My Story (continued)

Part 2. (Part 1 )

So, the teens didn’t start well. I was miserable in my plump shell of a body. But the smarts were there. And interestingly, some sort of intuition, or knowing, survived through all the calamities of the previous years. I hit the jackpot when I had a growth spurt closer to 14-15 years of age, so whatever extra weight I had had, then distributed evenly along the taller frame. I felt lucky. But, of course, for a teenage girl, that was still not good enough. I still suffered emotionally but no attempts to improve the situation were made.

I have always been a reader. In my childhood, the choice of books was scarce. In the Soviet Union one had to queue for everything but some things, like good quality books, were not available for masses, only through certain firms one could get a subscription which entitled them to get a couple of books every 6 months or so. It was mostly Russian authors, or foreign classical literature. To get access to such subscription one had to work for such a firm. No luck for my family in this area but I managed to scavenge the libraries’ shelves for something that I was interested in – fantasy, detective stories. Later, after the fall of the Soviet Union, people in Russia experienced an influx of all sorts of literature into the country. When I was 16, I saw a book at one of the numerous book stalls, generously dispersed around my home town, which grabbed my attention. The title read “Transcendental Psychology”. I had no idea what “transcendental” meant but the surge to get this book was so strong that I spent nearly all my pocket money to buy it. It was a hardcover and printed on very poor quality paper. I believe I never finished the book; it was a hard read! I wish they sold something like Louise Hay’s work in those days in Russia! But no, I dived straight into the deep end.

Why mention that book purchase? Well, I mark it as my first, albeit subconscious, impulse towards esoterics. And my interest in fantasy and detective genre re-surfaced in my present work as a naturopath and healer, where I do connect with energy bodies of a human being, and I do a lot of detective work into why a disease appeared in this particular person. The work of a naturopath is indeed akin to the work of a good detective, looking at all the evidence (blood, urine, hair tests results, MRIs, ultrasound scans reports, patient’s health history) from birth up until now and what’s been happening in his/her life on emotional and mental levels.

Another incidence occurred around the same age of 16 was when I felt a powerful desire to be part of a sacred place. I couldn’t think of anything but a church.

So, I talked to my girlfriend and persuaded her to accompany me. Every Sunday morning, at 7.30 a.m. we used to catch a bus, which would take us to the outskirts of the town, where the most beautiful church in the area stood. It was unlike traditional Russian orthodox churches in appearance, but rather a Catholic cathedral, with Orthodox Christian interior. It was quite a commitment for two teenage girls to do that every Sunday, regardless of the weather or the mood. It felt peaceful, it was a respite from the family chaos. I connected to my soul, standing there, in the church hall, among the parishioners, saying psalms, praying from the heart. The older ladies in the parish insisted we young girls learn more about the customs and ceremonies so that we behaved properly during the mass (the Russian church is very ritualised, very old-fashioned, one would say, in the way they operate, even now). This triggered a rebel inside me, because I believed no one can tell me how to approach God and where to put candles. But I still kept going to masses for some time after that.

It stopped when one of the girls fell in love.

To be continued…