Unlocking the Mysteries: Pavlos’s Surprising Transformation in His Grandfather’s Study

July 27, 2024

Pavlos sat alone in his grandfather’s study, a place steeped in memories and the faint scent of old books and leather. The room was his sanctuary, a haven where he found solace among familiar objects: the fruit bowl on the side table, the worn chair, and the portrait of his grandfather gazing down from the wall. The dim light filtered through the dusty curtains, casting an ethereal glow on the room. But today, something was different.

The call—he couldn’t think of a better name for it—began as a subtle warmth in his palms. It grew, radiating from the center of his hands to the base of his fingers, eventually reaching the tips. The warmth transformed into a quivering tingle, like millions of tiny feathers stroking under his skin. Startled, Pavlos looked around the room, his eyes landing on the picture of his grandfather. The warmth in his hands faded as he focused on the portrait, but when he redirected his attention back to his hands, the warmth returned.

Intrigued and a bit unnerved, Pavlos decided to experiment. Could he maintain the warmth in his hands while being aware of something outside himself? He chose the picture of his grandfather as his focal point. As he concentrated, a surge of energy raced up from the soles of his feet, halting abruptly near his navel. The energy solidified into a powerful sense of centeredness and balance, filling the emptiness within his chest with a newfound strength.

The sensation intensified, spreading through his body until he felt as though he were aflame from within. Strange symbols and geometric shapes, hieroglyphics, and formulas began to rise in his mind like smoke. His body blazed with a profound understanding that transcended mere thought. “This must be what religious sighs are about,” a voice said. Was it his own thought or something external? Pavlos could no longer distinguish between inner and outer reality. The posture of his body, the position of the furniture, and the entire ambience of the room reverberated through his nervous system, tingling with a new sense of expectation.

Pavlos’s heart raced, his mind spinning with questions. What was this sensation? Why was it happening now? The study had always been a place of comfort, but now it felt like a portal to another dimension, charged with an electric anticipation that made his skin prickle.

The sense of expectation coiled upwards from the base of his spine like a neon curl, sparking into his body’s nerve circuits a shock of recognition. Pavlos felt a connection to something greater, something ancient and wise. The room seemed to pulse with life, as if it held secrets waiting to be discovered. He could hear the faint ticking of the old clock on the mantle, each second amplifying the intensity of his experience.

He closed his eyes, allowing the sensations to guide him. His breath deepened, and he felt as if he were floating in a sea of energy. The warmth, the symbols, the voice—they all merged into a single, harmonious experience. When he finally opened his eyes, the room looked the same, yet everything had changed. He felt more alive, more attuned to his surroundings and to himself.

Pavlos realized that the call was an invitation to explore deeper aspects of his consciousness, to unlock potentials he had never known existed. A wave of emotions washed over him—curiosity, excitement, and a bit of fear. With a sense of purpose and curiosity, he embraced this new journey, eager to see where it would lead. The study, once a place of solace and memories, had become a gateway to a realm of profound discovery and self-awareness. As he stood up, the portrait of his grandfather seemed to smile down at him, as if approving of the path Pavlos was about to embark on.

The adventure had just begun.


My Mother’s Anatolian Icon

December 19, 2023

On a quiet Sunday, December 10, 2023, my mother left this world. A cherished relic, once belonging to my grandmother, had become my mother’s dearest possession. It rested faithfully by her bedside, accompanied by the constant glow of an olive oil lamp, flickering day and night.

In her room, when I visited, she would present the icon for me to kiss and cross myself.

This icon held profound significance for my family, hailing from Pontic Greeks who endured the harrowing attempted genocide in the 1920s. Known as the Great Disaster among Greeks, my grandparents faced unspeakable challenges during their escape, carrying with them this sacred icon. In those trying times, my grandmother, a beacon of strength, invoked the Mother of God, Theotoko, for solace and sustenance.

Picture a group of weary children and adults, huddled around a fire by the roadside, hungry and desperate. My grandmother, with unwavering faith, would bring out the cherished icon. She urged the children to kiss it and make the sign of the cross. Then, with profound devotion, she raised the icon to the heavens, repeating the ritual three times—for the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost—beseeching Theotoko for divine intervention. Each time before she raised it to the star filled sky, she brought it back to her heart.

Amidst the crackling of the fire, my grandmother, holding the icon aloft, turned to share its grace with the circle of souls around her. She dipped the icon into a vessel of water three times, each motion filled with fervent prayer. As the icon emerged for the last time, she declared that the Mother of God had provided. The once-hungry children filled their cups, drank deeply, and found their hunger miraculously satisfied.

This faded icon, a witness to survival and faith, now holds a special place in my heart, connecting me to a resilient past and to my mother and her mother and to the Mother of God.

I’ve included this story in the book I’m writing which I am dedicating to my mother.

Below is a two faced icon also given to me by my mother. I thought I’d include it here. Found out through Twitter that it is a Byzantine Fan used in Liturgy and is called a ripidion, or hexapterygon.