Dear Katya: A Letter to Myself

Dear Katya, I say to myself, because this is the first time I have written anything in 2009 and I am having a bit of trouble getting started. I think there is part of me that has given up the idea of being a writer, which is probably just a dramatic way of my dealing with uncertainty, and also my way of trying to be successful at everything. Perhaps if I knock something off the list, I'll have a better chance of succeeding at something, but then, I do not feel complete. My pursuit of beauty in language feeds my soul, even if "The Iowa Review" doesn't think I should make it to the next tier of readers. And then there is that part of me that thinks perhaps I am not very intelligent and that all that really matters is for me to be beautiful physically and have lots of shoes for people to oo and ah at. And to criticize myself and to say that I am simply a shallow, Barneys web page stalker (one of these days Louboutins will go down to $156) makes life a lot less complicated. I don't have to read, I don't have to write, I don't have to pray or "follow my bliss" in any way, and I should be happy because, as dear Toad says of the beloved "Frog and Toad" Series - Today, I'm going to just take life easy. But I'm not happy. I know very well that I am burying my talent in the sand, that I say all I need is to read "Frog and Toad" over and over again until my throat is dry, to administer sippy cups and wash dish after dish after dish, but if I am not taking care of what drives me, then I am imparting very little joy to my children, and I am running away from God.

I have been thinking a lot about Jonah lately, and how he thought he could run away from God, but of course, we can't run away from God because He is everywhere, filling all things. We can reject God, I suppose, but then we reject ourselves, for God is within us. How can I pretend I have no soul when Christ's very Body and Blood runs through me?

Dear Katya: The only beauty that really matters is that which is found within you. What is it you are pretending to be and why are you doing everything to not write, not pray, not read, not be happy? Is it that you are punishing yourself again for what it is you think God thinks of you, demands of you? But He demands nothing. He simply asks for you to accept His love. Isn't it time you remembered who you are, and what it is in you that is loved? You are absolutely unique - there was no one before who is absolutely like you nor will there ever be any one else, for God has known your name from before all creation.

So, I think you should come back, not just to blogging, but come back to yourself and say in full confidence - I am a child of God and He does love me and want my salvation.

One day the Louboutins will come down to $156, but they will be hideous, uncomfortable, a wretched color, a 130mm heel that will make you fall down the stairs and, what's more, it won't even matter.

Now, isn't that conclusion perfectly lovely? I think so.

With much love,

Katya

The Tale of the Teal Peep-Toe Part Deux

I'm sure my dear friend in Portland will be happy to know that I made the decision to return the stunning-to-look-at shoes. Because they were so stunning to look at I put them on my desk so that I could have some company while I worked on the computer.

My husband, who usually doesn't notice my shoes all that much, unless they are really outlandish, like my Holstein print kitten heels that I actually wore to church on Christmas for Nightingale, looked at these shoes and exclaimed.

-"What on earth are those?"

-"Shoes . . . (I thought about explaining that they were made in Italy and came with their own dust bag, but decided against it, as he immediately commented on the color).

-"They're ocean blue. They look like doll shoes. What would you wear those with and, the more important question is, why would you wear them?"

-"Black. They go with black." I tried them on. He put his hand over his eyes and said.

-"Honey - those are not you. And they look too small. Your toes are all squished. Maybe for Madonna, but not you. Stick with your pointy black elf shoes." (Is it good or bad that my husband thinks I dress like an elf?)

Whose opinion could matter more - even Olivia's elongated gasp of envy and the way she says "Oh, those are super cute" and not in that Southern California way that it is so atrocious, but in a distinct Olivia, I work for Barneys New York as a personal stylist way could convince me otherwise.

Fate has its hand in everything. And this was as clear as it could be. My stunning ocean-blues had to go back to New York (actually New Jersey) from whence they came.

I remarked to Maria last night on the phone that I do not participate in pop culture. I think all this agonizing over a pair of "in the moment" shoes shows that I indeed do participate in pop culture. (But I still have no intention of reading Harry Potter)

So, I'll have to think of what to wear to Anna's party now that these are no longer an option. Maybe my signature elf shoes. It is Christmas, after all.

I've learned my lesson . . . perhaps

So, I bought a pair of blue satin, open-toed party shoes with a 100mm heel because I really needed them and have so many cocktail dresses with which to pair them and because I go to so many cocktail parties I thought it was best to add them to my otherwise drab and uniform shoe collection (collection being the name because I don't actually wear any of the shoes I buy, they just look elegant on my shelf). They were also on sale - reduced from $745 down to $109 - now that's a steal, even if I don't need them and never wear them. And I'm sure they're reduced so extremely because everyone was so excited to buy them and not return them that they decided to put them on sale for the common man who, perchance, had a sudden black tie event to attend . . .

Well, as I was trying them on, trying to convince myself that they really went with a few of my outfits that I'm going to wear to this imaginary cocktail party, even though they really went with none, I scraped my knee, which was already dry, with that beautiful 100mm heel, and blood came gushing down my leg (it was not elegant at all). I managed to press a towel to my knee so as not to get blood on the shoes, which by then I had contemplated returning.

Sasha came running in (now very ecstatic about blood wounds and such) wanting to see just how bad Mommy's wound was.

-You may borrow a band aid of mine if you would like. (He was quite concerned about the blood) Pavel, on the other hand, took no notice, picked up my shoe and walked away squealing with delight.

So I am limping, a towel pressed to my leg, after Pavel, blood dripping on the floor, and Sasha is running after me continuing to ask if I need a band aid.

-My blue satin open toe party shoe made in Italy with its own dust bag! Nooooooo!

At one point I had to ask myself if I was absolutely out of my mind, and, unfortunately, had to admit, at that moment, I was.

I rescued the shoe, put them both back in their lovely dust bag and into the box so that I could return them. What I really did was spend over $100 on a pair of uncomfortable shoes that I will never wear.

But then the lovely Anna called to invite me to my first ever cocktail party since I have been living in the farmland desert! And Olivia and Maria were going to be there as well, and I should dress up, because when do we ever have an opportunity to dress up, so I took the shoes out of the box and thought about which dress they might go with, because what an event - a cocktail party, Italian shoes, my dearest friends all in one place, and, most importantly, free canapes!

Onionism - those who scowl at the leek

I have recently been told by my husband that there is an abundance of leeks in our refrigerator. I told him that he was being silly, overly judgmental, and that he obviously has an issue with leeks, which he should take up with the vegetable itself (are they considered vegetables?) instead of scowling every time I mention they will be part of our evening meal. Of course, he is not the only one to practice onionism. I have noticed that each time I check out at a grocery store there appears that same scowl on the checker peering at me over the belt as if I am mad - what are these? Leeks. What do you use leeks for? Cooking. Okay (sigh) give me a second (sigh) while I find the code (sigh).

Why do I suddenly feel like a bad person for buying leeks?

So, quite angrily, I opened the refrigerator door and noticed, to my husband's credit, there was quite an abundance of leeks. About nine just on the bottom shelf alone, and then I opened the vegetable drawer and realized there were another six. I suppose I kept buying leeks, thinking I needed them for a particular dish, and immediately forgot about them the moment I put them away, thus, the fifteen leeks in my refrigerator for the dish, of which I do not yet know the name, I am going to prepare this weekend.

I started to think about leeks and all the dishes that call for them. I can make roasted root vegetables, and use leeks instead of onions. I know risotto also calls for them, and the kabocha squash soup I keep meaning to make. There is the lovely vichysoisse - potato leek soup, and then there is Devonshire leek pie that I learned about from the crazy dutch (very scrumptious - the leek pie, that is), though it might be a little difficult to make a leek pie sans eggs, butter, cream and bacon. There are braised leeks with fennel, and an Alsacian galette which uses leeks for the base, but I also know none of these dishes are all that appealing to my husband or to my children. But, what I do realize is that my family, if not immediately presented with the word leek, actually is not that adverse to them. In fact, only today, I prepared sauteed carrots, leeks and parsnips, and everyone ate them right up. Leeks are also the basis of my corn chowder, which my husband adores, thinking of course, that those translucent things swimming in his bowl are yellow onions and not the infamous leeks.

And my point is that onionism is not just about leeks, but about our set opinions in general, and that often we scowl at that which is different from what we are used to. I know I am a tad bit paranoid, but I do know I have received many looks of curiosity and even disdain when I have gone into our local grocery store. (Our local grocery does not carry leeks.) But I have scowled back as well many times. No thank you. I don't eat that, do that, listen to that. After over five years in this rural countryside, I have not learned to bend more than buy a pair of wellies, albeit Hunter wellies, so I don't know if that really counts.

I have come to the conclusion that I like to be different, not just here where it is so cut and dry city mouse country mouse, but everywhere I go and the manner in which I interact with people. I like to be in my own world, always an air of mystery to my demeanor. But a lot of this comes from fear too - what if I do try with all my might to become part of this culture and I am just as quickly laughed out of it. I imagine those individuals who consider me aloof and unwilling to become part of this place are just as afraid of change as I am, or would they not recognize that our differences are actually just a tool by which we can both learn? But then, what have I learned? Perhaps I am exactly what I appear to be.

If such simple things as leeks and, in my case, flats, can be so fearful, then how can we expect to be open to God? I often think of St. Gregory of Nyssa and the deeper and deeper darkness we must enter to find the light of Christ. To know God is to first understand how incomprehensible God is, and, ironically, we must first enter the unknown to even begin to know anything. We have to admit that perhaps our formed opinions are not necessarily correct and that we will not lose our character by questioning our own personal dogmas about life.

Today I had the unfortunate experience of witnessing a rather animated argument in the Narthex between two groups of people. Things were said that probably should not have been said, and several walked away in tears. And here we are, having just received the Body and Blood of Christ, and where there should be peace, joy, love, forgiveness and communion with one another, there is enmity, strife, jealousy, bitterness and malice. The devil hates above all else the Eucharist, and that we come together and partake as one body in Christ. I am convinced this is why that when we make the effort to pray and come to church to participate in the Sacraments, we are immediately lambasted with a world of temptations. As humans it is very often hard to see beyond our own shadow on the ground, to see beyond our own understanding of the world, and almost impossible to understand those around us and why they do things differently than we do or would even consider doing. Christ came to save the world - not just the Orthodox, not just the Russians or the Greeks. Christ came for those who are like us and for those that are not.

Today I want to begin anew. I want to shed this skin of mine that cannot forgive, that cannot put myself in my neighbor's shoes, and perhaps by my forgiveness, something good can happen. It is time for us to stop speculating about our neighbor, gossiping and being offended. It is time for us to stop considering ourselves always the wronged in a situation, but to remember that we sin and that our sin can penetrate the cosmos. And isn't this the point of the Nativity Fast? To fast from sin as we fast from food, to prepare ourselves to meet Christ who has taken on our human flesh so that we may one day join in His Divinity? Milk can be discarded from our body in a matter of hours, but what about sin, what about what we let fall from our lips? That stain is written on us in a way no animal product can.

So, reaching God is peeling away all the layers, like an onion, to find the heart. And then, there is the story in The Brothers Karamazov of the woman who could have been saved by her gift of an onion, so this post, now rather long, is about more than an onion (or leek).

I just want peace in our community, in our Orthodox Church, for if we are at enmity with each other how can we be the Body of Christ? I can't change any one's mind or heart by anything I can say or do, but I can, from this moment, serve Christ, and repent, really repent - change my heart, and thus my repentance can affect the cosmos even more strongly than my sin.

How can I be lonely?

The Elder (St. Herman) was asked: "How do you live alone in the forest, Father Herman? Don't you become lonely?" He replied: "No! I am not alone there! God is there, as God is everywhere. Holy Angels are there. How can one become lonely with them? With whom is it better and more pleasant to converse, with men or with Angels? With Angels, of course!"

I have been thinking a lot about loneliness of late, particularly because the demon of loneliness has been pursuing me relentlessly, and thus, the demon of self-pity. The winter days, full of icy winds and heaps of snow, certainly make me feel more isolated than usual. The fact that it is not always possible to take the hour-long drive to civilization and that I often can go the entire day without any adult contact makes the feeling all the more acute. Sometimes I think I am doing well, but sometimes I look out the window at the snow covered plains and wish for the sound of a truck and horse-trailer rumbling past just so I know I am not the only person left in the world. It is so quiet and I am bombarded constantly with thoughts - both benign and damaging, and some good. When UPS or FedEx pulls in to deliver a package there is a certain flutter of happiness - novelty has entered my closed world.

I have been asking myself if loneliness is the desire for human companionship or simply for distraction. Is loneliness a label we give to dissatisfaction in general? I always have someone I can call on - whether it is a girlfriend or my husband or a spiritual mentor. And if there is no song of traffic outside my house, there is certainly the song of Sasha, his questions and new discoveries, and, of course, Pavel, who is always gurgling out something in an attempt to participate in the language he hears. Why then am I so often struck with a feeling that I do not even exist, or that I alone exist, and that there is no one else?

Reading the above quote by St. Herman I must question whether my loneliness is the symptom that my heart has given me as a reminder who it is I should seek first. Without Christ there is no peace. Without Christ there is no love. Without Christ we are alone, even if we have thousands of friends and family members around us. So I am alone, not because I live in the farmland desert, not because I am lacking in people who love me, and not because I can't go to a cafe and see strangers across from me reading The New Yorker, because New York also can be the loneliest place on earth. And I know - how many times did I stand in Grand Central Station staring up at the gilded Zodiac images, sounds and images coming from every direction and yet feel so alone? Loneliness is a state of the heart. It is not a state of circumstance.

I find it providential that I remember St. Herman's words on this particular day, which is so quiet and so seemingly empty, and that I can find joy in celebrating his memory on Saturday. The desert is terrifying, even unbearable at times, but the desert is often where we find God.

". . . from this day, from this hour, from this very moment we shall strive to love God above all . . ." - St. Herman of Alaska

The Reason Behind

I just got off the phone with someone I have known for about ten years now, though, because I consider him very much a spiritual father and a mentor to me, it feels as if I have known him all my life. I also have been blessed with a wonderful Confessor, but somehow I am able to tell this one person, who is not a priest, everything that goes on in my soul in a way I often do not in Confession. It is a gift from God. Without that accountability I would often be lost.

I called him on this occasion to report a rather trivial matter - a shoe purchase - a pair of black, patent-leather d'Orsays, because, of course, these are highly practical in the rural terrain in which I live, and, because, no where in my closet do I have another pair of black patent-leather d'Orsays, pravda? Don't forget the pinching pointy-toe shape which makes me look so much taller than I am, yet is, if I keep it up, bound to land me a cripple in my later years.

As I spoke with him about the shoes and the chocolate that I ate for breakfast I quickly became aware of what lay behind my purchase and my chocolate - besides the much sought release of dopamine. It made me feel that I had accomplished something (I purchased a pair of shoes) and that I was being, just a touch, rebellious (it's the Nativity Fast where I try to avoid not only shopping but chocolate). The rush came and went, but in my heart I knew I had fallen. Most people would say I was being too hard on myself. It's just a little chocolate. It's just a little splurging. But each time I use the word "just a little" and "just this once" I know I am, in part, trying to justify myself. The path to Christ is narrow and difficult - "just a little" too many times can put us off the path completely. What do I want more than anything in this world? I want to be in Communion with God and I know that there is purpose and reason behind every word I utter and every act I take. The motivation is not always good. As I said to my mentor - "I participate in seemingly innocuous activities, but I know inside I am often full of malice."

I am glad I ordered shoes from Zappos because it precipitated my calling him. It was a type of confession, because I spoke the truth and revealed my darknesses without justification. In everything we do, there is a motivation. Why do we say this, do this, etc.? I can think of no better time than the Nativity Fast to really examine our lives. To ask ourselves if we are truly following Christ, or are we, in fact, playing at Orthodoxy, while we remain fully engaged in the world?

I hope one day I won't need to buy shoes to brighten my day. I know this will take a lot of time and work and prayer, but in the end I shall find that one thing needful.

Glory be to God for all things!

Faith is an easier word to throw around than to understand

I have always been one not to use the word faith too much, not as a conscious effort, but because for me its meaning is so limitless, so past understanding, that I have feared, when I wanted to use the word, minimizing it. It is a word, though, that I often use in my writing, especially in my private journal entries as an admonishment to myself - Have faith, Katya. Have faith.

Living in the rural countryside I tend to forget what is going on in the rest of the world. I forget poverty, I forget war, and I forget the fierce struggle that many Americans are going through. Only when a relative of mine said, in much distress, that she had taken a huge loss because of the stock market plunge, and that her portfolio had gone done a third, did I begin to understand how much fear pervades our society.

Our country was, at its founding, built on the honorable ideas of freedom - freedom to think the way we chose, freedom to worship as we chose, and freedom to speak as we chose. And, most importantly, God was on our founders' tongues and pens. Now I see very little of God. Many talk of God, but how many truly are faithful? I find, and I am no exception, that what concerns most of us is money and what it represents - security. I have this particular job and this insurance plan, and I have so much in my savings account, therefore I am safe, I am secure. With the state of our economy at present, this security has been shaken.

My husband and I have never been rich, nor do we expect ever to be, but I also knew, if only subconsciously, that we had someone to turn to always, and that never would I have to worry about losing everything. No longer is this the case and I am confronted with a certain fear that I have never had to experience, but I also am thankful for my fear because it made me realize how much faith I do lack. I also realize that much of my identification, which I want to come from God, actually comes from my maiden name, my family and my education. I have made many decisions not to go a certain way, but have chosen a more strenuous one for which I am grateful, but I also knew somewhere, as I was making those decisions, that I was not, in fact, giving up everything. There was an entitled dignity that I have carried along with me that is based much more on where I come from than who I am in Christ.

Who am I without my possessions, without my knowledge, without my bloodline? Who am I stripped to nothingness? I am rather superficial actually, and I am not a woman of extreme faith. But, glory be to God, that today this has been revealed to me, so that I do have the time to repent.

Many Americans are waiting for our President elect to fix things, many anxiously flip through the newspaper to see how many points the DOW fell or rose, but this hope for better times is not necessarily rooted in Christ, and our fear is not for our soul but for our "security."

The bridegroom will come like a thief in the night and will we be ready? Will our souls be in such a state that we can receive God's mercy? Do we really have faith? When we say - Thy will be done - do we understand what we are saying?

"Just have faith!" We say - the bumper sticker cliche that is so easy to repeat. But it isn't just have faith. Faith is a grace given, not something we can obtain by talking about it or thinking about, but something we must ardently strive for at all times. And I think the proof of our faith is when we wake every morning, crossing ourselves, our first thought being to lift up our hearts to God, and not to fear this world. There is no place for fear if our faith is in Christ.

So, thank you God for these uncertain times, thank you for stripping us of all that which is unnecessary, and for taking away our worldly security, for hopefully, in this we will learn to put all our hope in You.