“Spacibo”

“Spacibo”

As temperatures drop, Solstice approaches, and snow reclaims the Sierras, my soul turns to the Land of the Midnight Sun. In summer, the sun hovers into the night, but in winter, Russia faces some of the shortest days on Earth. A land of paradoxes and extremes. Home of the Russian Orthodox Church, Joseph Stalin, Kirlian photography, Dr. Zhivago, and The Nutcracker. The harshness of this country’s winter is rivaled only by its legacies of power: czars, the KGB, nuclear weapons, and the Russian mob.

When I visited Communist Moscow and Leningrad (St. Petersburg) in 1990, I found two extremes I had not expected: generosity and gratitude. The beauty of these cities came from more than elaborate and brightly colored architecture; I noticed a special beauty about the people themselves captured in the country’s atmosphere. The overall feeling was one of sadness--an inherited longing steeped in tradition, still so apparent in their everyday lives. But from this suffering bubbled forth a kind of joy. Russians might have waited in line for hours to buy bread, but they did not withhold. In a State that underscored lack, these people honored hospitality.

One of my most touching encounters occurred in Leningrad on the steps of a museum commemorating the czars. Famished, I sat outside eating the only American food I had left—peanut butter and a granola bar. I must have looked disgraceful sitting near a national monument with Jif all over my hands! Instead of staring in disgust, a Russian woman approached me shyly and asked in English, “Are you very tired and hungry?” When I replied “yes,” she looked at me kindly and said, “I wish you good things in all the rest of your life.” She stared into my eyes, smiled and then walked away. Her words startled me less than how naturally she had said them. Never in America had I felt such warmth from a total stranger, but I found such meetings commonplace in Russia. How odd that in a land of terrible repression the people remained so unreserved! Perhaps they had learned to treasure what lies beyond the State.

One boy in particular almost made me cry when we discussed the differences between our two countries. His salary stood at 17 rubles a month—the equivalent of about one U.S. dollar. He dealt heavily on the black market just to survive, and his embarrassment over his small wardrobe made me cringe as I thought of my own relative extravagance. He told me Gorbachev was “all talk, no do,” an expression many young people used. Yet, this boy was hardly devoid of hope; his eager desire to learn “American English” was both admirable and refreshing. As I left, he took out a Russian wristwatch, put it in my hand, and kissed my cheek. So grateful for our conversation, he would take nothing--not even American dollars--in return.

These examples by no means describe everyone I met, but they do convey a spirit of generosity that emanates from Russian hearts. By no accident, the first Russian word I learned was “Spacibo,” which means “Thank you.” This winter, as the days darken and the weather freezes into the world of Anna Karenina and War and Peace, let us call forth our own light and warmth. In the midst of winter, we, too, can reveal our Midnight Sun--spreading its rays around the world. May the magic of this season snow-shower you with blessings.

Laura Bruno is a Life Coach, Medical Intuitive consultant and Reiki Master Teacher. You can reach her at 775-750-9140, or through her website: www.internationalrenaissancecoaching.com.