Ancient Connections

April 17, 2025

For Ukrainians like me, making pysanky (easter eggs) is a deeply personal practice that connects us to our heritage, spirituality, and to one another.

The art has roots in pre-Christian pagan traditions, pysanky are linked to sun worship and nature-based religions, where eggs symbolized fertility, renewal, and protection against evil.
With the Christianization of Kyivan Rus in 988, pysanky became associated with Easter, representing Christ’s resurrection and new life.

A favorite folk tale of mine claims there is an evil monster chained in the eastern hills who, every year, sends his minions out to see if people are still making pysanky because it is the power of the communal creation that keeps the monster chained. As long as someone, somewhere is making pysanky, the monster will remain bound, unable to rise and bring destruction upon the world. But if the tradition fades, if the people forget the sacred act of creating pysanky, the monster’s chains will weaken.

Another legend says that long ago, there was a year when war and famine struck the land, and few had the strength to gather dyes or melt wax. The evil minions returned to the monster and whispered that the people had nearly forgotten. With a great, rumbling laugh, he pulled at his chains, and they groaned against the earth, cracking stones and shaking trees. But deep in the heart of a small village, a grandmother and her granddaughter sat by the fire, dipping a simple egg into a bath of golden dye made of humble onion skins, tracing delicate lines with wax. Their laughter and love carried through the wind, and the chains of the monster held firm.

To this day, it is said that each pysanka created is not just a decoration but a spell, a promise, a link in the great chain that binds the darkness. So long as even one person continues the tradition, the monster will never be free.

March 15, 2025

I’m learning that running for mayor isn’t about policies and platforms—it’s about connecting with people. There are moments when I get anxious about collecting signatures, about standing on doorsteps, asking for support, putting myself out there. But then, I remember the women who came before me—Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Susan B. Anthony, and countless others—who gathered hundreds of thousands of signatures to support legislation that they themselves had no right to vote for. They didn’t let fear stop them. They did the work because it needed to be done.

And I am lucky. I have the right to vote. I have the opportunity to run. By knocking on doors I’ve gotten to meet my neighbors and make great friends like Sue, who is a super cool, super smart community member. She welcomed me with kindness, shared her insights about our village, and reminded me why our residents are the best in the whole world.

So when anxiety creeps in, I remind myself: this is part of something bigger. This is democracy in action. And every conversation, every signature, every step I take is a small but meaningful continuation of the work that generations before us fought for. I hope you’ll join me — and not just in signing a petition, but in believing that grassroots efforts can bring real change to our community.
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