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The Master/My Life before Meeting the Master

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My Life before Meeting the Master

Looking back from the new pure life, either given to me by You, or won back by You for me — what do I see?

A helpless wandering in the darkness, a persistent and painful search for Truth, a search for a way out of the impasse of ignorance and my own compulsively repeated mistakes… I see a lie that penetrated deep into my very essence, permeating it through and through… I see a longing, an urgent need to be cleansed of this lie! To be cleansed — at any cost, at any cost! And for only the essential to remain! And, even now, it is still necessary to understand: what in my life and in me is essential?!

What I write is my way of expressing my gratitude to You! Although, I know that an adequate expression of gratitude and love must be given not with words, but with life itself, which I will live, fulfilling everything that You have taught me!

* * *

I remember that as a child I felt as if a sad, useless creature, mistakenly got into this family and to these people. I felt: “I shouldn't be here!”.

My parents, both from “dysfunctional” families, who each had their own troubles, “coped with life” as best they could. And they gave me the best they could. It wasn’t their fault that it wasn’t what I needed. They could not give me what I needed, because they did not know how to love. And, after all, do many people actually know how?

Acutely sensing people, their pain and evils, at some moment, I started to perceive the entirety of human life as a nightmare, from which it was necessary to bail out others and to escape myself.

But this viewpoint was a consequence of my misunderstanding of the laws by which the universe is arranged.

In particular, “what you sow, you reap!”. And have we sown rightly, if we have to reap pain as a result?…

As a child, at the age of five, I had an incident that probably predetermined my future life. Our neighbor, an elderly woman, was cooking something in the kitchen and went out into the yard, leaving the pan on the fire. Either the door slammed, or her granddaughter, two-year-old Yulka, locked the latch from the inside as a prank — but, in any case, her grandmother could not get back into the house. The contents of the pan were on fire, and the kitchen and gradually the whole house filled with smoke.

Our grandmothers — mine and Yulka’s — found a way out of this situation: I, being a suitable size, had to slip through a fortochka* and open the door from the inside.

I remember how my body sank forwards, down into the frightening unknown, searching for a foothold. And how, at long last, it finally hit something. It was probably the windowsill. The gloomy, unfamiliar room was filled with thick smoke. I passed through the kitchen, and then the corridor, where, because of the smoke, there was almost nothing left to breathe and nothing could be seen. My trembling hands fumbled for the door latch — it felt like an eternity…

The latch was finally found, the door swung open, and I stumbled out into the blinding glare of the sunny day. Light — from yellow leaves, the blue sky, and the sun! Fresh, lively air! And I could breathe! And — see!

Since then, countless times, I have had to fall into some kind of despair again and again, frantically looking for a way out of it. It even seems that I myself purposely got into such situations. And only recently, I am now 37, did I begin to feel that this is too much for one person! That it’s too much for me! And that I cannot do it alone! I need help!

And there was a way out. And I was not alone! I will never be alone again!

* * *

At a very young age, I learned to read. And books were everything to me: friends, teachers, and often a refuge. One of the traits of my character was an insatiable desire to learn: to learn new things. Hence the impatience to get to school, then to university, and then to the so-called adult life. And this impatient aspiration of mine was consistently broken by reality: both at school, and with students, and at work. And the realization very quickly came that they were teaching the wrong things, and that everything was backwards, and not as it should be!

But where to find the truth? And how to live further?

… During my school years, our family spent every summer in the countryside, in a rural house on the bank of a big river. Here, the wind would run through my hair while riding on a bike, and move the feather grass of the steppe like waves of the sea. And no matter how long I looked, I just could not get enough. There was clean and tasty water in our well, quiet sunsets, and open sky everywhere you looked: overhead, and reflected in the river. During those childhood years, all of this gave me an understanding that this is the real life. And each time it was unbearable when it seemed to end, and it was necessary to return to the city for the beginning of the next school year.

It was in the midst of the open expanses and freedom of childhood that what may be called the ability to feel God was born in me. All the adults around me were far from religious. And I, being by nature reserved, did not dare to ask them about it. Therefore, I did not have a clear image of what He is, where He is, and what He wants from me. I had only one certainty and that was that He, of course, exists, and that therefore it is shameful to act badly.

I found the prayer “Our Father” in a magazine, cut it out secretly and kept it under my pillow until I learned it by heart. For some reason, it seemed to me that everything connected with God must be kept secret.

Was it not more appropriate for a child to listen to the evening silence, to admire the dawn mist over the river, or to breathe the scent of flowering acacias?…

Indeed, all of this was also a part of my childhood. As was also a sense that these words, albeit incomprehensible, were correct and good, and that they needed to be remembered and cherished in my heart. In the future, this feeling helped me more than once, by allowing me not to pass by the right and good words, books and people, even if at first I did not understand something and did not agree.

After graduation, I left my parents’ home and the city to study further. In the freedom that fell upon me from the variety of choices of opportunities — I decided to do journalism. At the time, it seemed to me that there was so much injustice and grief around because everyone was only aware of their own troubles. But if as many people as possible were to find out about various issues, they would not stay away and would definitely come and help…

Working first for a newspaper and then as a reporter on a television news program, I grew, like a snowball rolling downhill, into stories of human misfortune. This “snowball” got bigger and bigger, picking up speed and taking me further away from my goal of helping people. In my blindness and stupefying daily routine, I did not at all notice that what I was doing was very superficial, and that the troubles were not becoming less. If I was able to help someone, then this help was momentary, situational, and nothing in this person’s life changed.

It took me almost ten years to understand the obvious: talking about helping and actually helping — are two different things. It is like talking about life, without really knowing anything about it. I could no longer remain in the profession which I had chosen so rashly. And I decided to finally find out: what is life?

After trying different types of activities, I settled on the teaching of foreign languages to adults and children. It was in the interaction with children that I managed to find something real, alive, and sincere that brought satisfaction and joy. And although I constantly had reflections on the topic: “Who am I to teach?” and “What can I teach them? What do I myself know?” — this work made sense. I could see the results! And regular long-term communication with children and their families taught me to understand people better. It taught me that most often the cause of one’s own troubles and misfortunes are in oneself, in one’s actions. And until one understands this and changes oneself, no one will be able to help.

* * *

As for the main thing — the search for God — I was not original, starting to search for Him in the Orthodox Church. I myself was from a family in which my relatives did not adhere to the traditions of the church. In my student years, I tried to communicate with those friends and colleagues who had the opposite situation. These were those who called themselves “believers” and who, from childhood, were brought up in the traditions of the church. I tried to spend as much time as possible with such people, observing their lives, trying to learn from them and to comprehend their beliefs.

And here is what I understood: those “believers” did not know God! And they, like me, had no answers to the main questions of life! They lived like everyone else: either calling themselves Christians, or not calling themselves this. The only difference was that the “believers” went to church on Sundays and holidays and sometimes fasted. But all of this was as if separate from everyday life, somewhere far away from it, and there didn’t seem to be any clear reason why this was the case. I also lived like them for a long time, believing that it should be so, and that nothing more is needed…

But soon, I needed more — like air! And this need led me further.

The experience of the sacraments and sometimes even prayers at home allowed me to touch higher states, which were something amazing that exceeded my capacity to hold. And, although these states could not be kept for a long time, they made it possible to feel the reality of the existence of God and they encouraged me to keep trying.

For this, I am grateful to Orthodoxy. But at some point, it became obvious to me that in its modern form it only leads away from the Truth, hiding the Teachings of Jesus by many obscure and often contradictory words, strange rites, rules, and superstitions. And, it leaves unanswered questions, which are keys to any religious concept.

“Love your enemies” (Matthew 5:44). But how to learn this? After all, to love even your neighbors does not always work!

“Be perfect as your Heavenly Father is perfect” (Matthew 5:48). But is this achievable? And, most importantly, how to achieve this? And the church calls the desire of man to become better… — pride…

“Your Father…” — so is He my Father too? And is the statement, “I and the Father are One” (John 10:30) also possible for me? And again — how?

And most importantly, who is this Father? And where to find Him? And what do these words mean: Son, Holy Spirit, Resurrection? What is the meaning of human life, if only one fate awaits everyone — the death of the body? And what happens to the person next? There are no intelligible answers in Orthodoxy!

I was also embarrassed by the church’s proposed way of communicating with God: to constantly ask Him for something: “Give, Lord!”, “Lord, have mercy!”. But I wanted to learn to personally see and understand God! And again — how? Without these answers, religion is simply a set of rites of protective magic… And, probably, the majority of people adhere to religious rituals precisely in order not to be so scared to live and die…

Why should I live, work, or learn something? Why give life to children if they, like me, are doomed to one thing: an inevitable death? And, unfortunately, very many people go to extremes when making such conclusions, voluntarily leaving life… Only by a happy coincidence, did I not become one of them. And maybe also because I, as a soul, always knew: there has to be some answers to these questions, I just can’t find them right now!

It was You who found these answers for me and for everyone!