at will. If I had stopped working when I got tired, I wouldn’t have made the mistake.

I learned a valuable lesson that day. Sometimes it’s better to have a break, than continue doing a difficult task, which requires full attention. If you miss important details, the consequences may be disastrous. Imagine a person who drives a truck full of flammable liquid half asleep at night. This driver poses a threat to other people. His inaccuracy has a power to destroy infrastructure and carry away human lives.

Agitated mind may play tricks on you.

I’ve been sitting in front of a monitor for a long time. Fortunately or unfortunately, computer became a part of my professional and personal life. No doubt, the world is a better place with a help of the Internet. However, my body has been designed in an old-fashioned way. It wants to walk, to jump, and to play. It wants to move! It has happened that most of the time I’m glued to the seat of my armchair at work and I’m forced to continue that habit at home, too. As a result, one day I found myself far from a tip-top condition. I was not overweight, I was underweight. I resembled a skeleton, which wasn’t great at all. Finally, looking at myself in the mirror, I swore to God to join the ranks of the fittest men in the world.

When I emerged myself into exercising, I thought I would die in an instant. I simply couldn’t last long. Even simplest exercises were like a torture. I stuck and didn’t know what to do. I knew I should continue, yet at the same time I was frightened to death. To find an excuse was easy. “So much to do, so much to see” as a verse in one song goes.

Time went by and I became more and more courageous. I started to read special literature on the subject. Very interesting information has been discovered by me.

It all starts with simple stuff. Go from the subway station to your home by foot, not by bus. Use stairs instead the elevator. Eat fruit instead ice cream. Call your friend and talk to him while walking around the block in the evening in replace of typing to each other via social networks. Everything matters! Dumbbells and strenuous exercises are just a tip of the iceberg. You may be astounded or even offended when you learn the importance of sleeping enough and how sleep deprivation can kill all your chances of success.

Psychology also is one essential ingredient. Without a strong “WHY?” there won’t be tangible results.

So, what is my point here? Now I truly believe that it doesn’t matter where you are. What matters most is where you are going. The moment you decide to quit being less than you are able to be eventually will transform your life and body. Some folks say that you have to go to a gym and train yourself to the ultimate exertion. I truly believe they are wrong. That’s why people remain the same. They create artificial boundaries on their way to success. They play “double or nothing” game, i.e. become a fitness fanatic or stay the same. My idea is quite different. It’s good if you have an opportunity to join a gym class with all those modern facilities and a nice handsome couch on your side. Suppose you’ve missed the chance for any reason: you have not enough money or you have not enough time to visit a fitness center (its location is very remote from you). You still can perform some push-ups even at your workplace. That’s the secret. Start with something small and gradually build it and seek opportunities. So weak for five push-ups? Do four of them. Cannot do four, do three, or even one. Do you eat two gallons of ice cream every single day? Reduce that amount to one and a half gallons. Do you spend too much time in a social network? Forget about it for a day. Forget it for an hour, for 20 minutes.

There will be various setbacks on your way. Disappointments, hot work days, personal problems. The world will tear you apart. There will be times when you can lose the interest to life at all. Be strong and continue persisting… No matter what!

P.S. On this photo is an Australian swimmer James Magnussen.

When I was a schoolboy, I liked to go to a bookstore and buy memoirs of the former pilots of the World War II. For me it wasn’t so critical who was that pilot: an ally or an enemy. I wanted to know how it felt when you were about to leave the surface of the Earth and go to the fight without knowing whether you would perish or would return safely. Those pilots had been young. Certainly, they might long to glorify themselves. However, how had they managed their fear? How had they coped with anxiety? Hadn’t they wanted to stop fighting one day? Had they longed to start a family? Had they hated the war?

I read many of those books. Unfortunately, I didn’t satisfy my curiosity. I seemed to me, that something really crucial and important was missing at the pages. Perhaps, the pilots hadn’t expressed their true emotions completely. It distorted the whole picture. The same was in the memoirs of the former mariners of warships and submarines.

Quite recently, I’ve accidentally found a collection of short stories written by Roald Dahi. I started to read them. Some of them were extremely funny, like “Vengeance Is Mine Inc.”, some of them were weird ones, like “Yesterday Was Beautiful”. When I finished the last one, I felt like it was not a story at all. It was as if you found on the ground a few pages that had been torn out from an unknown book. You start to read them. You understand every printed word, but you cannot gather the words into a meaningful story. And you will not, because it ends as suddenly as it starts. It triggers a blurry sense. I believe there is a special genre.

Some of those stories were pretty plain and boring for me. “An African Story” is an example.

When I began to read a story, which was entitles as “Death of an Old Man” I couldn’t help myself reading it up in one breath. The story tells us about a young pilot who wants to live. He didn’t care about his life up to one moment. Then he realized how much he could lose if he was shot. Then he met an enemy fighter in the air and after a quick ferocious battle was forced to jump with a parachute on the hostile territory. As soon as he left his cockpit, his opponent did the same, as he had been shot, too!

That short and beautiful story says more words than many novels combined. I’ve found the answers to my questions. It seems I’m a former pilot!

There is a bunch of stories related to the World War II and to the young pilots. “They Shall Not Grow Old”, “A Piece of Cake” are my favorite. I believe the stories were titles so strange on purpose. Before you start reading, it’s better for you not to know anything about it beforehand. It provides more enjoyment and better understanding.

…I squatted down. Beside me the water of a brook gurgled. Multiple different sounds merged into a single, a sonorous one, so the area around was filled with a beautiful spring melody. Mild, barely perceptible blows of a wind caressed my face. The serenity of the air intensified the brightness of the scenery.

All of a sudden, the tranquility of the place was disturbed by some sharp noises of somebody who beat his way through a thick layer of pale brown crispy leaves, which the trees had shed a long time ago. Instinctively, I froze. The steps came to a halt as if that “somebody” was aware of me being there and didn’t want to reveal himself, or herself, for that matter. To ease the awkwardness of the moment I turned my head back to the surface of the brook, trying to imitate a complete state of unconcern and indifference. The steps continued. Soon my eyes noticed a large bird with light brown plumage.

It walked like a royal person, lurching with every step it made. A narrow lane of transparent water separated us from each other. The bird came very close to me. I beckoned it with the movements of my hand, thinking that it would be spooked. On the contrary, it stopped, came even more closer, lifted up its head and cast the gaze of its round eyes right up to mine ones. I averted my eyes first… The creature wasn’t afraid of me. It became strolling back and forth, cackling quietly along the way.

…I looked up at my reflection in the water, and as I was looking, I recalled the time when I had handcrafted paper ships at springtime being a boy. Some of them were sturdy and well structured, some of them were not. Some of them floated graciously and swiftly, whereas some of them sank as soon as they touched the water. It seemed that each of those ships had soul and strived for its life. I wished that one day they would enter a fabulous harbor. I believed they would reach a parallel world where only hot summer days were only an option. I witnessed many times how my paper sailing vessels were hooked by a twig and then squeezed down by the fast stream of the brook. They became stuck, then unfolded and then the water turned them into a shapeless white mass. Quite a few of them nevertheless just became stuck. It was very fascinating scene. Half in water, half in the air, with its frame covered slightly under water by brownish yellow sand, a ship was concealed from others by a natural build-up of stones, twigs, branches and mud. Those places for me were sacred, I could gaze at them for an extended period of time, never founding myself bored. Maybe it was because I truly believed that no matter how a ship had been damaged it wasn’t giving up. It was just waiting, regaining its strength for the following adventures on the way. And when I saw that sparkle of the ripples in the water, I felt over the moon… “The best is yet to come,” I told myself then…

… Suddenly I focused my eyes, went back to reality; and when I gazed on the water I realized that the bird had been looking at my eyes since my mind was absent. The unbelievable boldness of the bird, its reassuring glance and its friendliness made me think that it wasn’t a coincidence, that our encounter wasn’t accidental. Maybe, it knew something and tried so convey a divine message to me…

…But maybe… Maybe I am lost and not yet found…