Merry Christmas!

Today is Christmas for the Orthodox Christian world, and this morning is a glimmer of peace, inside and out. It is a peace that feels both melancholy and joyous - letting both feelings coexist without disturbance. The sun peeks out from behind lighthearted clouds. Small, delicate snowflakes fall gently from the sky, lingering in the silvery opaque sunlight. Their slow movements and ample spacing remind me of floating dandelion seeds, which seem to slow time down and make me feel like I'm in a fairy tale. Now the clouds have cleared the sun's path and it softly colors the frozen world gleaming. The ambiance feels like atemporal hope - the essence of possibility behind all dynamics, silently but powerfully bearing its own mode of existence.

A picture of this morning - the snowflakes are too small and far apart for the camera to catch.

Last night I enjoyed a magical Christmas Eve. My Georgian flatmate, Eto, prepared a traditional Christmas dish of baked fillo dough folded over cheese and halved hard-boiled eggs. It was a salty, flaky dream. We shared a few thoughts and stories about the ineffable aspects of life that compel us to believe in something. Her stories reminded me of how easily I forget those very special moments in life when everything makes sense without answers. Then I prepared peanut butter cookies, because in addition to being associated with Americans, peanut butter appears to be rare on this side of the Atlantic. My roommate, Tanya, returned later from being home in Latvia for the winter holiday. It was nice to have her back. She has become a sister to me. Our similar struggles and goals help me feel the least estranged around her. I am so grateful that I have found a roommate who is also the person with whom I feel the most comfortable, and who is also a first-year Master's student in semiotics. She shared her grandmother's Russian secrets for the occasion, which involved fortune telling, ending the night with a playful exploration of the mysterious power of belief.