The end


I forgot to mention another important event: a random discovery, while surfing on medium waves, the programs of Radio Sophia. I probably began listening to it soon after my conversion. This radio still exists, now in Internet format only, transmitting excellent programs about Orthodox Christianity and the other two major denominations, literature – Russian and foreign, music – from Church music to rock-n-roll and blues, politics and much more. There, back in Russia its programs were like an opened-into-springwetair window of a dusty room, just like the books of Fr Alexander Men. Through this radio I learnt about Fr Georgy Chistyakov, a disciple of Fr Alexander – his lectures and sermons gave an immediate experience of Christ’s presence and were very inspiring. I especially remember one, about the Holy Friday (Passion Week). It was clear to me that there was an acting, fully-involved-with-this-world Orthodoxy somewhere, outside – Fr Georgy was serving somewhere in one of Moscow churches but somehow I did not attempt to find him or to make any other steps into that reality.

The death of my grandfather almost coincided with the end of the time of abundant grace. I began cooling down, reading and praying less, feeling less. I knew from the books that such indifference is inevitable and one must struggle to keep what s/he was given but I did not manage.

During my last Institute years I have been working as a free-lancer for the state publishing office. It was a reliable indicator of a changing situation in the country. In the beginning of my work there most of the projects were accepted with enthusiasm; later I started encountering more and more difficulties. The editors seemed to be able to see the traces of “cosmopolitism” and “lack of love for Russia” in almost every illustration. The atmosphere in Russia was thickening again.

Approximately at that same time happened my short but horrendous relapse to the occult. I cannot explain it otherwise than with my ignorance and spiritual deterioration to the point of numb idiocy. I came to my senses very soon, rushed to the monastery, confessed and forgot about it; later I had to deal with the weighty consequences of my experiments (of that last relapse and those I wrote before).

Soon after I finished the Institute I left for Australia, forever – knowing that I must leave but without a clue what would be next.


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