Letter's from my desk: What a kiss taught me

 

Привет, dear readers. I am Bunny (Not the name my parents gave me), a wandering soul from the frozen beauty of the Yakutia area in Sakha Republic but now USA. In Yakutia, the brief, magical summers teach you to hold warmth exceptionally close.

I still remember a soft summer evening years ago. The air carried the scent of pine and wildflowers, and there she was.. the beautiful and older Anya. A pretty Russian girl with laughing eyes and hair that caught the golden light like threads of silk. We’d been talking for hours at her place. She was older, but we bonded over maths. We laughed, joked, and found a happy place lost in deep conversation, our hearts racing with unspoken questions. Then, in a quiet moment, our lips met. Gentle, tentative, electric. My first kiss with a girl. Time slowed, the world narrowed to the warmth of her touch and the flutter in my chest. It was sweet, surprising, and perfectly imperfect.

John Michael Montgomery sings about this exact sort of momentum in "Life’s a Dance." He said... You learn as you go. That was the truth waiting for me that night.

I had spent so much time worrying about doing it properly, as though love came with flight manuals, checklists, and a helpful little diagram marked YOU ARE HERE. It does not. Sweeties, I learned sometimes you lead with courage. Sometimes you follow the quiet pull of your own heart, and sometimes you simply stand there, trembling slightly, while life takes your hand and says, "Come on, then..."

That kiss taught me something beautifully simple: you do not need to know every step before the music begins. You only need enough courage to step onto the floor. The rest reveals itself in motion. That may be true of love, adventure, reinvention, and every new chapter in this strange Siberian heart of mine. Fear will always offer you a perfectly respectable seat along the wall. It will tell you to wait until you are certain, graceful, prepared. Certainty is often just fear wearing spectacles.

So dance anyway my lovely lot... Sink or swim, stumble or soar, give it a whirl. Moo loud... The music plays whether we feel ready or not, and some of the most beautiful steps are the ones we never rehearsed.

Anya is precious to me and she used to say it whenever the room grew too quiet and everyone had begun thinking themselves into a cage: “Кто не рискует, тот не пьёт шампанского.” She would smile all devilish when she said it. Not recklessly; not like someone urging you to throw your life into the fire for the thrill of watching it burn. More like someone who had lived long enough to know that fear can be terribly persuasive when it puts on a sensible coat.

Literally, the phrase means, “He who does not take risks does not drink champagne.” A very Russian proverb, really. Equal parts courage, mischief, and the suspicion that life is too short to spend the whole evening standing beside the bottle. But sweet Anya never meant champagne as luxury. She meant the fizz of being fully alive. The unexpected laugh... The honest confession. The road taken without certainty. The hand reached for. The moment you nearly refused because your mind demanded guarantees that life was never going to give you. That was her champagne.

The small, bright reward that appears only after you loosen your grip on control. We like to imagine that courage belongs to dramatic moments. It usually does not. Most courage is quiet. It is speaking when silence feels safer. Trying again after embarrassment. Letting someone see you clearly. Entering a room where you may not belong yet. Allowing joy before every problem has been solved.

Life does not happen in the waiting room of certainty. It happens now. Messily. Briefly. Without asking whether you feel prepared. And this is where Anya’s proverb becomes more than a toast. It becomes a way of paying attention. The risk is not always in stepping forward. Sometimes the greater risk is remaining frozen so long that the moment passes without you.

So when you find yourself standing at the edge of a choice, rehearsing every possible disaster, pause. Take the breath. Notice what fear is protecting. Then ask the harder question: What beautiful thing might happen if I am brave for five more minutes?

Pour yourself into the moment. Say the thing. Take the step. Open the door. The champagne of life was never meant to sit unopened on a shelf while we waited to become fearless. It was meant to be shared while our hands were still trembling. Preferably with good company. Allegedly.. Or Something… On Minecraft.

What about you? Have you let yourself dance lately? I hope you do soon.

May you find the courage to step forward, the wisdom to pause when needed, and enough sweetness in the moment to remember that life is still offering you champagne. May your hands be warm, your heart remain open, and fear never keep you from the dance. With frost-kissed cheeks and a heart full of warmth,

Your friend, Bunny 🐰😘🐮🙀

9/7/2026