I Live

Hello friends and other interested parties. My name is Ekaterina. I was born in Russia during the year of dragon (according to the Chinese wisdom), month of cancer (according to astrology). Currently we are in the year of the rat, characterised by the global Corona pandemic, which gives a message: start taking care of the rats instead of chasing them, and I hope that the humanity will arrive to this conclusion, since all animals are sacred.

 I have the tendency to think in mystical terms, you see.

Officially it was still a year of stagnation of the old Soviet Union, but I can confirm from lived experience, that I was born in a beautiful land: RUSSIA.

I was a seeker from the moment I was born. I was lying in my cot and always observing, seeing magic everywhere that no one else could see. At the age of three, just to give you a good example, I saw the devil for the first time, staring at me from the window. I wasn’t really scared, just little bit surprised, and his view was magnificent: right how he is usually described in scary books and movies. A monster, but a gorgeous one. I remember my parents telling me that it was all my imagination, but when I saw the devil for the first time, I said to myself: he is real, and what you see, is real too.

My own story of beauty and the beast continued all my life: you can read about my encounters with the devil on my blog: http://www.russianpatient.com, as well as about my diagnosis of ‘bipolar’, inflicted on me when I was 27. But if ‘bipolar’ is what I am, then I was blessed with this condition since the moment I was born. I had a vivid imagination, always wanting to connect with the sky. I remember walking to school, and looking up. What is there, I kept on asking myself? Surely, there is more to our reality, than what is presented as the absolute objective truth?

Officially my diagnosis came after my second ‘psychosis’. Apparently the psychiatry has a script to follow: if you are ‘psychotic’ more than once, then a diagnosis of ‘bipolar’ or ‘schizophrenia’ is assigned to the already distressed patient. Personally, I prefer ‘schizophrenia’ as diagnosis as it’s the one that gives psychiatry any legitimacy: that’s the one they will never understand and they shouldn’t. My second psychiatrist gave me the diagnosis of ‘schizophrenia’ at first but later on it was changed to ‘bipolar’. I found the debate about my diagnoses both interesting and draining, Especially, that what they define as ‘psychosis’ is a beautiful experience on my part.

I see angels, I talk with God. I meet with the devil, each time he appears in a different form. I have strong, powerful visions, I am your modern shaman. I communicate with birds, and other animals, but I am, definitely a cat queen, and the master of seagulls. I lucid-dream very often, where I sometimes become a fairy and try to make this world a better place. That’s what bothers me the most each day: how to make out of this earth a paradise, instead of misery we see everywhere, such as wars, September Eleven, fight among the religions, poverty, hunger, distressed children. How? How, indeed, to make it all again beautiful, equal for everyone and unique? How to transform the planet earth into a place of beautiful magic, so that Jesus, when he returns, can walk here in peace and glory?

The above statements are defined by the psychiatry as ‘delusional thinking’, if you are interested to know.

After receiving my diagnosis, I noticed a peculiar thing. There is a terrible stigma attached to the condition. Depression appears to be accepted now, but don’t you dare to be little bit ‘schizo’, such as ‘bipolar’, ‘having schizophrenia’, or god bless, ‘personality disorder’. It seems to me (that’s paranoia speaking) that the psychiatry does it on purpose. They say they are trying to ‘help’ you, but if you read the definitions attached to the above psychiatric conditions, then you will notice, a contradiction. It can’t be helped. It’s written, that it’s chronic. It’s written that it is life threatening. It is written that people with such ‘conditions’ lead a miserable life and die earlier.

It is simply depressing, and awfully sad. Why is it such a ‘crime’ to dance naked under the stars, communicate with nature, and see angels? Why are we punished with diagnoses, and then punished even more when we refuse to accept the medical model of looking at humans experiences? You might risk being accused as a non-compliant, or as a scientologist, as I was at some point, which made me, obviously, curious about the scientology, not that I even know how to join it and become a member. A couple of scientologists I met, were very nice people, though.

Why is it such a ‘crime’ to explore alternative realities, and look for something beyond our totally medicalized society? In some cultures, one would be revered instead and, not locked away. To change our current status quo would entail fighting with big companies and psychiatry as an institution, and a few individuals who see beyond the rule of Big pharma and psychiatry as an institution to control human behaviour, have little chance to success. But I do hope, it will change one day, and or that at least, I, in my personal life, will be able to exit the narrative.

In my own personal life, I achieved lots of beautiful things, with the label of ‘bipolar’ hanging behind my back. I have one bachelor diploma, two master degrees, with one of them being executive (recognised as MBA), a PhD in philosophy, and fluent, excellent knowledge of four languages: Russian, French, English and Dutch. I lived in 4 countries, in two of them twice, worked in finances as an analyst and portfolio manager in Amsterdam, as an interpreter and headhunter in Brussels, as a university teacher in Belgium, The United Kingdom and The Netherlands. I am also a mother, where I try to be at my absolute best, since my son is my biggest achievement, my greatest joy.

Dealing with stigma around the diagnoses is a terrible thing. You are constantly moving with a scarlet letter attached to your back. In the Middle Ages we were burnt on the stake, in the current age, we suffer in silence in psychiatric institutions, which we can never really leave, even if ‘officially’ discharged, because of the diagnosis. It follows you everywhere, in our corrupted Western hemisphere, like a rat that never received any love. I, obviously, removed the label from my own head, but it is still somewhere, in the notes of the deluded psychiatrists. I used to collect their notes, reading what they wrote about me. I stopped at some point and started to write my own notes, my own story. I have a book I almost finished writing by now, and share my notes on my website. I experience my ‘psychosis’ with some pride, you see.

Still, even if the diagnosis is removed by oneself, and of course, you are allowed to do it (why not? Did they show you any physical test, showing that you are ill?), one needs to be extra careful. One is always vulnerable after ending up at some point in psychiatry. For myself, I do take some medication (I can’t afford to stop it, where I am now), I make sure I sleep, I try to follow some routine. Routine is important as it keeps one grounded, when the head has the tendency to fly in the oasis of magical thinking. I try to walk, and listen to birds, I eat well, I indulge in a nice cup of coffee, in a nice glass of red sweet wine on some evenings. Vaping instead of smoking also helps me. I listen to nice music, mostly to either Taylor Swift or Robbie Williams, I cook meals for my son, I love my work when I teach. I continue to write.

I live.

Originally published on Mad in America, here is the link to the original article:

On Forced Meditation

Where I am, in the European country in the north, we have a lockdown for months, and as a result, we are all forced to meditate. Shops are closed, which can be a good thing, but all other nice facilities, such as restaurants, cafes, and theatres, are closed as well, and in masses, we reached the point where there is literally nothing to do.

I call this state a forced meditation. I have thought and rethought about my life in the past couple of months to a grandiose scale. I told myself, in due fashion, that relatively speaking, I am doing fine. I repeated it like a mantra, watching the closed terraces and desolate streets, because without some positive thinking, one is doomed.

For some of us, this forced state of lockdown can be a good thing. I hate shopping, and always thought that it could be a good cause for celebration when shops are closed. I hate the crowds, and I thought that it would be nice to enjoy the city where I live in its beautiful quietness and tranquillity. And yes, I do enjoy the city, the Frisian capital in the north, but certain good things in their absence acquire a nagging ‘come back to me appeal’. There is nothing else more than I want at this moment but to go to a nice cloth shop and stroll, walk in the beauty store and stare at creams, try perfumes in Douglas, or a body oil in the Rituals. I will no longer say I hate shopping, because I hate meditating even more.

I can’t meditate and this is something I learned already long time ago when meditation was presented to us as a spiritual gift worthy of acquiring. I assumed due postures and tried to get rid of my thoughts. They still continued rushing through my head though, reminding me of some better things to do, such as simply having a nice cup of coffee, talk with a friend, or go on a nice walk in nature, in order to, well, meditate. The thoughts were like dark huge clouds around my head, and I realised that I could almost see them at some points, and reach for them with my hand, to never let go. I like thinking, I like thoughts. I like constantly dreaming and thinking, what is there to meditate about, I would ask myself?

And yet, it is the state in which we found ourselves due to lockdown and the crisis around the Covid. As a world population, we are forced to meditate and reflect more, because there is less of distraction. The online world is slowly losing its appeal as well, and we are driven to start appreciating what is around. But what is around, or used to be, is precisely what makes our lives so beautiful. A nice cup of coffee on a sunny terrace in a café, a meal in a restaurant, live music in a bar, a great ballet or opera in a theatre. Or a trip to buy that nice dress in a shop.

All these little things, that’s what makes meditation pleasurable on occasions, but when it is forced on us, it looses its appeal. Meditation can be good only in small doses, as well as closed shops, cafes and theatres.

When will it end?

Do you Remember? By Aleksandr Blok

Do you remember? In the harbor passive,
Just where green water calmly sleeps,
Set in the column, strong and massive,
Appeared navy's silent ships.

All four were gray. And many questions
Were shortly overwhelming us,
And sailors, very tanned and fashioned,
To shore in solemn silence passed.

The world became luring and broad,
But once, ships started to depart:
The four of them on their road
Dug in the ocean and night.

The sea obtained the former glow,
The lone beacon sadly twinkled 
When on the mast, becoming low,
The last of signals lost the link.

Oh, how little we wait from living - 
We are the children - I and you,
You see, the heart is happy, seeing 
The smallest part of all that new.

A pocket knife brought you a treasure - 
The speck of dust from a far land --
And world again becomes a stranger
That by the colored cloud veiled.      

(translated from Russian by Evgeny Bonver)

Is Russell Brand an ideology?

The question of whether Russell Brand can be an ideology was brought up by one of my students in media studies one day, several years ago, when we were discussing the ideology. In order to help and bring you into the picture, ideology is a set of beliefs hold by an individual, group or society taken as granted, but which might not be true at all.

For instance, to give you an example, when I was born, on the 10th of July (which is a month of cancer) during the year of Dragon (I prefer to keep my age as a secret), it was in the socialist country of the Soviet Union, which was busy building communism at that time. I wasn’t questioning the ideal, of course not, because it was and still is, the best system that a society can have in utopia. To each, according to their needs, as Marx would say. In reality, however, this system is the absolute opposite of truth, since humans are too greedy to be able to ever make it happen, and some make more efforts than others, and thus, do deserve more. But everyone should have an equal chance, yes, certainly so!

Moving back to the UK, or most other countries in the west, we live in the capitalism, which is presented to us as the prefect structure, since we can all try to make money, appear on the X-Factor (in theory, of course) and try to lure beauty industry into believing that we are the next top model. Do you understand? We are sold some kind of utopian dream, that is hard to find in the reality of our daily lives.

And so, when the student asked me about Russell Brand and whether he can be analysed as an ideology, I have to say, I was smitten and for a couple of seconds even lost my voice.

My first (internal dialogue) reaction was: WHAT? Followed by (still internal dialogue), I have no ‘f’ clue, and then arriving at the obvious conclusion that most of my students are simply geniuses.

I mean, who could ever think of Russell Brand as an ideology? He is a Brand, not an ideology!

But, that question had been chasing me for the whole week then, to an extent that I researched it rigorously. The thing is, I was curious about Russell Brand before, because I remember that day when I was skipping some boring presentations at a conference, and since no other interesting shops were in the proximity I went to the local academic bookshop. And here it was, that ‘Revolution’ book by Russell Brand, occupying the most prominent place, at the centre of the shop, storing hundreds of copies.

In all honestly, I was surprised to see it because I knew of Russell Brand as a comedian, and seeing him getting into politics with some hint at Marxism, stopped me on my track and I almost bought the book, but then remembered that I had to go back to the conference and a bag of purchase from a bookshop would betray me as the biggest procrastinator.

However, I did subscribe to his channel on Youtube and watch him occasionally, because I do find him funny and he has quite refreshing and interesting view on politics. As quoted from Wikipedia, “British commentator Joan Smith dismissed Brand as the “canny self-publicist” who indulges in “waffle about ‘revolution'” as “one celebrity, I’m afraid, who’s more idiot than savant.”

But I disagree with such criticism! It might be that Joan Smith is an idiot herself. For instance, if Russell Brand actually voted (he encouraged sabotaging elections for a number of times), he could indeed become an ideology, especially if he delivers on his promise ‘We’ve got to do something’ and does shake up the current prevailing thinking that we live in some sort of democracy. He is also a very nice and kind man, and all the money from the book (Revolution) went to charity. And looking at his date of birth, 14th of June 1975, he has all the chances to become a politician. His year of birth is the Rabbit, and according to the Chinese, rabbits can make great career in the political sphere. His month of birth represents Gemini, who are natural leaders and end up with a lot of followers.

So, yes, let’s watch this space in terms of Russell Brand becoming a leader of some new political party.

I do strongly advise you to listen to him on his Youtube channel, and especially his views on the current Corona crisis, are intelligent and well-thought. It is also funny to listen to him, because he does remind us of the obvious truths that we can simply observe, when we aren’t sure about the facts, distorted to us by the current media landscape. On the question of whether there is a climate crisis, Brand subtly reminds us that ‘’it is getting a bit hot for January’’.

I like Russel Brand.

Living like a Warrior of Light

‘’The warrior of light is a believer’ tells us Paulo Coelho in his great book ‘Manual of the Warrior of Light. The warrior of light, he recounts and teaches us, often encounters darkness, and fights with evil and various demons, but at the end of the day, he always chooses light, and searching for light and maintaining one’s faith, is the ultimate sword of every warrior of light.

The book is full of wisdom like many other books of Paulo Coelho, because he tells us a story of the fight between the good and the evil. He began this marvelous tale in his book ‘’The Alchemist’’ and since then continued to tell us this beautiful narrative in his many other various book, with the last one being ‘’The Archer’. In it he tells us a very important thing, such as ‘’Join with those who sing, tell stories, take pleasures in life, and have joys in their eyes, because joy is contagious and can prevent others from becoming paralysed by depression, loneliness, and difficulties.’’

These are great words that, especially, appeal to us now, in the current Corona crisis. People feel despaired, – you can feel it on a global scale. Lockdowns are almost everywhere, and people are tired, desolated and lonely. Sitting in the same routine day after day and not seeing faces behind the masks in the shops- this is something that can provoke depression in the most resilient human being. I can see it all around, the signs of depression, in the strongest individuals possible.

It’s precisely now that we need to channel our inner warrior of light. It’s a super-human effort but it can be done. It’s now that the priorities can be changed: instead of a trip to the gym that is closed, start enjoying the nature. Instead of a restaurant that is closed, think of a nice meal to prepare at home and enjoy it with nice classical music in the background. It is now the time to discover and rediscover the great books, the joy of reading, the gift of great music, and the gift of friends that still visit us or that we are able to visit.

The depression can only be combatted with light. Everyone is capable to be a warrior of light. It is fighting for goodness, and for goodness for all. If each of us radiates this light, the world will be a better place. All crises eventually stop, and goodness always prevails over the evil. If you don’t know what to watch during the lockdown, I advise you to watch ‘’Once Upon a Time’’ on Netflix, it’s a great series that remind us of that great wisdom, and they also remind us about forgiveness, another important aspect that Paulo mentions in his books. In the current crisis, especially if we feel unwell, we might feel that it’s because we did something wrong, that it’s the punishment for our past mistakes.

But everyone makes mistakes! Everyone stumbles! Everyone makes something in their lives that later they regret. But Everyone can be also forgiven. ‘’My dear, everyone makes mistakes. You’re forgiven, but I cannot force that forgiveness on you. It’s your choice.’ The True warrior of light accepts that forgiveness.’’ As Paulo Coelho tells us on page 115 of his ‘Manual of the Warrior of Light’.

Christian faith teaches us the same profound wisdom. We all deserve forgiveness (Christ said it) and we can all channel the inner radiant light. Listen to your inner angel, he is always to help you and guide you. He will never abandon you. Turn to him, and surround yourself with little bit more joy on a daily basis.

Because joy can be so simple: a song of a bird, a nice fresh piece of bread, a hug from a friend, laughter over a nice joke, or reading a great book.

Start living like a warrior of light, because it’s a life full of meaning, even during the most challenging times.

Pyotr Mamonov as holy fool? (Holy-Foolishness in Russian Culture: Part Four)

Both ‘Taxi-Blues’ and ‘The Island’ movies (refer to my post on holy-foolishness here, here, here, and here)  acquire an additional meaning when one learns about the life of the main actor who played Lyosha and Anatoly, as one can rightly argue that in both movies the actor played himself.

As the character of the movies, Pyotr Mamonov had and has an unusual life, marked by extravagancy, creativity, unusual and weird behaviour, and a deep spiritual search for meaning and for Christian faith.

He was born in Moscow in 1951, and was expelled twice from a secondary school because he was constantly organising ‘a circus’. He loved dancing, music, and was showing quite remarkable talent in the way he danced. He came across some Western music, including the Beatles, and it marked him profoundly, pushing him to explore different musical genres and performance. While being considered a hippy, he used to distance himself from the group and would often find himself in a conflict or even a fight. In one of such fights he was very badly wounded by a knife, and almost died, but was saved by the doctors and recovered after spending days in a coma.

His behaviour was exuberant and bizarre, he could sometimes walk around with a handle from the toilette seat, or pretend that he would run at full speed and collude with a wall, just to lie down and watch people assembling around him.

His professional path was also very unusual, where in a matter of ten years he changed numerous jobs, and attended a university but without finishing it. He worked as a typist, as a corrector in a journal ‘Pioner’, as a massage therapist, elevator operator, moving man, as well as a translator of poetry from English, Danish, Norwegian, and Swedish languages. He experienced moments of desperation and loneliness, when he would be without any job or any money. During sad periods of his life, he would write his own poetry, and would later use it for his songs.

In the 1983 Pyotr launched his music group, called ‘Zvuki Mu’, which immediately attracted controversy due to unusual, and often absurd lyrics, playfulness, and quite dramatic presence on the stage by Pyotr. He would dance, make weird gestures, exhibit eccentric, artistic behaviour. The fact that many of his songs seemed to reflect the absurdity of that times, the total chaos at the political and economic levels, only attracted more attention to the group. For instance, in his song and video clip ‘Coyz pechat’, Mamonov clearly makes fun of the political uncertainty then, but in a subtle, provocative way. He tells us about going to ‘Kiosk’, which could refer to both a small shop selling newspapers, but also to small shops which started to appear at that time, reflecting the ideological switch from socialism to capitalism, selling everything from Mars chocolate bars to cigarettes and spirits. He sings with a background of Saint Vasilii The Blessed Cathedral, as a sign of trying to find new meaning among instability and uncertainty of the years which preceded the collapse of the Soviet Union and immediately after. Interestingly enough, Mamonov, by positioning himself in the background of the most notorious Russian Orthodox Cathedral dedicated to the most famous Russian Holy Fool, foresaw how he would be perceived later in his life, where he is often referred to in Russia as a ‘holy fool’ (Ruvinsky, 2011).

In 1988 Mamonov made his first appearance in movies by playing a drug lord in ‘The Needle’ (Igla), which became a cult Soviet film. In 1990 he played Lyosha, the saxophonist in Taxi-Blues, where some parallels can be drawn with Mamonov’s real life. It was a turbulent period for former Soviet Union and its people, and ordinary people struggled to find meaning in the chaos of that time. As Mamonov, his character is unpredictable, slightly ‘mad’, talented, artistic and eccentric.

Following the dismantling of his music band, Mamonov had a long period of depression, which he managed to overcome by turning to Christianity and by finding an absolute faith in Jesus. He moved with his wife to a remote village in Moscow region, where he would spend his days on farming and praying, making only very rare appearance at public. He had to be convinced several times to appear as Anatoly in ‘The Island’, where, as it is commonly agreed, he played himself.

Whether we can call Pyotr Mamonov a ‘Holy Fool’ is, of course, embedded in the current discourse on madness and at how we look at eccentricity. Many Russian Orthodox sites themselves refer to him as a true representative of Russian holy-foolishness. Mamonov is a devoted Christian, who had a highly unusual life. As holy-fools in the past, he also battled with madness, having spent some time in a psychiatric hospital, due to his problems with alcohol. He had periods of deprivation, and sadness, and where, ultimately he turned to Christian faith to find his own personal meaning in life.

Mamonov, when he makes his rare public appearances, remains a controversial figure. When he talks about faith, he often uses the same lyrical language he used in his songs. When he received the Russia’s award for best actor following his role as Anatoly, the Christian hermit in ‘The Island’, he came to the ceremony dressed in jeans, an odd cardigan, and sneakers, and proceeded to tell the public that it failed to address real problems in Russia:

“Do you expect Putin to solve these problems? Putin is a wimp, an intelligence officer, what can he do? We should do it ourselves.” (Ruvinsky, 2011).

Understanding Mamonov as a modern holy fool requires understanding of the Russian culture, and its long tradition of the unique phenomenon of holy-foolishness. Russia always looked at manifestations of weirdness and eccentricity as an obligatory trait of national character. Russian culture always had a penchant for the grotesque, for the unusual, embedded in the history which has never been linear, but characterised by changes of regimes, revolution, political and economic uncertainty. Russian people tried to find answers in searching for the meaning, where laughter and weirdness provided a respite from daily problems, gave hope and a new perspective. Ivan the Fool, positioned in Russian folklore, is one of such characters, giving us hope, but also making us laugh, but also Holy Fools, real personalities in Russian history, gave people the possibility of a different interpretation of reality, by using bizarre behaviour and talk in order to highlight the problems of the society and ruling class. The resurrection of Christian faith in Russia following the collapse of the Soviet Union, gave a new justification and reverence for the phenomenon of the Holy Fool.

Mamonov is very popular in Russia today because he is a typical example of someone who overcame the difficulties of the change in regime and political ideology. As many other Russian people, he had difficult moments in his life, where he also experienced deprivation and periods of total hopelessness.  He resorted to Christian faith as many other Russian people, to find new meaning and hope, and uses his popularity and fame in order to tell others about God, while also using his influence to point to the short-coming of the government.

In this respect, we can argue that holy-foolishness is embedded In Russian character and culture, where it is a recognised Christian phenomenon, positioned outside the mental health discourse on madness. Mamonov could be considered as ‘mad’, but because he is Russian, where ‘madness’ is accepted as eccentricity, he managed to channel his eccentricity into a higher purpose, where his madness is used to cherish artistic talent, and educate others about faith.

As Mamonov tells us himself:

“We all choose byways. In this respect, I am a very good example; I often choose the longest way round. Thanks to God, He led me to the right spring….” (Ruvinsky, 2011).

Modern Holy Fool (Holy-Foolishness in Russian Culture: Part Three)

The image of a Holy Fool (read about who is Holy Fool here and here) found its new popularity following the collapse of the Soviet Union. One of the main reasons is, of course, the recognition of Russian Orthodox Christianity as the official religion, but also the collapse of the beliefs of the socialist regime, when the country as a whole found herself in a momentary chaos, becoming, one can argue, a prototype for holy foolishness as a search for meaning.
The holy fool found a renewed interest in Christian studies, but also in academia. However, it is in the popular forms of media, such as films and even music that the holy-fool found a new ‘fame’, he came back to be yet again a spiritual hero, but he also acquired a new angle, the one of controversy in terms of his ‘madness’. What does lie behind his madness? And can we call someone mad, individually speaking, when the whole society can be considered as mad, especially if we look at what was happening in Russia since the late eighties of the last century? The old regime collapsed, reversing the ideology of communism to the ideology of capitalism in a matter of a couple of years. Old government structures were sold as vouchers to the Russian population, to be immediately bought back by those running these companies for a penny, because the population was suddenly starving, making them oligarchs. Shops got empty, there was shortage of food and clothes, and a total disarray in terms of a spiritual direction of the nation. While Russian Orthodox churches were emerging from their oblivion, Tarot readers and palm readers would sit in their proximity and promise the passers-by some hope for a better life. Hypnotist Kashpirovsky got a prime spot on the TV to hypnotize an entire nation, feeding tales from the national TV in 1989.
It was absolute and total madness, and it found its way into popular art, where painters, artists, and film-makers, would resort to the character of a holy fool to make sense of something which didn’t make any sense.
Russia is often referred to by Russians themselves as a country of fools, and the changes that the country witnessed since the collapse of the Soviet Union, could be delegated firmly in the domain of total madness, where the only way to show the light at the end of the tunnel, was to resort to laughter and the grotesque, as a way to manage the deep spiritual malaise. As Heller and Volkova ask, in relation to the fascination of Russian culture with holy-foolishness: “A question arises: is there something deep inside the Russian mentality that correlates with the state of insanity?” (Heller & Volkova, 2003, p. 153) Some changes that Russia has seen since the collapse of the Soviet Union left many Russians at a loss, where they were asked to adjust to a new ideology, new beliefs and new rules, and the popular art showed us the difficulty of the transition, by resorting to holy-foolishness and the character of a holy-fool in order to negotiate the incomprehension and deep spiritual uncertainty that the country and her people experienced then.
During the years of Perestroika, the image of holy-fool became the one of a dissident, adopting the weird behaviour of holy-fool to show the plight of many individuals who struggled to adapt to the changes in Russia on an economic and political levels. We can see this theme clearly in Taxi-Blues by Pavel Lungin, a film which was released in 1990, and which portrays us the reality of Russia at that time.
The film focusses on the life of two protagonists, a taxi-driver, Shlykov, and Lyosha (played by Pyotr Mamonov), a saxophonist. They meet on a ride in a taxi, when Shlykov takes Lyosha and his friends as passengers, but Lyosha doesn’t pay for the ride, after which Shlykov manages to track him down. Both characters then develop a truly bizarre friendship, which becomes a main story on the background of the madness of the country then.
The madness of that time starts from the beginning of the movie. The hypnotist Kashpirovsky greets us on the screen, by delivering his slogan promise: ‘Everything will be calm’. It immediately shows us the absurdity of that times, when ordinary people couldn’t find work, when hard-core communists quickly established their new capitalistic businesses, and when, in the ultimate feat of total absurdity, Mikhail Gorbatchev abolished alcohol, driving many Russians to either create a black market, or resort to the home production of alcohol. Kashpirovsky was put on the national TV in order to try to calm the nation down.
The lives of the two main characters show us how ordinary people managed life at that time. Thus, Shlykov, as it appears, adapted better to the new changes, by working hard as a taxi-driver. He has a room in an apartment, a girlfriend, can afford nice food, and from exterior it looks like a good life. Only by watching the narrative do we discover that he is not really happy in himself, that he doesn’t have many friends, that he struggles to find the spiritual meaning in life. And the aim of the film is also to show that all those who just continued hard-work couldn’t dream of acquiring the same richness that nouveu riches managed to accumulate. Hard-work and integrity were all the values that became suddenly obsolete, not cool and not needed.
On the other side of the spectrum, Lyosha, the saxophonist by profession, refused to adjust. He just goes with the flow. Despite the fact that saxophonists are nor longer needed and struggle to find any employment, Lyosha refuses to change anything, and gets by, by either singing on the streets, or by pure luck, such as meeting Shlykov in a difficult moment in his life and being helped by him. And while Shlykov helps Lyosha on a material level, Lyosha gives Shlykov a new spiritual meaning, found in laughter, unpredictability, and love of grotesque. Lyosha reminds Shlykov to sometimes let go, do something unexpected, believe in the fate.
The character of Lyosha, played by Pyotr Mamonov is often compared to that of a holy fool, but transformed into a modern version of it. We can disagree, however, with that meaning, because while during the whole narrative, Lyosha does exhibit all the characteristics of a holy fool, he fails in the end of the movie to fulfil the ultimate obligation of giving. Lyosha meets a famous American saxophonist at some point, and gets an opportunity to perform in the United States, which re-launches his musical career. Shlykov watches the newly found fame of his friend from a distance, and is desperate to see Lyosha again. He misses the playfulness and cheerfulness of his friend, and he doesn’t understand why Lyosha fails to come and see him when he is back in Moscow. Eventually when Lyosha comes to see him, he brings with him a band of new friends and absurd presents, such as a big doll. We can see that he breaks the heart of Shlykov and lets his old friend down.
But while one can argue whether Lyosha can be compared to the character of a holy-fool, it is the narrative itself that is representative of holy-foolishness positioned at the fall of the Soviet Union. The film shows us how the modern world changed to the worst, where the goodness of character, kindness and empathy are replaced by greediness, strive for material goods, and desire to become famous. It is the story itself that leads us to ask the eternal spiritual questions: but what is the meaning of life if one is lost completely in the material side of it? Should we remain humble even if we get further in life, and still remember those who helped us at the most difficult part of our journey? Shouldn’t we cherish friendship and simple things in life, such as sharing warm soup with friends, laugh even when life is difficult, appreciate people rather than goods?
It is in his next movie, The Island that Lungin returns to the question of deep spiritual meaning. The Island appeared in 2006, quite a few years later after Taxi-Blues. In it we see a story of a modern fictional Russian orthodox monk, played yet again by Pyotr Mamonov.
It starts during the second world war, when sailor Anatoly and his captain, Tikhon are ambushed by the Germans, somewhere at the shore of the white sea. As a grotesque joke, the Germans present Anatoly with a choice: either to shoot Tikhon and live, or die. Anatoly shoots Tikhon after which the Germans blow up the ship.
Anatoly survives and is rescued by the monks from a local monastery, where he stays. It is many years later that the new life of Anatoly is presented to us. He works as a stoker at the monastery and acts as a local ‘wise’ man. It is to him that ordinary people come for advice, prayer and also in order to heal.
The parallels with the holy-fool are much more striking in The Island. Anatoly is a deeply spiritual man, who constantly prays to God. He has a gift of a prophet and of a healer. He sees the future and can predict it. He gives wise advice. At the same time, his behaviour is extremely weird. He rarely washes his face, makes fun of the monks, is always late for the Church services, where he shows up in a truly bizarre attire, one day marching with one foot in a boot, another dressed in a sock.
But while watching the character, we can’t help but fall in love with him and his way of thinking and doing. His faith in God is so beautiful and sincere, that the viewer hopes that he will be forgiven for his ultimate sin. And we are relieved indeed when right before his death (that Anatoly foresees himself several days in advance, by organising his own coffin), we learn that Tikhon had survived. He brings his daughter to see the remote monk due to rumours of his healing gift, and meets Anatoly. Anatoly reassures Tikhon that his daughter is not mad but is possessed by a demon, preforms exorcise, after which she is healed. After that Anatoly tells Tikhon who he is, but Tikhon tells him that he was only wounded in the arm, and that he had forgiven him.
The movie, while basing the character of Anatoly on holy-fool, presents us a different façade of holy-foolishness than the one we have seen in ‘Taxi-Blues’. It reaches a deeper spiritual meaning where we are confronted with the true meaning of holy-foolishness: one has to have faith in God and Jesus, and then and only then, one can become a holy-fool, while renouncing also worldly conventions and material aspects of things. It also shows us Russia as it changed in the years after the turmoil of the uncertainty following the collapse of the Soviet Union. It became quieter in its own spiritual search, firmly embracing Christianity, and by going back to its roots preceding the revolution. The country might still experience turmoil at a political level, but spiritually, it found a new meaning.

What is Normal?

I already discussed the normality as the most boring tale in my other post, but I want to go back to the discussion again. I think, it is a syndrome, a syndrome of normality that we should talk about now.

Let’s define it again.

The state of normality nowadays is presented to us as a state where we don’t ask many questions. We are not really curious about the state of the world, characterised by extreme inequality, where rich are getting richer, poor poorer, and where we have wars amongst religions, hunger, depletion of natural resources, and more. A failure to reflect on it, and not being worried – is sign for me of ‘mental illness’, not the other way around.

The state of normality is sold to us as a state where kindness is no longer a virtue but strive for statuses and wealth is, it is a state where we are living in constant consumption, get quick fixes via apps and the likes, and where reality tv is presented to us as something nice to watch. It’s a state when we like reading the celebrity stories, and read about dirt found on celebrities in some press. If it is normal to enjoy it, then excuse me, I am out of this tale, a tale of the ‘normality’.

A state of normality is a state when we still have religions, but we freak out when we see the proof of God, and or when someone tells us that the person talks with God. Apparently, it is possible to see the signs of God and not feel euphoria from it- how it is done, well, just visit the self-help section in the bookshop, and have a look. It is sold to us now, the spirituality, but those very few who experience it in real life, the state of connection to God, the spiritual enlightenment – are usually diagnosed with ‘mental illness’, like I was.

The normality becomes a syndrome when we just take days as it comes without reflection, without critical thinking, and questions about meaning of life. It is a syndrome when we consume the next celebrity story, next to devasting news about refugees, and just get on with our daily tasks, saying to ourselves: ‘I shouldn’t be too concerned about the misery of others.’ It is a syndrome when we think only about the next thing to buy, a new fancy car to purchase, or have sex via an app. It is a state where we simply stop thinking, thinking about a bigger picture. The earth is a global responsibility, but we tend to be responsible only for our little bubble of a comfortable world: where we are encouraged to buy, to buy more, and even more when people on the other side of the planet are starving.

The syndrome of normality is looking for a partner with money, instead of real love. It’s a state where deep friendships no longer matter, because of the competitive spirit of our world in the West. It is a state when we sell our souls for money, and let’s be frank here: it is all about money nowadays, the icon that replaced God in our current state of ‘normality’’. It is when we judge others who are different, and stigmatise them online. It’s a state where we are allowed to be mean to each other, and where we don’t even know our neighbours’ names.

I exited this tale a long time ago, I try to lead a different life. I don’t watch any TV, but occasional good movies. I read books and I read philosophical books too. I search for love, not a partner. I build amazing, beautiful friendships for life. My best friend is my friend for 37 years now, and I have real friends around the world.

I try to cook simple meals, but I am still affected by consumption, it is impossible to escape it entirely today. I like good face creams that are expensive, but on the other hand, I love my job where I earn good money. I worked hard to be where I am now, on a material level, but I also share.

I listen to good music and I read the news. I don’t read the celebrities stories, but I do cry often when I read about starving children, the refugees and racial or other injustice. I often think about our world and how we should take better care of our planet earth. I reflect.

But I am not ‘normal’. I have a diagnosis of bipolar disorder.

J’adore la langue franҫaise

You need to fall in love with a language in order to master it and to have the desire to speak it fluently.
I fell in love with the French language when I was thirteen, and living in Moscow. I was attending a linguistic college, but I was more interested in socializing rather than studying.
But then one day I met a new teacher. My mum sent me to her. It was a private tutor. I liked her as soon as I saw her. She opened the door to a very messy apartment, full of dogs, books, and all kinds of rubbish.
She sat me on the chair, and produced a cake, and then she started to talk to me, in French.
“I lived in Montpellier,” she told me. “I lived there for seven years. It was a town of magic, not far from the sea, with different colours, interesting people, and great food.”
I thought I couldn’t understand French before I met my new teacher, but when she was talking, I could follow her. Maybe it was the way she was describing Montpellier, or maybe it was her cake. It was delicious, and I liked being in her cosy apartment. Everywhere I looked, there was stuff. Pictures, candles, interesting books, some antique, two beautiful dogs.
I fell in love with the French language during my first lesson with her.
And this love stayed. When you fall in love with a language, you enter into a parallel universe. You enter into the field of that language, the magic of its particular music. 
When I speak French, I am a different person. I am more romantic, I am shyer, I discuss random things: books, music, philosophy, Russia. I start thinking in French when I speak it, and I like the sound of it in my own head. The voices I hear are in French. They sing to me a very beautiful music.
French language is a language of music. If I would assign a piano concerto to it in its quiet mood, it would be Chopin Nocturne op.9 No.2, and something like Stromae (incredible Belgian singer) in expressing the language when one wants to dance.
Pourquoi pas?
I see the colour blue in French, just like in that movie (Les trois Couleurs: Bleu) with beautiful Juliette Binoche. I see the beauty of Sophie Marceau, la Tour Eiffel, Le Louvre, and the philosophy of Michel Foucault. I see my favourite writer, Amelie Nothomb, and the town which I love the most, Brussels. I see the marvel of my favourite painters, the impressionists. I hear prefect French when I listen to Zazie.
The French language is like a flower, it is delicate, it is fragile. One needs to approach it with care. When I first came to Brussels to study, at the age of nineteen, I remained silent for the first six months. I started to talk only when I judged that my French was perfect enough to start self-expressing. French is the sound of love, it is the sound of romantic adventures, of people who love discussing serious things, who love great food, good wine, and self-criticism.
La langue franҫaise est une langue d’amour. (French is the language of love)

I love the French language. J’ adore la langue franҫaise.