Ruined!!!

The consort battleship,
a machine of power, authority, terror.
It knows every inch of the sea, every yard of land
littering the globe.

It knows every plane,
every country,
every ship,
every bomb,
every target,
every threat.
It knows them
all.

It sails on a path, straight and steady.
Never falters.
Never diverts.
At a steady spead,
It sails.

On towards its
target.
Once there, it
Ruins,
Demolishes,
Annihilates.
It leaves nothing.

It's efficient,
quick,
accurate,
Perfect.

Then comes a
Storm.
Something different,
Alien. The battleship doesn't know
what it is,
what to do.

The Thunder,
the Lightening,
the Rain,
the Hail.

They BOOM,
They FLASH,
They SOAK,
They SMASH,
the battleship.

It's helpless.

They engulf the battleship,
sourround it,
hide it,
blanket it.

The battleship fails.
It's stripped,
Battered,
Bruised,
Ruined.

The storm,
It surprised,
It rocked the battleship.
It was quick,
efficient,
accurate,
Perfect.

The consort battleship.
It sails on a path, straight and steady.
Engulfed in a storm,
Something new,
Something Dangerous.

It's exposed,
naked,
bare.
No longer a battleship...
..not even a ship.

For W. Abdul, the first storm to expose me. For all we had and could have again.

c. John Apotsis 2008

A Curse For Life Pt.6: Crowns (Continued)

The news spread, "like wild- fire", as the saying goes. It spread to the farthest reaches of the Empire, and then leaked through to the other European nations. Interest was not as big, but there were those whose interest was piqued. Royalty across Europe were informed of the event. Plans were made for the influx of nobility and Royalty. Imperial Houses, Castles, and Palaces were maintianed in impecable states. The children remained out of the way of the rushing and fussing attendants. Alexander and Maria did not get to see them very often in the time that lapsed between the announcement of their coronation, and the actual event itself.

Nikolas was angered. These were his parents, and they couldn't see him, or speak to him for five minutes without being disturbed. One incident angered Nikolas so much he snapped at an attendant and was soon- after reprimanded by the Patriarch. Nikolas had walked to his father's office wishing to speak to him for five minutes. Just to see how he was. The Patriarch was also in there, and this made things better. The three of them could talk and laugh. It had felt like eons since they'd done this. No sooner had Nikolas closed the door, but a weak knock came from the other side. Nikolas, eyes ablaze with anger opened it. In the doorway stood an attendant. He waited for the Tsarevitch to acknowledge him and allow him passage into the office. Nikolas stood in front and stared the attendand down.

"Speak." he said simply. The attendant look taken aback. He looked over the Tsarevitch's shoulder to the Tsar and gave the message. The Tsar was being asked to check plans for the security and routes that would be taken by the Imperial procession after the Tsar's coronation.
"AGAIN!" shouted the voice in Nikolas' head.
"AGAIN ONE OF YOU FOOLS TAKES MY FATHER AWAY FROM ME!" Nikolas couldn't stand the site of the attendant any more. Without a bow or a look towards his Tsar, he stormed out of his fathers office, and made no attempt to avoid flashing a look of rage at the attendant. The attendant was shocked and scared. Alexander was horrified, he didn't know what happend. The Patriarch had noticed the look of rage in Nikolas' eyes. He figured why, but didn't let his assumption grow. He walked out after the angered adolescent straight after.

"Holiness please, talk to him. That behaviour was unacceptable." Begged Alexander before departing with the still frightened attendant. The Patriarch went all over the Palace looking for the Tsarevitch. He found him nowhere. It was only when George almost ran head- long into him, playing a war game with Alexander and Michael, that the Patriarch had any idea where the angered adolescent Tsarevitch may be.

"Careful George!" exclaimed the Patriarch, catching the Tsarevitch before he fell.
"What are you doing running through the halls of the Palace hmm?" Inquired the Patriarch, smiling slightly as the young Tsarevitch brandished his play sword.
"Playing a war game with Alexander and Michael." Stated the Tsarevitch simply, smiling back at the Patriarch.
"You know you shouldn't be running through the Palace. What if you have an accident?" The Patriarch didn't like insulting the intelligence of the children and being a hyporcite. He didn't like feeding them the sanctimonious clap- trap about behaving "Princely", however, living in a Royal Family often means your hands are tied.
George was crest- fallen. "I know," he said dejectedly.
Tikhon changed the subject. Tactfully trying to make up for his blunder of being "an adult".
"What war are you all acting out?" he asked. George was distracted and his childish face lit up like the sun.
"Alexander and I are Generals of the Imperial Army of Ekaterina II, the Great Empress of Russia. We are out to destroy Yemelyan Ivanovich Pugachov, the Cossack serf who is causing a riot in Moscow." The young boy brandished his sword again. Tikhon smiled.
"But you said Michael was playing too, what is Michael playing? Another General?" Tikhon feared the answer. Again he was assuming, this time he let the assumption grow.
"He's playing Pugachov." George laughed, and Tikhon looked worried.
"That's not fair!" he added in defence of the young Michael. George laughed, almost evily.
"He's only little."
"Well, Alexander is to good a sword- fighter for Michael and i, and that rules out me playing Pugachov because Alexander would kill me anyway, so that left Michael to play pugachov, and he didn't say no, he was excited." George smiled sweetly at the Patriarch.
"That's because the blessed creature doesn't know he's destined to die!" finished the Patriarch. George laughed heartily again.
"Speaking of blessed creatures, George have you seen Nikolas at all?" asked the Patriarch, remembering the errand he was on.
George nodded. "He went storming out into the gardens just a few moments before i almost landed at your feet." Described the Tsarevitch. The Patriarch hoped that Nikolas was still out in the gardens. Although, he hadn't wasted to much time talking to George, so he still held hope. Just then Michael came padding around the corner, also brandishing a sword. He stopped dead in the middle of the hall when he spotted George. Alexander came bounding around the corner soon- after.
"En Garde!" Called Alexander from behind Michael, to far to engage Michael. George moved forward waiting to lunge. Michael moved to George's left, trying to find enough room to make an escape. Tikhon watched the two size each other up. He smiled, but quickly remembered he had to leave. He walked briskly towards Michael and picked him up in his arms. Taking the sword from him too.
"God's grace shines over Pugachov today. He escapes and flees Russia, awaiting another day to battle the Generals of Ekaterina II." With a swipe of the sword he disarmed Alexander and held the sword at the Tsarevitch's throat. Alexander grinned.
"That's cheating, and he'll loose anyway!" he stated cheekily.
Tikhon pressed the sword a bit harder, smiling back.
"For now he wins! Yield!" he said firmly.
Alexander raised his arms in defeat. "I yield!" he said.
Tikhon turned back to face George, still holding Michael, who was smiling brightly. George groaned and threw down his sword, conceding the defeat.
"You'll pay for this Pugachov!" he exclaimed dramatically. Michael responded by shutting his eyes tightly and poking his tongue out. Then he threw his arms around the Patriarch's neck, and kissed his cheek.
"Thank you" he said, before bounding off with his brothers, all three laughing heartily.

The Patriarch watched the three run off happily. In that instant he wondered what it would have been like to have children of his own. Things, definitely would have been different. He turned away and headed towards the gardens.
"However," he thought to himself
"I'm now luckier than any father i know. I not only have the children of my family to call my own, i have an entire nation of people, adults and children alike, to call my children. For that i would exchange every opportunity to have my own."
His devotion and committment reaffirmed, to himself, and his mind set on being greatful for that which the Lord had given him; Tikhon made his way into the gardens to console the Tsarevitch Nikolas, whom he was still to locate and hear from.

c. John Apotsis 2008- 2009

To Long Away

To my readers, (If i have any that is!..haha)

I apologise for having not posted any further on the story that you may all be wanting to read more of. I have been caught up with other duties. To be fair, it would not do me any justice to solely focus on just one thing, and ignore the fact that i owe it to myself to try and succeed in the other noble pursuites of life. Thus, i apologise for my absence, and promise you that i shall post more on the story of Maria, the Grand Duchess. Although, it shall be interesting, i must admit, to see how many of you will last for the remainder of the time i shall be away. How many of you shall be able to withstand the suspense?? :P

I guess we shall have to wait and see,
Untill then, however,
Yours Sincerely,
IOANNIS

Human Psychology

The other day, on myspace, i was invited by a University PhD student to undergo a survey for his PhD thesis. It was random, but i was interested. J.R is studying Psychology at University in Melbourne, and his thesis is on the Psychological impact/s blogging can have on users, socially and personally. Being a dedicated, and committed, blogger myself i got slightly worried, and curious.

I undertook the online survey, however, and coming out of it, it's interesting to note how much you realise. One thing i learnt undergoing the survey was: An impact of online blogging is that often the blogger begins to use the blog as a personal diary, of sorts. Thus, they become vulnerable, in a way, as they are "putting out there" their personal emotions and experiances. This, in turn, could be the effect of social isolation, or could cause someone to socially recede.

It was at this point of the survey that i got scared, and worried, and i think for fair enough reasons too! Although, i couldn't help but think all through the survey: "The main reason i begun a blog in the first plac was to express myself in a creative way, and to improve on my writing skills". This is true. However, i will not deny that there are articles on my blog which are personal, and yes, in a way, depending on how you percieve them, they could be considered diary entries too. I will not deny that sometimes i have used my blog to vent anger or express an opinion. Countering this, however, i reiterate: The main reason i begun my blog was to creatively express myself, and improve on my writing skills. Having the ability to express myself and my feelings and thoughts and emotions, in a, seemingly, diary format, to me, developed as i begun to feel more comfortable with the creative expression i was developing.

Now i'm no psychologist. I'm sure, however, if J.R. were to read this he would probably be able to come out and say something like: "John you're in denial" or "John i understand you", (hahaha). However, being as truthful as i could possibly be, not only for myself, but for the benefit of J.R in his research for his PhD, this is a crucial point that i could not over- look. A development of my creative expression and style was the main instigating purpose for me beginning a blog. As i've said before: I think as i developed the creative voice, and style, that is unique to me, i begun to feel more confident about blogging about more personal issues and experiances.

I have kept a written diary and journal, and still do actually. One thing i notice, is that they way i write in my journal is much more different to the style of voice i use when blogging. I think this is because i imagine an audience, when i'm blogging, thus, i write in an almost conversational and informal voice, whilst maintianing some wit and sophistocation. In fact, sometimes i imagine myself as a soft- news journalist writing for a publication, of which i am an acclaimed journalist for. Writing for my journal, however, i am only writing to myself. Hence, the style of voice is more intimate, it lacks the imaginitive audience, and thus, it possess more of the "inner human" of me, emotionally, psychologically, and characteristically.

I don't exactly know, but i was scared doing the survey, and about some of the answers i gave. I was honest with myself, and i think that's apart of the reason i'm slightly insecure. Answering questions about oneself you come to realise certain things about yourself you may not have realised before. Sometimes these can be good things, but what if they're not? Is it only human nature not to like answering questions you know you yourself don't like the answer to, but know the answer to be true? (confused? i think i confused myself slightly there too :P )

Do i use my blog to vent anger, express opinions, document certain events in an almost diary format, document experainces i've had, and express myself in a creative voice? Yes. I do. However, i firmly stick by the fact that i know the venting, the expression of opinion/s, and the documentation of experiances and events, came after i developed my creative voice and style. Once i became comfortable with the style i was going to use, and the language, i felt like there was more i was able to give. Becoming comfortable with my "readers", or the fact that i was advertising my feelings and emotions, in a way, i felt as though there was more of a connection i could make.

You could call me insane, and you'd probably be right in doing so. The bottom line, i think is: I have friends, both online, and face- to- face. I can turn to friends in either context and have the same level of support. There is, however, a distinction that must be made. Having friends i can see, is a different experiance to having friends i can't see, physically, and can only speak to via IM messaging or MSN. However, i do not, and i hope you all agree, think that i am socially isolated. I hope that i am not overly shy to approach and make new friends. Even if i was, i don't think it would stand for much because, to me, all that stands out is the fantastic group of friends i have, both online and face- to- face...

...Enough said! :)

Scare Tactics!

For those of you who know me, my eccentricities, and "kookiness", become something of a second nature to you after a while. However, if i have moments when i never cease to scare, or surprise, you by my eccentric, or kooky, behaviour, then believe me; You have no idea how badly i can scare myself.

Oh yes! you heard correctly, "I can scare myself". For the sake of being normal, or at least retaining a claim to normality in some way, shape or form, i hope some of you have had at least one experiance where you've scared yourselves. If not, then i feel like a total fool, very much so.

The other morning, after blogging, i decided to sleep for two hours before getting up for Uni. This was at 4:30am. It was 5am when i woke up to turn over. Being rather dark, still, my cross looked like a black shadow, and in the form of some creepy- crawly. I shit myself. I jumped back. Obviously, the damn thing attached to my neck moved with me. I was still under the impression it was an insect. So i begun to swat at it. After about five minutes of complete shock i picked up my phone and used the light to check my bed. It was only then, half awake and still scared- shitless, that i realised the stupid insect was in fact my cross.

I vowed to never sleep with the damn thing on AGAIN. Lying down, and calming my still racing heart i begun to see the absurdity of the whole ordeal. I begun to laugh. I literally had to cover my mouth with my pillow to drown out the sound, i feared i was laughing that hard. Of course, i couldn't get to sleep again after that. However, the memory, playing over and over again, kept me smiling till i was able to watch sun rise.

For those, again, who know me, and for those who don't, sun rise and sun set are my favourite parts of the day. It was at a time like this i felt profoundly blessed. There i was, lying in my bed, watching the sun rise, beginning a new day, and i had already begun mine in perhaps the most hilarious ways possible. Not to mention, the most embarrassing way possible.!

To feel so happy, and then to be so blessed as to see the sun rise, for me, provides me with something of an incentive to keep living. It's at times like these, being happy and seeing the sun rise, that i feel as though i am laying my eyes on the very first sun rise in the history of the world. I feel that special, that happy, that elated. It's times like these i have to look back on and remind myself there are plenty more times like it to come. Always, i look forward to the next kooky thing i will do. It's me! To some i'm just weird. That's cool. To others i'm eccentric; Lovely. To others i'm unique; Getting there. To others i'm just John; there we go.! That's what i like. All the things i do, whether good, bad, stupid, funny, or down right strange, are things i do because it's what i do. The choices i make, and the effects they have; whether that be: funny, upsetting, good or bad, have these affects, and more, because i am precisely who i am, and will make choices based on the way i choose to present my being.

So there you go! I scared myself shitless, and managed to have a good day too :) What else could i ask for? Of course, i could say: "Well there is just one thing...!", however, these moments only come once every blue- moon. Hence, i want this to last. I'm glad things turned out the way they did. If they hadn't happend such as they had, then this article would not have been published, and you, most likely, wouldn't be laughing, or shaking your head bewilderedely at the scree as you read, with a smile upon your face thinking: "What a nutter!".

A Curse For Life Pt.6: Crowns (Continued)

Maria and Alexander were glad to have Stephanje back in their lives, physically. He was always a great help to them, a comfort. Having him during easter made them feel as they'd always had, happy and special to have their cousin with them. Whilst Stephanje was the Patriarch of the Russian Orthodox Church, he was still "their" Stephanje. He always would be.

Throughout the week Stephanje helped Maria look after the children, he kept the children pre- occupied while Maria and Alexander took moments to be with each other, and he entertained them all during the evening with his story- telling. Stephanje was, by far, a most excellant story- teller. The best the Imperial family knew, to be honest, in fact. Even as a Patriarch, his imagination was wild and equal to that of a child's. It was something Alexander loved about his cousin. The way he was able to use his imagination, even when they were growing up together, yet never have it destroyed by ideas and concepts of "duty", and "behaving properly". When Alexander looked at Nikolas he saw the exact same thing happening to him too. The poor boy had a future already laid out ahead of him, he needed to learn, from now, what that meant, he had no imagination. The boy was fascinated by the stories, and was capable to doing so himself, but he rarely did. It wasn't "proper" of a Tsarevitch who would one day grow up to be the Tsar of Russia.

Maria fell more and more in love with Stephanje. He would always be her Stephanje. He'd stolen her heart the first time they danced on the floor at her father's Palace. However, he had her heart in a way Alexander didn't. Alexander was her husband, he would be loved for being her husband and father of her children. Stephanje, however, was her crush. She would love him and adore him as something like a treasure. A treasure she, and only she knew about and would keep to herself.

As Easter Sunday approached the Patriarch was packed and left from them again. He returned to Moscow and immediately sent a letter telling of his journey and how he had arrived. By monday Stephanje was back at Anichkov Palace and enjoying the time he had to relax. He now had time to spend with the family, without worrying about ecclesiastical issues. However, there was one other event that he now had to look forward to. It was the same event that Alexander had been caught up organising since his father's passing. Russia was still without a crowned Tsar. Alexander was next in line. Thus, he had been caught up preparing for the event, making sure all issues were addressed.

Alexander had now reached the stage of the planning process where he could go no further. Now it was time to put the rest onto the Church, and by extension, the Patriarch. Knowing his cousin, and having seen the influence the previous Patriarch had on him, Alexander decided to do everything the way Stephanje would want, indeed, expect. This didn't bother Alexander at all. Tradition was something to be followed, particularly by the Imperial family, whose traditions had been set long ago. Alexander approached his cousing informally on the issue. The Patriarch was not at all bothered. He sat down and begun to finalise the planning immediately and had all the paperwork to Alexander the following day.

After the forty day period following Easter, Anichkov Palace came alive. The guards changed ceremoniously, the Imperial Standard was hoisted to full- flight upon the Palaces flag- pole, and a crowd begun to gather. The elderly knew the signs. The adolescents couldn't believe what they were going to experiance, and the young were fascinated. At the Winter Palace similar events took place. At the Kremlin Palace the events took place also. It was only on a glorious Wednesday morning at eight- thirty in the morning, in Moscow, at the Katherine Palace, when the guards and Imperial trumpeteers drew the attention of almost all the Muscovites. An Imperial attendant, upon a stallion, rode towards the gates of the Palace and stopped ten metres short. The gates were closed but looked as if they'd burst because of all the citizens pressing against them.
"Muscovites, Citizens, Russians! The Imperial standard flies. In two weeks the Coronation of the new Tsar, Alexander II will take place at the Dormition Cathedral in the Kremlin. Long Live Russia, Long Live the Tsar!"
With that the horse spun around and rode back towards the Palace. The citizens were all in a buzz. The excitement grew. A Tsar was to be coronated. Along with this Tsar, however, Russias gem, the treasure they all loved, Maria, was to be their new Tsarina.

c. John Apotsis 2008

A Curese For Life Pt.6: Crowns (Continued)

The week flew passed, or so it seemed. During the week that followed Tikhon's enthronement thousands flocked to Moscow to catch a glimpse of their new Patriarch, flanked by his two new secretaries. They were quite the trinity of youth. A formidable team you could say. It didn't take long for the youth of Russia to fall in love with Tikhon, Pantalaemon and Anastasius.

During that week Tikhon met more people than he could ever remember, and was invited to more parties in his honour than ever before. He attended them greatfully, however, he tried his best not to offend by leaving early. Had he not been the Patriarch this would have been considered slightly rude. Although, he could easily be forgiven. The speeches were just as many. Whilst the speeches were full of thanks and gratitude, they did, however, narrate the changes that Tikhon and his clergy would make to the Church of Russia. As much as he could, Tikhon spoke of a church free from politics. He spoke of instilling in all a respect for the church, that would set an example for the rest of the world. Russia was in raptures. Their Patriarch was going to put them on the religious map.

Of all the things that Tikhon said that week, none recieved a response like the one he recieved on the thursday morning when he stood outside of Saint Basil's Basilica and addressed a crowd of young Orthodox christians.
"God created you all. You are his children. Do not turn away from him. You do yourselves no good by doing so. Come to church. Go to confession. Take Holy Communion. Do it for yourselves. God loves you, i love you, as does the rest of the clergy. To proove to you, that i do, that we do; My children, I will go with you, and change for you! So long as you Do Not Stop Coming To Church. I will go with you and change for you!"

The youth errupted into cheers and applause. "We Love Tikhon" was all they chanted. Adolescents, teenagers, young adults, and even those in their early twenties; They all cheered hard for the man who said he'd "Go with them".

That sunday marked the beginning of Holy week. Easter had come. It would be the first Holy Easter celebrated by the new Patriarch, Tikhon. Palm Sunday was celebrated by the Patriarch in Saint Petersburg Cathedral. Bishops Pantalaemon and Anastasius were present too. In the congregation, the Imperial family watched the Patriarch they loved. They had all grown up. The children had gotten older. As to Alexander and Maria, they had grown older too, but they remained ever in love with Tikhon, and he with them.

It had been a while since Tikhon had visited the family he loved so much, his family. Hence, he went to Anichkov Palace after the liturgy. He remained there for the day. He decided he would celebrate his first Holy week at his old Cathedral, before returning to Moscow for Easter. Next year, God willing he still be alive, he would celebrate his entire easter at the Cathedral.

He missed the family terribly, though it had only been, in all, a month, at maximum, that he'd been away from them. There was so much to talk about. It was late by the time the Patriarch returned to his quarters at the Episcopal Palace in Saint Petersburg, and he stayed up all night, chanting his heart out, in the Cathedral. In the morning he prepared for another day of liturgising for the Holy Monday Vespers. As Holy Easter drew closer and closer the crowds attending steadily grew larger and larger. It was interesting to Tikhon, just how many people really only attended church for the major events. He didn't dwell on the thought. At least his family attended every sunday. More rewarding, however, was the presence of young people who had strayed from the church. Nothing was more rewarding for Tikhon than to see the lost sheep of God's flock, which he was looking after, return.

c. John Apotsis 2008- 2009

A Curse For Life Pt.6: Crowns

Life continued rather normaly after the baptism of Olga. The Bishop visited whenever he could, and the family was always over- joyed to see him. As the year rolled on Bishop Stephanje brought more and more news of the ailing Patriarch. For a while, Bishop Stephanje didn't visit as he took on some of the responsibilities of the Patriarch, which required him to travel to other cities in the country. He didn't stop writing to the family, however, and they never stopped feeling as though he was there with them.

By Christmas it was assured the Patriarch was dying. However, it was known that for the time- being he still had life in him. Thus, he travelled around the nation to all the major parishes in all the diocese of Russia. Being left some work to take care of, Bishop Stephanje remained in Saint Petersburg. However, he travelled to Moscow on the occasion to take care of work for the Patriarch there as well. Being busy as he was, Bishop Stephanje didn't notice the year come to a close.

Christmas arrived. With it, the times slowed, seemingly, to a grinding halt. All the running stopped, and it seemed that the Bishop actually had a head. The children made fun of him, thus, saying he'd been running around like a chicken without its head. He laughed with them and made fun of them when they were told to mind their manners by Alexander.
"You're just as bad as them!" Alexander would say exasperatedly. Bishop Stephanje would smile broadly. He had a particular way of smiling, which Xenia, when she was old enough, told him she loved very much. The Bishop was flattered and told her such.
"My heart is yours Xenia. You've stolen it with words sweet enough to match cupids arrows." Little Xenia was very proud of herself afterwards.

The Bishop spent more and more time at Anichkov Palace as the New Year approached. Afterwards, however, the church calendar was in preparation for Easter. Thus, Bishop Stephanje was, once again, on the move. The Patriarch, opting to stay in Moscow, was being taken care of his third bishop. This allowed Bishop Stephanje time to focus mainly on liturgising and resting. However, whilst his body rested, his mind never stopped thinking and praying for his Patriarch. The children, in love with the Bishop, in their innocence, asked if they could pray for the old Patriarch too. The gesture was sweet, and the Bishop didn't stop the children. Indeed, it was his job to encourage them to be as christian as possible. Xenia, however, he was told, was the most diligent. She never went to sleep, or begun her day, unless she'd said a small prayer for her Bishop Stephanje, or the Patriarch.

It was before Easter begun, however, that the Bishop Stephanje was summoned to the bedside of the bed- ridden Patriarch to administer the last rite. The family was summoned to Moscow as well. Four hours after administering the prayers of the last rite the Patriarch rested in the Lord. It was as the Imperial family was entering the Kremlin Palace that they heard the bells of the Patriarchal Palace announcing the passing of the Holy Father. They all stopped, standing there, on the steps to the Katherine Palace, in the winter cold. They bowed their heads in respect and made the sign of the cross on themselves.

For the next forty days Bishop Stephanje, and indeed, all Russia, was in mourning. Black was the colour everywhere. Euologies were given in every church in every village in every city all around the country. The Imperial family, out of respect, wore black arm- bands, the women never left without wearing a veil. Xenia, seeing the distress of her Bishop, was equally just as distressed. With NIkolas, Alexander and George by her all the time, however, little Xenia was kept pre- occupied. It was Bishop Stephanje, however, who continued to stress. Now Russia was without a Tsar, and without a Patriarch.

A month out from Easter Russia's clergy was summoned to Moscow. They all gathered at the Patriarchal Palace. Day after day for a whole week the gates were locked. Crowds gathered outside. It was the equivalent to the election of a Pope for Rome. The country was at a stand- still. All watched and waited for the curtains to part and for the doors of the top balcony to open, whereupon, the newly elected Patriarch would greet the crowd. On monday the news was announced by an attendant of the Palace. He stood in the centre of the courtyard, an equal distance from the doors to the Palace, and the gates. There was a hush over the crowd as all strained to listen.
"After the first day of voting the news is such: there are five distinct candidates. The Holy Synnod of the Patriarchate of Russia is numbered at 30 members. The five candidates have a number of votes which clearly identify them as the only five candidates up for election from the Holy Synnod. The candidates are: The Bishop Stephanje, secretary to the late Patriarch, and Bishop of Saint Petersburg; 8 votes. The Bishop Anastasius, second secretary to the late Patriarch, and Bishop ot Ykaterinburg; 7 votes. The Bishop Pantalaemon, third secretary to the late Patriarch, and Bishop of Omsk; 7 votes. The Bishop Victor of Novosibirsk; 4 votes, and the Bishop Alexei of Novgorod; 4 votes. This concludes the first round of preliminary voting." With that final message left to comfor the people in some way, the attendant turned on his heel and marched back into the Palace.

The Bishop Stephanje was safe. He was, so far, the sole candidate sure of a spot in the running for the Patriarchal position. Votes would now be cast to break the ties that had occured. Tuesdays votes were announced at the end of the day.
"The second day of voting has concluded and the votes are thus: The Bishop Anastasius; 9 votes. The Bishop Alexei; 7 votes. The Bishop Pantalaemon; 8 votes,and the Bishop Victor; 6 votes. At the end of the second day the cadidates for the Patriarchate of Russia are: The Bishop Stephanje of Saint Petersburg, the Bishop Anastasius of Ykaterinburg and the Bishop Pantalaemon of Omsk. The second round of preliminary voting is over, and now begins the voting for the Patriarch." Just as soon as the last syllable had left his lips, the attendant was gone again.

The Bishop Stephanje never stopped praying. He prayed so much, he was barely seen at all. He barely spoke to any of his fellow bishops, or even ate. He spent his time sitting in the chapel of the Palace. Just sitting, not really doing anything, just sitting. At the end of the second day he was nervous. He knelt before an icon of Saint Nektarius, a Greek saint, and his favourite, and prayed for guidance. It was when he was sitting observing the picture that he had the urge to chant. His heart longed for it. He opened his mouth and begun to chant.
"O virgin pure, immaculate
O lady Theotokos.
O rejoice, O bride unwedded.

O virgin mother, Queen of all
and fleece which is all dewy.
O rejoice, O bride unwedded.

More radiant than the rays of sun,
and higher than the heavens
O rejoice, O bride unwedded.

Delight of virgin choruses,
Superior to angels.
O rejoice, O bride unwedded."

His voice echoed softly throughout the chapel. His heart was beating fast, but the Bishop continued to chant. He was chanting to the heavens from the heart. He was releasing his stress, his angst, his worry onto the Lord above. He was praying from the heart. The sound was sweet, pure, angelic. He only stopped because he noticed that he'd drawn a crowd.

The Bishops Pantalaemon and Anastasius were walking towards the gardens together, talking, when they'd heard the sweet sound coming from the chapel. They stopped to listen, and knowing who it was, couldn't resist entering. They listened to him from the second verse onwards. It was the first time they were hearing such a sweet sound from their fellow bishop. It drew them both to tears of joy; they were happy for some reason. Happy to be alive, happy to have been elected for this life, happy to be listening and praising God. At the same time they were upset and distressed. They had lost their Patriarch, they were without a guide...they were alone. They stared at each other. Slowly the came together. They were all about the same age. Bishop Pantalaemon was just a year older than Bishop Anastasius and Bishop Stephanje. They didn't say anything, just watched each other for a while. Then as one, they all begun from where Bishop Stephanje had left off. The sound is indescribable. If ever you are blessed to hear such a trinity chant: with love, with joy, with sadness, and all from the heart, towards the Lord they believe in, you will know the awesome feeling, which will take you to the heavens itself.

It only took up to thursday for the Holy Synnod to decide who its Patriarch was. In fact, thursdays vote was considered a waste of time by many, as wednesdays voting ended with one candidate holding five votes over the second and ten over the third. However, others thought that another vote would be best, just to be safe. It was the older members who wanted the re- vote on thursday, and it was requested, mainly because these elderly members were afraid of the fact that their new Patriarch was to be one of three very young members. These new and young additions meant change. It was this "change", and what it implied for them, and for the Church or Russia, that they feared so much. The re- vote occured, however, surprisingly, though, the result turned out exactly the same. Bishop Stephanje; 15 votes. Bishop Pantalaemon; 10 votes, and Bishop Anastasius; 5 votes.

Friday morning, at five- thirty in the morning, with the crowd still outside, as though it had never left, the bells of the Patriarchal Palace, all 23 of them, rung joyously. A message had been sent to all the major cities in Russia, at five- thirty across the country, the bells of each major Church and Cathedral rung joyously. The new Patriarch had been elected by the grace and love of God. Saint Petersburg Cathedral's bells rung in the Patriarchal pattern. The citizens of Saint Petersburg were all woken from sleep. Some jumped, some woke slowly. In the end they all couldn't believe their ears. Their own, their very own Bishop Stephanje had been chosen as Patriarch. It was a sight never seen before. Saint Petersburg was alive and wide awake. Children, young adolescents, parents and adults; they all ran out onto the streets cheering their Stephanje on. They ran to the Cathedral, the gates were open and the Cathedral doors open as well. They solemnly entered and lit candles of prayer and thanks to God for electing and choosing their Bishop, as his Patriarch of Russia.

All of Russia knew that she was now with a religious leader again. New borns across the nation were given the name Stephanje, others chose not to give their new- borns a name, until the newly elected Patriarch was enthroned, in which case he would take up another name. Thus, some children were named Stephanje, others would be named after the Patriarch, whatever name he chose. That sunday, in Saint Basil's Basilica, in Moscow's Red Square, Bishop Stephanje was enthroned and crowned the new Patriarch of Moscow and all Russia, by the Grace of God. Standing before the congregation, and before the entire country, the Bishop Stephanje took up the name Tikhon. Thus, he stepped up the three steps, and stood on the Patriarchal Throne; Tikhon, By the Grace of God, newly elected Archbishop of Moscow and Patriarch of the Holy Orthodox Church of Russia and the Ukraine.

Tikhon was vested in royal purple vestments. The entire ensemble was made out of purple velvet and was inlaid with gold threaded designs of the ecclesiastical two- headed eagle and crosses. His Patriarchal mitre was also inlaid with purple velvet and icons of the four gospel writers. On the front, and in the centre was a gold design of the Russian- style cross. Three crosses were presented to Tikhon, who took them one by one, said the prayer he was supposed to say before wearing it, then placed it over his head. One was a simple golden piece, with rubies which were a deep red they almost looked purple when the sun reflected off them at different angles. The other was a crucifix of Jesus, however, the image was of Jesus at his ascension into heaven. The other was a like a single- pieced locket, and it had an icon of the Virgin Mary inside, protected by a piece of glass.

Once on the Throne he summoned the Bishop Pantalaemon and requested the Bishop, humbly, to be his second, and secretary. The Bishop Pantalaemon, with- holding tears, accepted the offer. Then Tikhon summoned the Bishop Anastasius and asked him to be his third, and second secretary. The Bishop accepted the offer. To Pantalaemon, Tikhon presented a new mitre and named him the Metropolitain of Saint Petersburg. To Anastasius, he presented three new Crucifixes and named him the Arch- priest of Saint Petersburg. This change of positions represented the change of "power", so to speak. Moscow, being the first city, or the city of the Patriarch, as Rome was the city of the Pope, so to, did the other cities have a heirarchy. Naturally, Saint Petersburg was the city of the Patriarch, as he came from it, so naturally, it became the post of his second. Hence, the city of the second, became the post of the third.

c. John Apotsis 2008- 2009

A Curse For Life Pt.5: Criss- Crossing Death and Life (Continued)

Olga's baptism was the talk of Russia. The Grand Duchess not only had her wish granted, but she was now blessed with another girl. Olga was baptised where it had now become tradition, in the Saint Petersburg Cathedral. The bells struck three times in succession after the appearance of Maria and Alexander holding the baptised Olga. Alexander and Maria had no easy task choosing who would be the prime god- parent. In the end they decided to keep the decision closed to immeadiate family only. This, in itself, caused a stir among the extended families of Royals, who were expecting to be chosen. Eventually, George I of Greece, Maria's younger brother, was elected by the couple.

Bishop Stephanje conducted the service. As always, it was something different, despite the fact that it had now happend five times. Bishop Stephanje had this...thing about him. He made the "same" seem different. It was just this ability he seemed to have; a way he did things that consistently captured the attention of the congregation. He didn't do things differently, it was just the way he conducted the services. They were different without the Bishop having to do anything differently. The bottom line is: the service was viewed by all as it always was. To Alexander, Maria, Nikolas, Alexander and George, however, It was something completely different, almost angelic. Xenia may have found it so too, but she was still a little to young to understand.

The reception went well too. Bishop Stephanje was invited to accompany the family, and grace all with his presence. He obliged, blessed the food, but left before the dessert was served. Maria and Alexander were caught up slightly to much, so his departure so early didn't worry them as much as it would have usually. Nikolas, Alexander, and George, on the other hand, were upset. They saw the Bishop out of the Palace and waited on the top of the steps till his carriage was far out of sight. Before leaving, however, the Bishop gently reminded the guards to take the children back inside, and to see them to their quarters. Knowing that Nikolas and Alexander were mischievous, he told the guard that for the night he could disregard the orders of the Princes. Nikolas and Alexander smiled broadly, but it was Alexander who spoke.
"Would we do such a thing Your Grace?" They both smiled coyly at Bishop Stephanje. He smiled back and chuckled. He grabbed them by the ears playfully.
"Yes, that's exactly why i told the guards not to listen to you just for tonight." He kissed them goodbye, three times as was custom, then entered his carriage.

The following day Maria and Alexander called on the Bishop to recieve the baptismal certificate. With all the guests and the reception to look after Bishop Stephanje told Maria and Alexander to come by his office the following day. He would give them the certificate then. George accompanied the couple. The Bishop, being proficient in several languages, namely: Russian, English, German, French, Greek, Latin, and Serbian; he had no difficulty speaking with George at all. Being the prime god- parent, or the sponsor who stood at the font with the Bishop, George had to sign the certificate as well. The group stayed together almost all day. They walked around the Episcopal Palace, observing all the artworks and rooms. They talked, laughed, eventually sat and ate and drank. It was a wonderful day, so they had lunch out in the gardens.

The group returned to the Bishop's office after lunch. Looking around the large office George commented, jokingly, about the artwork's the Bishop had hanging.
"Such unique pieces they are too Your Grace, wherever did you get the money for them?" He said pointing to one of Xenia's drawings of her and her parents and the Bishop, as he was when he was a priest. They all broke into hearty laughter.
"Now that is a story for you, Highness! the perils i endured and the savage weather i had to pass through, just to get to the-"
"Palace of Anichkov, just around the corner!" Alexander finished the sentence pointing to the tower of the Palace from the window behind the Bishop's desk. Again they all laughed.

c. John Apotsis 2008- 2009

A Curse For Life Pt.5: Criss- Crossing Death and Life (Continued)

At the end of the liturgy, which was then co- conducted by Bishop Stephanje and the Patriarch, the congregation filed out of the Cathedral and waited. The buzz of voices, all excited, was electric. They all waited in anticipation. From iniside the Cathedral the Holy Clergy formed a line. They processed out of the Cathedral. Bishop Stephanje would walk to the Patriarchal Palace, from the Cathedral. Bishop Stephanje walked alongside the Patriarch.

Bishop Stephanje walked, still dressed in his vestments. A gold encrusted, red- velveted Mitre upon his head, and a silver episcopal staff in his right hand. He exited the Cathedral. No sooner was a foot over the threshold, then the bells of the Cathedral rung. They rung in the sequence that was for bishops and higher clergy. It was a series of three consecutive rings, a short pause, then another three, another pause then a final seven. The crowd broke into applause and cheers. Bishop Stephanje couldn't help but get emotional slightly.

"Bless them. You are now their bishop!" said the Patriarch from beside Bishop Stephanje. He needn't be told twice. Bishop Stephanje swapped the staff to his left. The crowd went wild. He raised his right hand. It shook slightly. This was the first time that he, Stephanje, once a Prince now a Bishop, was going to bless a crowd. He formed the symbol with his fingers, the IC XC, (the Byzantine- Greek lettering for the name of Jesus Christ), then made the sign of the cross in the air. The crowd bowed and crossed themselves. He faced the other side and did the same. The response was the same.

The family all followed on foot. They walked behind Bishop Stephanje, and the Patriarch. However, they were attended upon by guards from the Patriarchal Palace. As the procession made its way to the Patriarchal Palace church bells could be heard ringing, both near and far. They all rung in the episcopal sequence. For the next few weeks, Bishop Stephanje would tour around to all the parishes in the region, then he would travel to Moscow, before travelling around the country.

Once inside the gates of the Patriarchal Palace the gates were closed. All except the Holy Clergy, the family, Bishop Stephanje and the Patriarch were inside. Once inside the Palace, only the Bishop and the Patriarch proceeded instantly up the grand staircase to the top balcony. The crowd was larger from up here than it was down on the ground. Now, Bishop Stephanje saw just how many had turned up for his episcopal ordination. Thousands gathered at the gates.

Inside once more things begun to cool down. The excitement was still fresh among the family, who hadn't had the opportunity to congratulate their son, brother, cousin, nephew or uncle. It was emotional once more. Like most things in Bishop Stephanje's life, the pinalce was the acceptance and the love of the children. Nikolas was ever happy. He ran into Bishop Stephanje's arms and hugged him tightly, even with the Bishop still in his vestments. Even at the age of thirteen, Nikolas was still a child when it came to his Stephanje, as he used to say.

Soon after this the day ended. For the Bishop, however, it was only beginning again. The following day he was on his way to Moscow. News reached Anichkov Palace of how he was and the recpetion he'd recieved from the Muskovites. Soon after, the Bishop was on his way around the country. He sent letters as often as he could. At the very least, one every two days. He was happy, and safe, and enjoying the blessed experiance. Although, he couldn't wait to get back to them, his family, his life and his love. Bishop Stephanje was greatly missed in the one year he was on travel.

He didn't forget the birthdays, however, and sent his presents and his love to them all. He reminded them all that whilst God had separated them, if it was his will then it would have to be so, the least they could do for each other was to pray that he kept them safe. The children all took comfort in his words. However, it was one thing to read on paper, and another to sit and listen. Nikolas, Alexander, George and Xenia were all upset. Even little Mihail was slightly distressed at the absence of the familiar, friendly and kind face he'd seen so often.

When Bishop Stephanje did return to Saint Petersburg on the 7th of June he was instantly taken to Anichkov Palace. Maria was once again pregnant, and due to have her child any day that week. He stayed at the Palace all week to rest and see the family. They were all to happy to have him there. To hug him and feel him, to speak to him and hear him answer, to joke with him and hear him laugh. It was something that made all their hearts flutter.

On the 13th of June, thursday, Maria had a baby girl. Alexander and Maria decided to name their new baby girl Olga. After the customary fourty- day period after birth, Olga was baptised in the Cathedral of Saint Petersburg, by noneother than Bishop Stephanje. This was, by far, the biggest baptism so far. The crowd was as big as it had ever been, and the guest list, too, was bigger. As custom in many Royal, and Imperial, families; more than one god- parent was appointed. However, Bishop Stephanje was adamant, it was not Orthodox tradition for more than one god- parent to recieve the child. Thus, he would not allow more than one sponsor to stand with him at the font.

Alexander and Maria understood, however, this placed pressure on them. They had to choose one sponsor, in the fear that the rest would take offence. the Bishop exploded.
"LET THEM SAY ANYTHING AND THEY WILL KNOW WHAT FEAR REALLY IS!" he shouted from within Alexander's office. Alexander and Maria jumped. The Bishop screamed this still facing the window. This was something out of character. Bishop Stephanje was never known to have screamed before. This was, however, not the last time.

One of the sponsors came from the Royal house of Monaco. This sponsor approached Alexander and Maria before the baptism, after hearing of the decision they were to make. The sponsor was not at all happy with having a Priest tell his family, and a Royal family at that, what to do. The sponsor failed to see that this "Priest" was once a Royal too. In fact, this "Priest" was once on of a higher class, than Royalty. This "Priest" was once an Imperial Highness. From within his office the Bishop's voice was, for some reason, just as loud. The rest of the family waited outside, while the sponsor and the Bishop spoke, or rather, while the Bishop screamed.

"You were once a Royal, surely you haven't forgotten traditions of Royalty!"
"No, but i am no longer a Royal, or an Imperial, for that matter. I am a Bishop, and as such, i am telling you, you will not stand with me at the font if you are not the elected one. I WILL not have ecclesiastical theology disregarded because of some person who has no respect for the symbology and meaning in every action performed in a house of God." Retorted the Bishop.
"Some person! How dare you! You talk of respect for the house of God, but what about the respect due to the people who are ordained by God to be the heads of state?-"
"Are YOU a head of state then?" asked the Bishop sarcastically
"Don't you dare mock me!"
"I CROWN YOU! IF I DON'T BLESS THE CROWN THAT GOES ON YOUR HEAD THEN WHAT BLESSING OF GOD'S DO YOU THINK YOU HAVE!? YOU ARE NOTHING WITHOUT THE RELIGIOUS SYMBOLOGY! I GIVE YOU THAT MEANING AND ADVANTAGE TO SAY YOU, AND EVERY OTHER ROYAL, ARE ORDAINED KINGS AND QUEENS BY GOD. ME AND EVERY OTHER PATRIARCH AND BISHOP. SO DON'T YOU DARE ENTER MY OFFICE AND ATTEMPT TO TELL ME WHAT I WILL AND WILL NOT DO IN MY CHURCH! I HAVE A DUTY TO GOD, TO LOOK AFTER HIS HOUSE AND RESPECT HIS RULES, IF YOU DON'T LIKE THEM DON'T LET THE DOOR HIT YOU ON THE WAY OUT!" Alexander and Maria wanted the earth to open up and swallow them. It was the first feeling ever, to hear Bishop Stephanje yell such. They felt partially to blame. The sponsor emerged from the office, looking as though he'd just recieved the most severe wake- up call of his life.

c. John Apotsis 2008- 2009

A Curse For Life Pt.5: Criss- Crossing Death and Life (Continued)

Mihail Alexandrovich was the next child to be baptised by Father Stephanje. Xenia was 3 and had fallen into the beauty common in her family. Her mother's eyes, her father's determination, and the beauty of the Romanov's evident in her copper brown hair and sparkling blue eyes. Russia was in love again. The mother, Maria, the beautiful jewel that they had taken in and now held dear to their hearts; the children, they adored the children. Each one was never seen laughing or holding onto their mother.

Nikolas was now 10 and a handsome young man. He stood proudly next to his mother and father. The crowd would wave and he would smile and stare back. He was learning to be a Prince. Soon he would learn to be a Tsar. For now, however, Maria wanted him to grow and enjoy childhood. Alexander adored his elder brother. They were close, mischievous, but a cute pair. George was still a young boy. He stayed close to Maria. Although, he loved his father more than anything. Then there was Xenia. She was the other gem of Russia's heart. Now there was Mihail. Whilst Russia loved them all, they wondered when Maria and Alexander would care to stop.

Father Stephanje didn't stop his visits to Anichkov, and the love never stopped to flow between him and the children, between him and Alexander and Maria. He was still an Archimandrite, and still at the Cathedral of Saint Petersburg. Now as the secretary to the Patriarch, he'd had the opportunity to travel around Russia and go to various parishes and other villages. He brought back stories to tell the family. As though a master story- teller, he'd have the whole family mesmirised by the stories. The calm he brought to the Palace when he was there was something appreciated, even by the servants. He was kind, and easy to please. He knew them all by name, and would call them by their names when he needed them, or when he spoke to them. It was unconventional, they still looked at him as Prince, and also as Priest. It sometimes confused them so, that he would chuckle when they would call him "Your Highness", then instantly correct themselves to "Father".

The biggest blow to the family, and to Father Stephanje, came one fatal day on the morning of March 13. The Tsar, Alexander was returning to the Winter Palace after attending a military parade. The entire family, Alexander and Maria and the children, were there visiting. They were waiting for the Tsar to return before spending some quality time. It would be the first time in a long time. Maria adored her father- in- law dearly. He'd helped her when she first came to Russia. He taught her and loved her dearly too. It was partly because of him, that Maria loved Russia so much. Upon his return to the gates of the Palace a bomb exploded and wounded the Tsar. His carriage didn't stop till it was well within the gates, and no- one stopped running till the Tsar was safely inside the Palace. Maria instantly called for help. She had the children sent away to another wing in the Palace, and spent all the time remaining at the bed- side of her Tsar.

After a few hours Maria was seen by some servants, with tears streaming from her eyes, running towards the Holy Chapel. Tsar Alexander II had died. Russia was now without a Tsar, and would be till the funeral and other arrangements were made. Maria didn't leave the Chapel, for nothing and no one. Alexander didn't send any servants, and he himself didn't go, to attempt to remove her. Instead he did the best thing possible. He sent for Father Stephanje, post- post- haste, and informed him of the recent events. Father Stephanje came by Imperial carriage from Moscow. He was distressed and weeped at the loss of his Tsar and uncle. Then he went to the Chapel to console Maria. She fell into his arms straight away.

The entire family wore black. The Palaces were decorated with black ribbons, and the Imperial emblems were taken down from the Palaces out of respect. The Cathedral bells struck sombrely every day at three in the afternoon. They rung thus leading up to the Tsar's funeral, and for fourty days afterwards. At the lapsing of those fourty days the bells were only heard upon their usual hour, ringing in the various patterns they did.

Tsar Alexander II was buried among his other relatives who had passed on. The service was conducted by the Patriarch and the Holy Clergy of Russia. All of Moscow and Saint Petersburg citizens had turned up for the funeral. Other villagers who had travelled were also there to mourn the passing of one of their great Tsars. Now they looked to his son, Alexander III, and their new Tsarina, Maria. Maria refused to be bothered or badgered before the forty days had lapsed. Alexander, on the other hand, had no choice but to mourn his father whenever he had free time. Now he had other, bigger, responsibilities, and events to arrange and over- look.

Father Stephanje tried desperately to visit more often. The children were all slightly distressed, yet, still being rather young they didn't really understand. One thursday, after returning to his office at trhe Cathedral, and whilst looking after the Patriarch's ledger's, the Patriarch approached Father Stephanje. Father Stephanje stood up.
"Holy Father," he said moving from behind his mahogany desk to kiss the hand of his Patriarch.
"Stephanje, i wish to speak to you." Said the Patriarch softly, offering his hand and blessing.
Father Stephanje gestured to the seats. They took them facing one another.
"Stephanje, you have come a long way. To be honest with you, you've come further than most would have thought, or believed, you would. Being a Prince, i doubt this would have been easy, and i see that it hasn't been. However, you have been diligent and you have remained strong in your faith and vocation. I am pleased, and i whole- heartedly believe that God is too. So i come to you today, not to inform, but to tell you, you will be tonsured Bishop this coming sunday." The Patriarch stopped purposely to look for a reaction from Father Stephanje. Father Stephanje was taken aback. This was not the speech he was expecting to recieve. He didn't know what he was waiting for, but it wasn't this.

Father Stephanje smiled broadly, he kneeled before his Patriarch, eyes filled with tears, and thanked him. He kissed the hand of the Patriarch, stood, excused himself then went into the Cathedral to pray and praise God. He said nothing to the family. The forty days had lapsed now. They had the sunday that had passed. All the family, however, were going to attend the sunday liturgy and gather at the Winter Palace afterwards. Father Stephanje withheld his excitement, and continued to pray all the while. His heart, however, was soaring.

The sunday liturgy begun as usual. Mid- point, however, Father Stephanje appeared, being led by the Bishops of Ykateringburg and Novgorod. They took him to stand in front of the Patriarch's throne, before all the congregation. Maria, Alexander and the children knew what was happening. Father Stephanje had told them what happens when someone is being tonsured, or Ordained. They were surprised and pleased. Whilst he hadn't told them, it was the happiest they had ever felt since the passing of the last Tsar. They joined in, happily, with the rest of the congregation, exclaiming loudly "Worthy" three times, as is customary in the Orthodox Church. When Father, or Bishop as he should rightly be called now, Stephanje was lead around the Holy Altar in the Sanctuary, kissing the edges, three times he was then dressed in his Episcopal vestments. As each vestment was blessed by the Patriarch, he held it up, from inside the Sanctuary, towards the congregation, and said loudly "Worthy". It was something of a question he was asking them. "Is this man worthy of the Holy vestment i am about to dress him in?". Alexander and Maria, lead the rest of the congregation is crying out "Worthy", in response.

c. John Apotsis 2008- 2009

A Curse For Life Pt.5: Criss- Crossing Death and Life

Alexander and Maria moved into the Anichkov Palace, after their marriage. They lived there for fifteen years. In those fifteen years they saw much of Father Stephanje. Not only because they couldn't bare to do without him for long periods, but they had the need to baptise their children. This was a duty that Father Stephanje was only to happy to carry out.

The first of Alexander and Maria's children was Nikolas. He was born two years after Maria and Alexander were married. His official title would be Tsarevitch Nikolas Alexandrovitch Romanov. He would one day be Tsar, and the last Tsar that Russia would ever have again. By the time that young Nikolas was born, Father Stephanje had been tontured once again. He was now a Priest. He remained at the Cathedral of Saint Petersburg. The sounding of the bells would always draw the attention of a different crowd, with different feelings, whenever they were heard from within Anichkov Palace walls. Nikolas was baptised in the Cathedral. It was not a major event, but a crowd had gathered to see the young Tsarevitch and the pretty Maria.

All the time, news spread of how the young Grand Duchess was spending her time reading Russian history, and learning the language. The admiration of a nation was deepening ever more. Any news of the young Grand Duchess was welcomed. Good news was always savoured and treasured, bad news always brought an uproar against the cause. Maria had become the gem of Russia, not the gem of a man.

Barely a year after Nikolas, Alexander Alexandrovich was born. Yet another baptism, yet another crowd and yet more love and admiration for the children and the Grand Duchess. Father Stephanje was just as proud. He was still at the Cathedral, but was now taking on more and more responsibility. He continued to visit Anichkov whenever he could, and he visited his uncle in Moscow, and his parents. Whilst they all loved him, they could not, still, understand why he'd taken Ordination above Coronation. Whilst this no longer bothered Father Stephanje, it was the reason he tried to visit only when he could. His duty was to a different king, and that took priority over everything else. It was his vocation.

By the time that George Alexandrovich was born, Father Stephanje was an Archimandrite, below the rank of Bishop, but above the rank of Priest. He was the secretary to the Patriarch, and still the celebrant Priest at the Cathedral of Saint Petersburg. Nikolas was now 3 years old, Alexander 2. They had heard the bells of the Cathedral ringing enough times, that they, too, became slaves to the beauty of the noise. They had seen Father Stephanje enough, and attended church every sunday enough, to identify the ringing bells with him. They always brought smile and laughter to the boys faces. It was a sight to brighten anyone's day. Alexander and Maria looked forward to it. The servants would all linger a moment or two longer, outside of the doors to the room, to hear the laughter.

By this stage Alexander and Maria stopped caring how few, or how many, children they would have. They would have as few, or as many, as they were meant to. Like the rest of the nation, however, Maria joked that she didn't want any more, if they would all be boys. Birthdays passed, vacations to Crimea also passed. Father Stephanje, and the sunday attendance, however, was one thing that the boys had grown to accustomed to give up. To long without Father Stephanje was like having no air, or happiness, in life. Seemingly, he was apart of them, as much they were apart of him.

Four years passed after George, when Maria, and Russia, got her wish. The first girl was born to the couple. The name they decided, would be Catherine. However, Nikolas, who was now 7, and Alexander, who was 6, had returned from a day out with Father Stephanje. They spoke of some names of the Saints in the Church. One that Father Stephanje loved very much was Xenia. The boys, completely in love with Father Stehanje, loved the name too. Thus, so as not to upset the boys, Maria and Alexander, also content with the name, called their girl Xenia.

Father Stephanje was surprised when he heard the story afterwards. He cried. The boys were sweet. He loved them as if they were his own. He was connected to them the same way he was connected to Alexander and Maria. He loved them all. They were his life, and his death. He lived for them, but he died for them, whenever he tried to make them see the Christian way of living.

c. John Apotsis 2008- 2009

Disrespect of the Highest Degree

We all hear, and are told, to be weary of the things we read on the World Wide Web. It is fair to say, such is the opinion of people, and rightly so, as there are many people with net access, and just as many varying opinions. It is possible to read of one's objective stance on a particular issue. It is just as possible, however, to read of one's biased, and narrow- minded opinion, on another.

For those who know me, and those who i've told, i am, in part, (mainly from the Greek part), an Imperialist. Loyalty to God, King, and Country. To some this may be childish. To others, foolish, to others it may be something they understand and also hold. Regardless, this is a belief i hold. I believe that monarchy is not such a bad thing. I believe that monarchy is something of importance, even in today's society. At the very least, monarchies still in existance today are all constitutional, most of them are anyway. The respect and the ceremony is all still there, in a way. Some, in fact, still enjoy the idea of monarchy. I do. I am a citizen of a nation apart of a commonwealth, under a constitutional monarchy.

I have always been fascinated by the history that sourrounds royal families, and royalty. Particularly, if no one has noticed, the Imperial and Royal Families of: Greece, Russia, and Great Britain. This is my trinity of "Royal Passion". Whilst i can see that Australia will become a republic, in the future, i still believe that politicians such as Prime Minister Rudd, and Oppostion leader Turnbull, inflict a great insult on the Monarchy of England. Sure, this is a serious issue that must be addressed. However, pictures of Prime Minister Rudd have circulated in the media; Drapped in the Australian flag with the title: "Rudd Republic" underneath, a wide grin on the PM's face, as though he has something to be proud of.

I have no problem with the issue being placed atop the national agenda, if it must be. I do, however, contest the display of such images, which clearly disrespect the monarchy that governs this nation. A Prime Minister of Queen Elizabeth's is her adviser. He/ She is the one entrusted to govern the nation on behalf of the Queen. Such images take advantage of the priviledge Prime Minister Rudd has been given. He drapes himself in the flag that many have died under, and with a grin, attacks the monarchy for which he works. What can one extrapolate from such disrespectful displays? The Prime Minister, the Queen's advisor, the man chosen by the people of Australia, is not happy with the power he alreay obtains. Being the Prime Minister is not enough for Prime Minister Rudd. He is searching for more. He, and Liberal leader Turnbull, are looking for how to become the last Prime Minister of Australia and the first President of the Republic of Australia.

I thought such socialist activity ended with the appaling murder of the Imperial family of Russia; Tsar Nikolas II and his family. However, i can see a modern revolution taking place, lead by noneother, than the man i call the Prime Minister of Australia; the man who is leading my country at the moment. I doubt i can i do a better job, however, i will not doubt the lack of respect and loyalty this Prime Minister has for the monarchy that he is still under.

As if this were not enough. Recently, while researching information on the Greek Royal Family, i fell into wikipedia. It was interesting to read a debate taking place between some of the monitors of the site. The dispute was over the title of Constantine, the Former King of Greece. Most sites will use this title when refering to the exiled King. However, there are some which use the variations: "Constantine, the King of Greece", and "Constantine, King of Greece".

The fairest argument put forward was: Constantine was the King of Greece. Although, he is no longer the King. Thus, he should not be given the title: the King. Having ruled the country for a period of time, and having been exiled by a false, and undemocratic referendum; the argumentor was undecided whether Constantine should remain to be called: King of Greece. Seeing as the country was now a democracy, and not a monarchy, he/ she concluded simply, no. Hence, the title: "Former King of Greece", was the most appropriate. It described the circumstance for which Constantine was no longer the King of Greece, yet allowed him the respect he is still due.

What really angered me was that some person had the audacity to hold the belief that he should loose all title/s offered out of respect. "He is no longer a King, even though he was. So he shouldn't need any title. He rules no country, so he's not a king." The only response i had to that statement, not being a monitor i couldn't respond however, is: Queen Elizabeth II's mother, the Queen Mother, was known as "Queen Elizabeth", even though she no longer wore the crown, or sat on the throne of England. What makes this case different to Constantine's, that some person should believe he should not be offered some sort of respect?

In the end the reality is that there are still monarchies in existance. Whilst their power and control has deminished, they still play a role in reminding people how society was once ordered. The royalty, when coronated, do so before the people of the nation, and sometimes, before the world. Some may not think much of the rituals and ceremonies. However, others, myself included, see that somethings, such as the coronation of a King or Queen, has theological meaning behind it. When a King or Queen is coronated, they kneel before a Holy Altar of God and vow to protect and serve the people of the nation with justice and fairness and mercy, for all their life, however long or short that may be.

Some people disregard such statements, others just don't care. I, however, and a few others, see that this is something our leaders don't do. Prime Minister Rudd didn't kneel before an Altar and make such an oath, such a promise. In fact, i didn't see the Prime Minister, and his cabinet, sworn into office. In some countries, the coronation of a King or Queen is a national holiday. The Prime Minister of my nation is sworn into office, and i hear of it on the evening edition of the news. I believe that to attempt to remove a King or Queen, in the way that Prime Minister Rudd has attempted to, is disrespectful. Regardless of the fact that such a thing will happen, he does not have to encourage, and add his personal beliefs to, the situation. Such a disgusting and disrespectful display that contests the presence of a constitutional monarchy, to me, is something of a modern revolution. Prime Minister Rudd and extremely proud republican, Turnbull, are just as bad as the soviet socialists. They haven't murdered, yet. However, the low tactics, and over- Australian patriotic speeches they've both given on the subject, are better than murder.

Suffering

I had no intention of interrupting the flow of the story. However, after today, and an event that occured at the very end of my day, i have to get this off my chest.

Freedert Mitchel Bishop is a friend i made back in year 8. It all started from French class that was run back then, before it changed to Italian. We were given the opportunity to select a few countries that we wanted pen- pals from. I chose the US as one among the other 4. Freedert was my pen- pal from Cinncinnati, Ohio. At first we started off as any other kids start off. Shyly, and our letters were rather simple and very "one- way", so to speak. What i mean is, we only asked the basic questions at first, it almost seemed stupid to send a letter so far across the globe. However, we both persisted in our endeavours.

I won't say that i know Freedert. In fact there is only one part of him that i do know. Other than that, i know there is a person that i still know nothing about, 5 years later. Freedert, what i do know about him, is a delicate human. Yes, i just said that another guy is delicate; yes, he is homosexual; No, i don't have a problem. Freedert and i had our fair share of arguments, like all friends. However, we forged a friendship unlike any other i've ever had.

Freedert had, and still has, a confidence problem. Whilst i never saw him, to see how bad it was, i know that we had at least three arguments over it. Sometimes, in fact twice, it was my misunderstanding and impatience with him. Now i regret it all. Despite the fact that it's something i look back on with a smile and a sense of fondness for him. Whilst we rarely spoke about family, i still had the chance to speak with his twin sister. I felt accepted in the family, at least, from the impression both Freedert and his sister gave me.

Recently we spoke about how Ike had hit Cinncinnati. His family was one of the fortunate one's not to have their home destroyed by the natural force of destruction. However, others weren't so lucky, and the carnage on the roads, apparently, was not a pretty sight either. I remember, now, thinking back, saying i was glad that he and his family were all well and healthy. I remember saying i wouldn't know what i'd do if i found out he'd gotten hurt, while i was still here, unable to do or say something.

Now, as i remember this, i feel as though i must have incurred a jinx or curse on him. I regret the entire conversation ever occuring. Today, at the end of my day, and what a wonderful day it was; I got a message from Freedert's sister. Freedert is in a hospital in the US, in critical condition, and in intensive care.

Freedert was walking home earlier today, when a car travelling over the speed limit swerved and hit a tree, which fell onto Freedert. Sounds like something from a t.v. show, or even a movie, doesn't it? Well, this is something slightly different, at least, to me. This is reality. The reality of suffering. I can't help but fear the worst. Sure, death is apart of life, and in some way/s, it is actually a better option, rather than living a slow death. The question i have is: Should i use this as a consolation to the fact that i am not with him, and his family, at this crucial time?

Thus far, there has only been one, two at the most, occasion/s where i have expressed how useless and hopeless i feel. This, however would bring the tally up to two, or three if it is so. I didn't know what to say, or how to respond to the message when i got it. I was shocked, i was afraid, and i was worried. Sure, suffering is apart of life; in fact it could be one of the things about life that makes it all the more worth living. The whole "getting over the mountian" concept, and finally over- coming a terrible ordeal, may be one of the things that make happy times even better.

Is it rational, however, to feel as though you've had enough, you've reached your limit? You just want things to come and go, you're sick of having things you care about ruined, destroyed, hurt or even pushed to the brink of death; Is that rational- Having enough-? Is it only human to say: Do your worst, i don't care anymore, i'm as hurt as i've ever been, as i'll ever get, i can't feel any worse than i do?

Answer/s: Probably not. It may actually hurt more to say that, than it will to hold one's peace and silence, and hope and pray for better times in the near future.

I think that's all i can do. Hope and pray. If i do loose a friend, that i hardly knew, it will hurt me more than ever. I knew nothing about this person for the 5 years i knew him. He, however, called me a friend. I called him a friend. Although, for some reason, i got the feeling that whilst we were using the same word, the meaning, for him, was deeper, than the meaning i was placing on the word. I think, now, that is what i failed to see, and what i am now regreting.

A Curse For Life Pt.4: Holy and Royal Duty (Continued)

Once Father Stephanje, Alexander, and Maria had made their way around the Marriage table for the third time they all stopped and assumed their positions. Alexander and Maria stood side by side, in front of the Marriage table, and the Holy Altar of God, no longer man and woman, but husband and wife. Father Stephanje gave their hands a gentle squeeze before he joined the ranks again. The Patriarch, slowly and serenly, stepped down the three steps from the entrance to the Holy Sanctuary, and made his way to stand in front of the couple. He said the final blessing on Alexander, and then on Maria. As he did so, Father Stephanje handed the Patriarch the gospel, with which the Patriarch broke the bond of the right hands. Nothing, except God, could take away what Alexander and Maria now shared. They were married.

Alexander and Maria stood facing the Holy Altar until all the guests had filed out of the chapel. Now the clergy were removing their vestments, on the inside of the Iconastasis. The only one who remained was the Patriarch. He stood watching them both. They watched him, unable to decide if they should be happy or worried. He spoke gently and kindly.
"He loves you both." Alexander and Maria continued to watch the Patriarch.
"You are both apart of a life he once led. Now he leads a different life. One day, maybe one day he will be Patriarch. Whilst you all go your different ways, try and remain close. He has found it hard to be away from you both. I fear i love him to much, i couldn't resist the urge to grant him his hearts desire. Well, you saw the result."
Aelxander and Maria learnt something new. Father Stephanje cared more than they thought. All the time, they were worrying and hadn't given him the benfit of the doubt. Now they felt ashamed.
"Nevermind," continued the Patriarch, as if reading their minds.
"Stephanje!" he said, no louder than he already spoke. Seemingly out of nowhere, Father Stephanje appeared before his Patriarch.
"Take the Crown Prince and the Grand Duchess to the desk to sign the Marriage certifiacte. I will change and be there shortly." With that the Patriarch took his leave of the trio.

A short silence followed the departure of the Patriarch. Though they knew he didn't mind them at all, they still wanted to feel a sense of privacy. Thus, they waited till he entered the Holy Sanctuary before they fell into each other's embraces. Maria, already tearful, let out some soft sobs and fell into Father Stephanje's embrace. She hit his chest playfully twice, looking at him with a teary smile.
"I thought you were upset when we first walked in. You scared me terribly." They all chuckled again.
"Well i couldn't exactly smile and wave to you!" responded Father Stephanje
"Why not?" retorted Alexander. He was joking, but he tried his best to wear a serious expression. Maria and Father Stephanje looked at him. He stared back.
"Oh that's right Father, how silly of me!" said Maria turning on Father Stephanje, sarcastically.
"Yes why didn't you smile, wave, and do a little happy dance while you were at it? I'm sure that would have "spiced" up the drab wedding proceedings." Maria smirked and turned to Alexander.
"Play nicely children!" came a voice from behind them. They all started and turned. The Patriarch stood before them, dressed in black. He wore a soft smile, as though he, too, wanted to join in on the fun. However, Father Stephanje, Maria and Alexander all felt embarrassed. Maria blushed, Alexander silenced immediately and only spoke when spoken to, Father Stephanje bowed his head in shame. He reprimanded himself for showing such disrespect whilst still in the chapel. He didn't look up again for a while. Alexander and Maria were not as hurt this time as they were in the beginning. Now they understood how different Father Stephanje had to be.

Despite the fact that he wanted to be the way they knew him to have been, the reality of the situation was, Father Stephanje now lead a different life. Alexander wanted to help, but he knew that would mean loosing one of his closest and dearest friends. Maria wanted to help, but the pain of it all was too much for her to bear, even now.

c. John Apotsis 2008- 2009

A Curse For Life Pt.4: Holy and Royal Duty (Continued)

Maria entered the Imperial chapel. By the entrance of the chapel, stood Alexander. It was Eastern Orthodox tradition that the bride and groom be asked if they were approaching the Marriage alter of their own free will, and were not promised to anyone else. As Maria entered and stood by Alexander, an altar boy of the chapel handed her the candle that she would hold, lighted, for the entire marriage service.

Both, bride and groom stood in front of the congregation, the doors, and God. The Patriarch appeared at the entrance of the Iconastasis. The remainder of the clergy present were standing on either side of the entrance, forming, something, of a guard- of- honour. From the ranks stepped forward one of the two deacons. He stood in front of the Patriarch and bowed. The Patriarch blessed him. The deacon turned and proceeded to walk down to the couple.

Father Stephanje stood before the couple. He neither acknowledged them with a smile, or any friendly gesture.
"Have you, Alexander Alexandrovich, come before the Holy Altar of God, seeking marriage, of your own free will? Are you promised to another?"
Alexander knew the questions that were customarily asked. He answered them both.
"I have come before this Holy Altar of God seeking marriage of my own free will. I am not promised to any one else."
Father Stephanje turned now to Maria. Maria smiled nervously. She wanted a smile, a gesture. She got none. Her heart ached slightly, but she did what she had to.
"I have come before this Holy Altar of God seeking marriage of my own free will. I am not promised to anyone else." She faltered for a second on the second and most defining part. Father Stephanje noticed and looked straight at Maria. Maria had to avert her eyes, his gaze bore into her and seemed to expose her.

Hearing the correct responses given, Father Stephanje turned to face the altar again. Maria was slightly crest- fallen, although, she did her best to hide it. She smiled gently and tried to steel herself and hold her emotions. Father Stephanje walked before the couple, as they made their way up to stand in front of the marriage table, in front of the Iconastasis entrance. A priest from one of the major parishes in Saint Petersburg stepped forward, bowed to the Patriarch, then blessed the two rings. Up till now the rings had been resting on a golden gospel. The priest picked them up, blessed them by making the sign of the cross with them, in his hand, over the gospel. Then he gave Maria's to Alexander, he said the necessar prayers, then indicated to Alexander, who slipped the ring on Maria's fourth finger, on her right hand. He gave Alexanders to Maria, again the same occured. At this, Alexander's brother stepped forward, as best man. He crossed his hands, right over left, took the rings in his fingers and crossed them three times. Each time, he placed the rings back on the fingers of the couple. This symbolised their union for life. With this, the betrothal service was now over.

The service of Holy Matrimony begun, and continued in the symbolism and rituals which were firmly rooted in their Byzantine origins. The ceremony culminated in the crowning of the bride and groom. This part is exactly as it sounds. Two crowns had also rested upon the gold gospel. They were made of gold, and were smaller replicas of crowns. They were connected by a ribbon. The crowns were blessed, a sign of the cross made over the couple three times, and placed on the head of both bride and groom. After petitions to the Lord the crowns were removed.

At the conclusion of the crowning an epistle exerpt of Saint Paul was read, exhorting both bride and groom to unconditional love and support. This was followed by Father Stephanje reading from the Holy Gospel of John, about the miracle of Jesus at the wedding at Cana. The end of the readings brought the Patriarch down from the Holy Sancutary for the first time. After the necessary prayers and petitions, he offered the common cup of Holy Communion to the couple. He, for the first time, was the only clergy- man to offer a kind smile. The couple were slightly empowered by the gesture, despite the fact it was not a sign from him they were both waiting for.

Just as the readings finished the Priest stepped forward again. The Patriarch was now, again, before the entrance to the Holy Sanctuary. He held up a halting hand. This was unorthodox and unconventional. He indicated, the priest fell back into ranks. He indicated again. Father Stephanje stepped forward. He looked confused, shocked, but rather happy. He stood slightly taller, and prouder. He bowed then turned and looked at the couple. He wore the biggest grin on his face. Neither Alexander, nor Maria, could hold in back their smiles. Father Stephanje stood before them. He joined the right hands of Alexander and Maria, still smiling. He took up the Holy Gospel in his right hand, with his left, he gently took hold of the right hands of the couple. The necessary petitions sayed, Father Stephanje chanted, loudly and beautifully, the words of the marriage dance. These words were chanted as the couple, lead by Father Stephanje, walked around the marriage table three times. Father Stephanje lead the couple as they took their first steps as husband and wife. Maria couldn't control herself. She wanted to be a normal bride, just for a second.

With the thought of release in her mind, Maria looked to Father Stephanje. She forgot about what she had thought of doing, when she saw that Father Stephanje was already doing it. Father Stephanje, over- come with joy and love, for the union of the two people he loved dearly, was crying. Having been granted the honour of leading them, which broke tradition, Father Stephanje couldn't have asked for a better moment, in his religious career, that would shine and stay with him, no matter what.

c. John Apotsis 2008- 2009