Mount of Transfiguration

Cyprus is not so vivid and noisy island in a winter time like in summer. There is something exciting, mysterious there at this time of the year. The sea, a wave after wave, splashes out all its deep power, changing the outlines of the seashore. And the sky is full with its dramatic shapes and shades as it descended from the canvases of Rembrandt. The sunbeams, making their way from under "the painted" clouds, create the image of the picture "Christ during the storm".

On the Christmas Eve there is no fuss. The holiday smoothly moves from the streets to the homes and hearts of people who are waiting for a miracle.
"What does this trip to the mountains mean to you?" I asked my husband.
"I'm going to the place of my strength. But what is for you?"
"It's a road to God for me."

Steep turns upward, with each serpentine loop, the turn behind the turn, resemble a spiral of human ascension along the path of evolution. You can try to look beyond the outside world, rising higher and higher, by an inner gaze, this unique ability of your soul.
A man is always attracted by mountains. This childish feeling that you are getting closer to God is really there. The mountains open the long distances, show the horizons, first of all, of the human consciousness. And their peak is the peak of individuality in each of us.

We were greeted majestically with pines on either side of the road. Their image played by new colors this time. I remembered that exactly these trees are the symbol of immortality. Was the Christmas air filled with this meaning? Or maybe the road itself and the symbol of mountain in human consciousness gave this enchanting sensation of the breath of eternity?

I have looked around and remembered my yesterday's dream. In it I have planted flowers to the small ceramic pots in the holes on the seashore. The morning thoughts after this night dream did not give me rest. Why not plant flowers directly in the ground? What were these pots for? Maybe this journey will help to find the answer?

Drops of the rain when we were closer to the peak gradually turned into elegant snowflakes. A festive mood has reigned here. Snowball game. Christmas sweets in the hands of the local residents and their faces, filled with the light and a grace of God.
- Merry Christmas!!!  - heard around.
- Happy Birthday to Christ!  - an echo is carrying ...

"With the birth of Christ," I whispered.
I felt a warmth in the heart's area on the last syllable of this word, the warmth which began to pour all over my body. I repeated this phrase again. The tears sprang from my eyes.
As if the meaning of this holiday has reached me. The birth of Christ in every man! The feeling of quiet rejoicing and the endless happiness from the birth of something true in you. It seemed that the holiday from the street have stepped into the open doors of my soul's house and filled it with a bright joy.

We spent the night in the mountains, in a small family hotel, on the eve of Christmas. I could not sleep all night from the feelings that were overwhelming me. My body, unable to contain these experiences, was like a sieve from which the light filtered. I barely managed to stop the mental rumbling of questions falling on me. How to contain this new state in yourself? How to save this baby and let him grow up to the mature consciousness of Christ? I did not hurry to get an answer. I just stayed in it and watched snowflakes fall over the window like Christmas stars from the sky.

The next morning we continued our journey. My heart was quiet and peaceful. Something changed inside me that night. I felt a union with all people and the space in which I was.
I have thought about Christ, his Path, sacrifice, mercy and compassion. In these reflections, it seemed to me that I was one with those people, regardless of time and space, language and nationality, state and religion, which once, just like me, first touched Christ in themselves.

We got out of the car to wander through the forest. The roofs of the houses, which were made of red bricks, seemed to compete with a bright red shade of the leafy trees. The forest was silent. And we were one with him even in this silence.
"Come in for a tea," a woman's voice called out.
"No, thank you," I answered and plunged into my state again.
"Maybe for a coffee?"
I exchanged glances with my husband and we headed to the house.

We were met by a small, cheerful woman.
"Merry Christmas!," we greeted her.
"Merry Christmas!" she answered us, smiling.
The spicy scent of the Christmas baking has came from the house. The presence of the guests was felt.
"Maria," the hostess introduced herself to us. "Come into the house."

We were sit around a table and talked about Russia, about Christmas. The hostess said with regret that the Christmas tradition to invite strangers (travelers, pilgrims) to the house was lost. People became closed. They began to refer to their busyness.
Surprisingly all borders were erased behind this tea conversation. The hosts and guests spoke freely in Greek mixed with English. We kept the conversation and our understanding of each other was outside the language knowledge.

Suddenly the owner of the house smoothly moved us to the era of Ivan III, the great-grandfather of Ivan the Terrible. We talked about Byzantium, about Sofia Paleologue, about her contribution to the culture of Russia. We talked about her faith and her power of the spirit, about her sacrifice and service. We have touched with the morality and spiritual knowledge of people of that era. I felt that during this conversation I became one with those souls who, just like me, were thinking about Christ ...

I remembered this trip for a long time. Even now before my eyes there is the image of the baby, the grandson of Maria, who has just started walking. We were one with him, with this one-year-old Greek boy. This is the very unity that is felt from within, which is difficult to convey in words. We made our first steps, each of us in his own direction. We have expanded the borders of our space. We went beyond the usual life frameworks. We poured into life intensively, removing its limitations and fears. We recognised ourselves in a new capacity and we were swift in our desire to say goodbye to former forms.

The infant who was born in me is Christ, one of the "sons of God." Is he the perfect person or is it the state of consciousness? Am I ready to take responsibility and grow him in yourself? Am I ready to walk humbly along the whole "way of the cross", meeting with distrust, contempt, betrayal, misunderstanding, doubts of my own and those who will meet me on the Path? Will I be able to endure isolation and loneliness by finding the strength to continue the Way of Service that has begun? Will I be ready for the jubilation of detractors and slanderers? Would I be willing to continue to show my inner light patiently even during the spiritual nights, thinking of those who are in darkness? Would I be willing to give my life for the salvation of the human soul, so that this soul could find God within herself? Can I, in my desire to live nobly and purely, fully display unselfish service to people? Will I be ready to equate myself with suffering, pain and joy, with the sin and shame of all people, to fit them into my enlarged heart, without separating myself from anyone? Will I be ready to give without asking anything in return? Will I be ready for an everyday, silent and impersonal feat for the spiritual awakening of mankind?

No one returns the same from the journey. That's for sure! This trip to the mountains became my Christmas transformation, my personal holiday.
At home I fell into the hands of a book where I found an answer to my night dream about a flower in a pot and the endless sea of life: While a person "sits in a limited circle of his own individuality like a potted plant, he remains attached to its framework. But as soon as he allows the power and pressure of his divine radiance to descend from the secret abode of his heart, he becomes "the container of immortal life in all its abundance and boundless extent"...




*Translated by Mila Nelson,Scotland.