Rusyns

Everyone has their own sort of spiritual place in this world. A place that is often connected to our childhood and our family. And every now and then, pictures of it flash out from the memory, at different frequencies and with various intensity. They lure us into the tunnels of our inner world. And as we enter and follow the straying paths within we discover that all those remote episodes and stories of our past life have somehow transformed into the symbols and signs with new meanings, which force us to reassess what we thought we had already long and for good had forgotten, or overcome or settled, and with the ever increasing certainty we realize that our past never separated from us, and that it actually constitutes a solid part of us. Three years ago, my own tunnels deployed me in the Eastern Slovakia, in the country of my childhood. Local people, including my wider family, live there in close attachment to the rough nature and God. I return there ever since, and quite regularly. To re-discover. My auntie and her populous family, my lonesome uncle, people who are deeply pious as well as those who can be labelled outcasts. Some of them like to talk much and some are rather shy, some work hard and some just linger in their struggle for the next day. As it happens, my return was preceded by a long period of detachment; and now every trip back makes me feel ever more aware of where I come from and who I am.