XIX - THE SUN
The old Ilyushin Il-96 taxied down the runway past MIG bunkers at just before eleven on a Sunday morning and came to stop a few hundred meters from the terminal. A bus dropped us beside a fence where we waited for a policeman to unlock it and let us out. I kept telling myself that I should have called her or sent a message, that it wasn’t right to leave her in suspense. There was a large crowd behind the gate of the run the down Soviet era airport and when it was opened I made my way out almost afraid to look for her when she jumped like a cat out of nowhere and grabbed hold of me. “I should beat you for not having called me.” She exclaimed then we kissed and held each other.
“I’m sorry, I wanted to write you but the end of the trip was crazy. Here I am. A little drama keeps things fresh.”
She shook her head as we walked to her car. “Tonight we’re having a big party in the dacha. Imagine if you hadn’t come, it would’ve been terrible. Are you here to stay?” She hadn’t put the car in motion yet and already I knew I had made the right decision and quickly thanked whatever spirit moved me that last night in Madrid.
“As long as you will have me.” I answered and she leaned over and kissed me before pulling out.
“That could be a long time,” she said, “but I should still beat you. I didn’t sleep a wink last night.”
“We’ll just have to hop in bed immediately.” Kamchatka was very different in the summer as nature blossomed in greens, reds, yellows, even blues and the dilapidated buildings stood out even more without the snow. The mostly Japanese cars with the steering on the right were constantly swerving to miss potholes and the strangeness of the place added to the feeling that Kamchatka was the product of some dystopia. I had a shower after crossing nine time zones in an allnight flight and devoured Marina in an ecstatic reunion.
We woke up late in the afternoon. “I was so worried you weren’t coming, I kept checking my email, then, once I knew the plane was in the air, I couldn’t sleep. Don’t do that to me again, please. I know you were busy and without a phone, but I was sure you weren’t coming back or maybe something had happened to you. I didn’t know what to think.” I held her and felt guilty but it was also nice to know someone cared about me that much. My body was all confused but I drank three cups of coffee and was determined to make it through the party at the dacha which I hadn’t seen yet.
She had already bought lots of meat and made the salads so we just stopped off at a store to by the alcohol before driving outside the village and down a very bumpy dirt road into an area of dachas. The small houses where painted in bright colors and all seemed to have big gardens. When I saw her dacha it was love at first site. Her dog Leo jumped all over me as soon as he saw me and Kostya and Yilena were sitting beside a big fire that was prepared for the BBQ. We hugged and kissed before begining our usual routine of eating and drinking. The small house rose up into a triangular roof where there was a loft that was reached by ladder. A Russian wood stove sat beside a wall with a chimney that marked off the kitchen and on the other side of the wall was a pull out couch.
She had already planted potatoes which were just beginning to sprout. There were also carrots, cabbages and in the green house tomatoes, cucumbers and peppers. The dacha was organized in a messy, decadent way that I found endearing. A few old tires served as flower pots that led to a wooden banya beyond which was the well and at the far corner an outhouse. We all settled around the fire drinking beer while I told them about my adventures in Spain and they laughed heartily at the idea of me as a guru. I told it all a bit tongue and cheek but I could see Kostya was fascinated while the more astute Yilena brushed back her short black hair and smiled at some of the more amusing anecdotes.
Marina didn’t say much and I got the feeling she was disturbed about Lola who I had mentioned in passing. As the evening progressed and other friends came by I was finally able to shed my evangelizing persona and feel at home again and by the end of the night we were all very happy and quite drunk. Kostya and Yilena slept above us in the loft and Marina and I on the pullout couch. The next morning Kostya and Yilena left for work while Marina and I stayed at the dacha and over coffee I decided to get Lola out of the way.
“Marina, I know what you must think, but nothing went on between Lola and me. That was over a long time ago and I really didn’t want to spoil what was going on between you and me by starting that up again. I wanted to come back and have things clean and pure, and they are.”
“But weren’t you thinking of staying? Wasn’t that why you didn’t write?”
“In a way, maybe. I told you how things were going. They were touting me as a guru, they put me on the radio and made me feel important. But I never really thought of staying because of Lola. I thought about staying and just continuing that work. You could have come, we could have started a life there maybe but I finally realized that wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted to be here with you. This feels like home which is strange since I have only been here a few months, but it does. I’m very glad to be back and I never betrayed you. You were always there with me even if I was becoming a bit delusional at the end.”
I could see her physically soften and she began to ask about the seminars and I was able to share it all. At one point she could see me getting into the guru mode. “I see how you must have enjoyed it; you light up when you talk about those things.”
“Sure, it was very stimulating and I studied and read a lot and made a lot of progress, but I also realized that the key is inside. It’s about finding that place, that connection but only when I’ve gotten there can I really be of use to anyone.”
“You don’t think you’re there yet? You seem to have a really special glow about you, it’s like you’re sparkling.”
“I made some progress, but I have along way to go.”
We slowly fell into a calm rhythm of life at her dacha and all of the stress that was there in my first trip was gone. We lived at the dacha and Marina drove to work while I spent the days picking weeds, watering the greenhouse, fixing things and reading. The blog had passed its zenith and I was left with little to say. It felt like I had gotten off a rollercoaster after an exhilarating ride but with no desire to get back on again. I started getting emails asking me why I wasn’t writing and I answered that I had written what I felt I had to write and I didn’t want to continue just repeating myself. The blog did need a finish and it would be something much more esoteric than I had written before. I wanted to describe the awakening process and the disengagement from the matrix while giving some clues as to where to find that path but I was in no hurry at all and that summer I simply read and thought.
Lola sent me a few messages telling me how she was continuing the workshops and studying astrology in depth and I was sure that her dramatic flair and exceptional empathy would enable her to further develop the seminar. It felt good to know that the work we did would continue but I was fully absorbed just gardening and reading.
Summer ends soon in Kamchatka and that last week in August the first yellow appeared in the countless birch trees. Marina, Leo and I spent hours walking through the forest picking enormous Porcini mushrooms which I used to make pasta. On one of our trips to the forest in early September we found a big collection of fly agarics that she picked and we dried in the sun.
The late September nights got chilly in the dacha and we lit a fire in the stove every night. The potatoes were all picked and a year’s worth were put into a storage area she had in the basement of her apartment. The first week in October a strong wind lifted all the leaves off the trees and with them went the color and the autumn, a week later the first snow fell and we closed the dacha and moved back to the apartment. We were spending a lot less money by then and I was still using the cash I’d taken to Spain, of which I had a little more than $1,500 left. On a spur I left the house one day and headed to a jewelry shop and luckily the shop attendant spoke a little English. I found a very nice ruby in a simple
setting for close to $1,500. I knew it was crazy to spend that kind of money when I had no income but I also realized that if I waited any longer, it wouldn’t get bought. It was my last moment to splurge before the austerity set in.
On the way home I bought champagne and wine and made pasta with some of the last big porcini’s we had frozen. I sautéed scallops and made a nice layout on the kitchen table which lifted her spirits when she came home after a long day at the hospital, giving her a radiant glow. She could read my mind and in what seemed like a few moments she had already put on a very nice blue wrap around dress with black stockings and some makeup. We drank champagne, listened to Bach and dipped bread in the green sauce from the scallops. As soon as I got my first rush from the champagne I lost all patience and put the black box on the table. She couldn’t have picked a better blue dress to contrast the ruby.
“Well, as I don’t fancy diamond rings, I hope you don’t mind I got you a ruby instead.” She turned her head slightly and smiled, not sure what I meant. “I want to marry you.” No words were needed as it came naturally to both of us. Neither of us were big fans of being married by the government and she called a friend of hers who was a priest in the local Russian Church. He came over one night for dinner and we told him we wanted to be married and he said by law we had to be married first in the government office but when we explained my situation he said he would make some calls and see what he could do. He finally got back to us saying they would make an exception and that he could give us a date after Russian Lent. Part of the process was that I would have to get baptized in the Russian Orthodox Church which was fine with me as I always loved their ceremonies and churches. I would get baptized in the autumn, enjoy our New Year’s holiday and then I promised Marina that I would do a serious Lent: no booze, no cigarettes, no meat.
In a small, beautiful church I was baptized along with ten others, mostly adults. We made it a habit of going to church on Sundays and I became enthralled with the services: everyone standing, fantastic singing, very precise rituals and a mysterious liturgy. By that time my visa had run out and I was illegal but it didn’t seem to bother her and it actually made me feel freer. I was no longer the property of any state but well beyond it on a forgotten peninsula far from civilization.
I started preparing a young girl wanting to study in Canada for the EILTS exam and before I knew it I had four students. I was also doing astrological readings for lots of Marina’s friends and people began calling and asking for astrology and Tarot readings. I never charged money for the readings and only asked that they light three candles in the church afterwards: one for them, one for me and one for Sacred Sophia. I liked to do the readings even more than doing the lectures in Spain, whether it was a natal chart or the cards for a particular question, they connected me to something and the more I did them the more seriously I felt motivated to study. As time went on I began to get a reputation and I would have two or three people come by a week which was a enough to keep the fire burning and push me forward to learn more.
Before I knew it New Year was upon us, which in Russia is the mega holiday. Its vibrations begin weeks earlier while Christmas is an afterthought and goes almost unnoticed. We were going to have the dinner at our apartment and the final days were filled with mad shopping and cooking. Kostya and Yilena were coming of course and so was a friend of Marina’s who had emigrated to Vancouver, Lilia, as well as another friend who was a TV journalist, Sasha, and her husband who was a General in the Air Force. Everyone began arriving around nine and the house filled with salads, sweets, and an immense variety of alcohols.
After the drinking began Lilia described her life in Vancouver and how different it was from Kamchatka. The government had helped her buy an apartment and she got unemployment when work was slow. She was enamored with her new life and Dimtri, the General, seemed ambivalent to her glowing description. Even the usually open Kostya became defensive about life in Russia and how it wasn’t so bad. Most of this conversation was in Russian and while I was beginning to understand things, speaking was still out of the question. I enjoyed keeping silent which had always been a struggle for me especially when the topics swerved political. I realized that most of the speaking I had done was either defensive or an ego trip and the forced silence was a wonderful method to discipline my mind and regain my dignity. When I was asked my thoughts on Obama I simply said he was no different than Bush and left it at that. Watching the tension build as the guests delved deeper into their arguments made me very conscious of the futility of political debates.
Sasha the journalist and I began to speak apart from the others and I told her a bit about my own writing and I asked her about her work. She was a vibrant, smart woman in her late fifties who had a real capacity to see through things and had already read some of my articles as Marina had told her about my blog. She asked me about my nascent anarchism and I explained how liberating it was to finally find a political philosophy that fit my worldview but I could tell she was after something else and she finally requested a Tarot reading. We went into the other room and I read the cards for her. The more I used the cards the stronger I felt the power of the archetypes as they came alive for me as I did the spreads. Sasha’s big blue eyes lit up under her red hair and she shook her head. “How can you know that? I never really thought these things could work, but Marina told me that you seem to have a gift for this and it’s true.” She hadn’t told me the question so I just interpreted the cards. She thanked me and we went back to the table where she whispered something to her husband who nodded.
Thankfully the conversation became lighter and finally Kostya took out his guitar and the General sang wonderfully. It was a magical night and I looked forward to our marriage that brand new year, 2010, and continuing on the path which Misha had sent me on three years before. I hadn’t heard from him in over a year and while I often thought of him I waited patiently knowing that he would come back into my life at some point.
February brought Soviet Soldiers Day or Man’s Day as it is now called and in March we celebrated Woman’s Day. The first day of Russian Lent arrived and I felt ready for the great challenge. The night before I had a good spell of drinking and smoked my last cigarette. The first few days my body almost rejoiced from the lack of punishment but gradually things got more difficult. I took long baths and gave up coffee and tea to help ease the urge for nicotine. I had never been as healthy, at least as an adult, and I began sleeping ten hours a night and after a few weeks I finally felt better. Easter came and I decided to keep to the regime until the wedding which was in May.
We had a beautiful orthodox ceremony with Kostya and Yilena holding the crowns. I later splurged from the money I had left for a nice party at a local restaurant. I sent Lola an email telling her I was getting married and in characteristic Lola fashion she sent us €5,000 as a gift, explaining that the workshops had been a great success and she wanted to share some of that with us. It restocked the cash reserves and paid for a trip to the north of Kamchatka to a small hotel as a honeymoon.
Another summer arrived and work began at the dacha but I hadn’t written an article all year as the spiritual goodbye to the blog dripped out slowly. Then one day alone in the dacha it burst out of me and I wrote for hours and finally had a first draft ready. It was the first article I shared with Marina before publication and I could see the relief as she realized I had finally given up the political activism.
“Arthur, the esoteric way is your path. When you used to speak a lot about politics I could see the turmoil inside you; it was like something you needed to resolve and in this article I see you’ve resolved it. Politics will always be politics and it never fails to degenerate into a fight for power while the ideals get left behind. It’s important on some level of course, but it’s not for you, it’s not your way. When I see you doing Tarot readings, teaching or reading charts you almost glow and I love to watch you do it. I understand you need
ed to work out the political ideas but I’m very glad you finally made your way out of that.”
“It’s very strange, I used to think it was so important and now I can barely read the newspaper. With all that’s going on in the world these last few months amazingly for me, I don’t really care. It’s like watching re-runs of a show that seems dated.”
“But what do you think’s going to happen? I mean, it seems like things are becoming more and more unhinged.”
“Well, my days as a political prophet ended when, paradoxically, I could finally see what the outcome would be. I know it sounds pretentious, but once I solved the puzzle it seemed to fade into the background for me. Fanaticism is always a sign of doubt. If people don’t want to accept what’s going to happen then why insist? The financial system is a huge pyramid based on fake, but as long as people want to believe in it the system will continue. Only when the world is ready to accept the truth will the whole thing collapse and I’ve come to the realization that it can’t be pushed; it has to happen in its own good time.
And on the geo-political level, the Middle East is blowing up as we speak. It’s impossible that a large war won’t occur there, the question is when and how will it play out. I think the powers that be have planned for the financial collapse but they don’t know how the Middle East will finally resolve itself. Whatever happens, it won’t end nicely, and once it blows up the shock of it will wake people up and then maybe something really new can come out of it. But as of yet people aren’t ready to wake up to the truth- they need to be hit over the head and I’m afraid they will be. I don’t really think the average person is capable of imagining the magnitude of the collapse and the fragile interconnectedness of everything through the monetary system. We have each other, a dacha, and potatoes, we’ll survive.”
“Do you really think it will be that bad?”
“Almost sure of it, it seems clear as day to me. But, like you have told me, the important things happen on a different level and I think that’s where we are.”
“I’m just worry about my daughter, her future.”
“Her future, hopefully, will lie on the other side of this curve, on the good side and she might have a life in a much better world. I don’t worry about it anymore, when it happens it will be very quick. Those who are holding on for their lives to the old ways will be decimated, their worldviews completely shattered, their money gone. This, I believe, is one of those moments in history when you have to just go where things take you. It feels like the wave has begun; how long it will take to reach its crest is anyone’s guess but I would say a few years, at least that’s how it feels. She’ll be all right, she has good genes.”