Life in the wake of Heaven's gain

Master iconographer Ksenia Pokrovsky at an icon workshop held by Hexaemeron

And so on July 7, 2013 it has come to pass that my beloved icon mentor Ksenia Pokrovsky has made her transition from this earth to the Eternal.

I am still in awe of the small miracle of her husband's message (dear Lev Alexeyevich Pokrovsky) getting through to me as he sent it out in Russian and somehow it translated and got to me--an unlikely happenstance. It was a very special blessing to have received the word in time to make the journey to her memorial service in Salem, Mass. last Wednesday night 7/10.

The timing of her passing has left a profound impact upon me for so many reasons.  All my intentions and hopes to return to see her and Lev were continually postponed and never materialized.  It was always one step too far to get the chance to go.  But I was able to say goodbye there in the small Russian Orthodox church, with the beautiful song and liturgy as her body lay there with us, with those who loved her.  

It turns out Ksenia had been sick for a long while.  I knew she had been battling with insomnia and a delicate heart.  It was heart surgery the week of July 4th that she never returned from.

Ksenia made this world a more beautiful place.  I was made a better person in the great blessing of knowing her and having the time to have spent with her in the studio and her tremendous patience with me--even with my ignorance of so much...I am humbled at the simple knowing of the enormity of what I was graced with.

The plan of my life has strengthened in the wake of this transition.  I have been given a clarity and renewed resonance of purpose to the larger goals of my own earthly journey, wading through the on-going awe of timing and Providence and grace.  Ksenia gave me a compass to cherish and even though I didn't have the time to invest more with her, what was given was nothing short of a true gift in the lessons that were imparted.

I will always remember Ksenia's smile and humor and ability to see the bigger picture.  Her making me sit and slow down and drink tea and be....the art of speaking without talking.  And she would smoke her cigarettes and the birds would sing in her kitchen.  Her beautiful hands that were so skilled and accomplished that so lovingly shared the skills and nuances of articulating line.  The painful ache of being told that I didn't understand, and her encouragement of finding a way to get to there.  Her telling me to scrape, re-do, and scrape more--and knowing the joy of finally arriving at a place of hearing her say "yes", as my heart filled to the brim at the happiness of making it to the place she intended.  The way she said "tender"--to know there is love in the simple act of line, and that line in and of itself is obedience.

I cannot put into words the Beauty that was made manifest through Ksenia. 

The act of climbing the stairs, as anticipation would build to enter into her world which encompassed not only Ksenia herself, but her sweet husband Lev who was always lovely to talk to, daughter Anna,  grandchildren and countless other visitors who would pass through their home. And I too was treated as family, and had a place in her story.

For all this I thank Father Alexander Men who gave her the charge of passing on the gift of iconography.   

She was gracious enough to take on a pregnant student, and then one that brought baby (Soren let me paint for so many months with him on my knee or lap).  She understood me and my motherhood. She too, the mother of five, and one who found a way to the brush.

Ksenia's calling was great.  I have heard stories of heart conversion from seeing the great icon of the Holy Trinity of Rublev, and her icons too are able to open the soul.  They shout from the rooftops and from the mountains that Christ in his infinite beauty is present, is here, in the moment face to face with us though the icon--whether it be through Christ himself or his larger family and angels that sing of the reality of theology in line and color and form.  The Incarnate Truth, present to behold.

Ksenia too has now passed through the window of Eternity that she knew so well in the day-to-day reality of her gift made manifest.  Thanks be to God!

And may her soul bask in the glory of heaven and the fullness of the Resurrection.

Icon of the Resurrection written by Ksenia at St. Andew's Orthodox Church, Lexington, KY. http://www.izograph.com

Making way, making new

Spring.  Renewal.  At last.

More than a year gone since the last words placed here and time shaped by other speeds driving my way. Outside the confines of routine and survival, much has been incubated within in regards to heart-fires, but need now to resurface the voice, and keep it kindled and flamed. And so I will try to place words down to mark passage for this movement, this transition, this healing pulling towards new horizons.

Much reason to give thanks amidst minimizing of space and other worldly constraints--a healing herniated disk, Aaron's creative struggles pushing into clarity of step, the longing of my creative paintbrush (backseat now to the daily motions of work) but stepping out in bursts of form, children growing happy & quick--all amidst a world crying out in brokenness...

Give us Lord our daily bread.

I have contemplated now since leaving Mill Pond the divine appointment in time of all things, and the necessity to embrace our own inability to comprehend the bigger orchestrations behind it all.  I am firmly adhering to the notion that now is a time of preparation, of pared down simplicitiy in order to recognize signs of direction.  To try, to learn, to take the high road in all daily struggles, no matter how painful or incomprehensible. Acceptance?  And most especially recognizing that within the nakedness, the stripping of things in the present moment, there is discovery of Franciscian liberty and freedom that I would not have been ready for otherwise.  Strange how in the minimal, the simplicity laid bare on the threshold of our door that The Dream can surface stronger than ever, binding all together, reminding that the multitude of hopes planted deep in the bones will not be extricated easily. Laying bare pushes all the elements to the surface--hopefully to examine and understand with grace sloughing off the eyes of self that bind and can confuse and hinder the a-ha (love that a-ha!). Peace.  If only more of those clarity moments.  To ride it like a balanced kayak skimming the surface and floating on the wake of rushing white rapids...carry it through, carry it through, carry it through.

And so now, in one of those moments, hope is what I ride on, and a subtle, surfacing understanding that visions have their own way of coming into being--oft not the way that our limited gaze and scope could ever expect.  I want to embrace my unknowing.  It is our human priviledge to operate joyfully under the grace of the moment, and yet to recognize the signs of the path to walk on in the journey.  And to not to fall asleep, but push on and on into prayer, into the eye of the storm, into the still point that buoys us all.

The fiddleheads are preparing to rise in the wet earth blanketing these hills.  Laughter of the children echo and resound too making this day whole.  This winter was very long (too long), and finally, finally we can step out of its tarried shell into newness and regeneration. Push aside the dead leaves and see the multitude of greening rising, rising, rising.

Today my brushes will be dusted.  
...St. Francis will position himself, the crown of thorns surrounding the Mandylion of Christ will come into focus and Moses will move from pooled color in darker shades slowly into light.

Here, now, always, simple gratitude.