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Portals of True Love

Maya Ellenson writes essays, art columns, unorthodox poetry and short stories.

When You Walk with Your Soulmate, the Whole Parking Lot Is Yours

Sandhill Cranes in Hobe Sound, Florida

Sandhill Cranes in Hobe Sound, Florida

Himalayas. Pink Mountains by Nicholas Roerich

Himalayas. Pink Mountains by Nicholas Roerich. Nicholas Roerich Museum New York.

Himalayas. Pink Mountains by Nicholas Roerich. Nicholas Roerich Museum New York.

St. Valentine Works in Mysterious Ways

Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. They’re in each other all along."

"Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love. It will not lead you astray."

Persian mystic and poet Rumi


St. Valentine works in mysterious ways. Serendipity in finding your true love, or what Carl Jung termed synchronicity, occur when our inner archetypes for soul mating are fully and consciously activated.

That been said, Lina loved art not just for its visual content but the depth, pulsing beneath its discourse. One of her favorite painters was Nicholas Roerich for both artistic traits and the teaching of Agni Yoga it epitomized.

Sparked by the Roerichs – Nicholas and his wife Helena, Agni Yoga means “becoming one with the Divine Fire”. She could spend hours in Nicholas Roerich's Museum in Moscow, contemplating his vertical, sublime spectacles. His Himalayan landscapes do transport you to the fiery realm of Shambhala and make you soar above the purple-blue mountaintops. Expanded, she felt it was becoming too much of her for. . . not share with the world what was happening inside her, or perhaps with that special someone they call soulmate.

Beautiful, in her mid thirties, one day she felt somehow wasted. Yes, she had a good circle of friends who sincerely admired her deep and interesting personality. A successful blogger and freelancer, Lina traveled all over the world, making friends everywhere she stayed. However, her inner voice kept whispering: It takes a couple to create something really big. Look what Nicholas and Helena Roerich accomplished together.

"The Demon Seated" by Mikhail Vrubel

Mikhail Vrubel's painting, "The Demon Seated" at The State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow, Russia

Mikhail Vrubel's painting, "The Demon Seated" at The State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow, Russia

Painting Opens a Portal to Serendipity

Lina also deeply loved Mikhail Vrubel and his Demon series, especially “The Demon Seated” (1890). Demon, spilling over the canvas, being trapped in three-dimensional reality and his well-built, muscular body. In this painting, colors turn into multi-faceted crystals, radiating a mystical glow as the sunset casts its purples to spread a rich palette of spellbinding hues.

Russian romanticist, Mikhail Lermontov, wrote his epic poem, "The Demon" in 1839, where the main character is portrayed in elusive mid-tones: “He resembled a lucid dusk. Neither day, or night, neither dark or light”, pronounced the poet. Half a century later Vrubel will metamorphose Lermontov's Demon into his enchanting colors.

In Greek, Demon means Spirit. In his painting, Vrubel unveils the very alchemy of the Spirit’s descent into matter. Mosaic texture of the piece conveys stunning effect: colors being sculpted, crystallized and materialized right in front of our eyes.

Constantine was also profoundly fond of Vrubel’s art. He liked to carry a pocket edition of Lermontov’s poem he enjoyed to read over and over as he observed how words morphed into colors.

That February night the snow was falling smoothly, as if performing its slow motion dance to some magical rhythm. Meandering the old streets of Moscow in the dusk was Lina's way to meditate. She made her walk a bit longer. It was too calm and beautiful for being anywhere inside.

Surprisingly, that very night always jam-packed Tretyakov Gallery was almost empty. Left alone with my Demon . . . or . . . it’s someone else here. Lina’s heart sank as she approached the painting. At this moment, she could tell with cast-iron certainty that something amazing was about to happen.

Slowly approaching footsteps, accentuated by total silence around, echoed in her ears like shamanistic drumbeat. Are they reaching from beneath the Earth? His words falling gently, just like the silky snow outside: “It’s kind of chilly inside. Why don’t we walk to the coffee shop across the street. We could talk about Vrubel and other stuff, if you feel like”. She turned around and smiled. “Why not?”

As Constantine and Lina left together, she knew, without looking back, that her Demon was also smiling.

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