The Circle of Light

Around the world, many people associate Easter with Eggs. There seems to be a fascination with eggs around this time of the year, and many things contribute to it; their perfect round and oval shapes, soft hues, versatility in cooking, ease of decorating; and most importantly, how life seems to spring forth from them after periods of seeming to be in a state of suspended animation.

For me, there was one egg in particular that always held a fascination for me; an ornately decorated red and white chicken egg that sat perpetually perched on it’s matching red and white egg-holder, on the top shelf of my mother’s spoon collection rack as far back as I can remember. Egg decorating had always been a tradition among children in my family, my brother and I would colour hard-boiled eggs and trade them with our cousins. But this egg was different, it was hollow instead of boiled, dyed instead of coloured; it was a Pysanka.

The Pysanky is a Ukrainian tradition that spans centuries. Eggs are first pierced at each end with a wide needle, and then blown out over a bowl. Melted wax is applied in a pattern, and then the egg is dunked in dye. More wax is then applied, and then the egg is dunked again in a different colour dye; no dye will stick to anywhere covered in wax. When the egg is completely covered in wax (and therefore completely dyed), it is held near a candle and the wax is wiped away to reveal a beautiful creation, the pysanka.

Each egg is decorated with specific designs called Znaki. The Znaki are each symbolic and can also have the power of an amulet, much like the designs on rune stones. Each Znaki has a Christian and Pagan meaning; for example, a sun sign such as a circle, cross or swastika may stand for the Sun Gods, while in Christian symbolism it may stand for the Son of their God, Jesus (or Yeshuah). There are hundreds of Znaki, everything from wavy lines to sheaves of wheat. In addition to that, the colours can also have symbolic meanings; an egg that is only in black and white symbolizes death and is made in honour of the deceased for example.

My first experience trying to recreate a Pysanka like the one on the spoon rack turned out to be not what I had expected. I was preparing for a Zadusnica (Day of the Dead). Navija's Day, the Zadusnica in February was coming up, and in honour of a good friend of mine who had passed on, I was planning on adorning my altar with a black and white egg. Sure, things went well at first; I washed my egg, poked perfectly round holes, carefully blew out the entire gunk inside, washed my egg again inside and out, then set it on a towel to dry. I left the room for just a moment…

My next experience with Pysanky didn’t come until just the other day at my sister’s house. I was playing with my niece August’s hamster when something caught my eye; amidst the clutter on the table next to the hamster cage was a tiny red egg delicately decorated with little white stripes and yellow flowers. Picking up the egg carefully, I turned to my niece. "Did you make this yourself?" I asked. "Yep," she replied. I inquired how she made it and she said "Don’t you know how to make an Easter egg?" "Well, yes," I responded, "But did you do it the traditional way, with the wax and the dyes?" She nodded. I nearly fell over.

Here it was. At sixteen years old, my 12-year-old niece had managed better with Pysanky than I did. I was proud of her. Then she informed me, "Nana helped me. There were three eggs but you know how Nana is; she held one up to look at it, then oops! She dropped it. Then she was looking at the second one, suddenly oops, she dropped it. I would NOT let her near my third one!!!"

I smiled to myself. Little August had her own broken Pysanka learning experience; don’t trust Nana with anything breakable (LOL!).

There is an old Ukrainian tradition that says the Pysanky break when their purpose is finally done. It may be frustrating to see one of these works of art break, but more than works of art, they are amulets rich in symbolism and tradition. When a Pysanky breaks, it is supposed to break. The pieces, rather than being thrown out, are to be treated reverently, disposed of either by burial in Moist Mother Earth or left in a spring for the water to take away. Until the Pysanky breaks, it serves its purpose by protecting the house or teaching a lesson.

I look forward to the next time I work with eggs, even if they do break. They give me memories to smile about. And the red egg from my childhood still sits high on its shelf, protecting the household until someday it too has served its purpose.