Lighting a candle. That simple, mundane act — one which I have repeated almost daily for most of my life — is what draws me into the world of the pysanka (Ukrainian Easter egg). I strike a match, bringing it close to the wick; it lights, emitting a whiff of sulfur mixed with the smell of beeswax. A faint plume of smoke rises from the flame and surrounds me. This is my entry into the world of the ancients, where life revolved around legends and rituals, people were content to believe in the intangible, and life moved to the slow yet relentless rhythms of nature.