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The Sirotin Brothers in Spirit

Lost on the Crossroads of History

This is a story about  the extraordinaire power of the negative thought forms that may create most dramatic family events through generations.  Say, one such significant event happened in year 1918 near St. Petersburg when my grandmother was raped and murdered by Kronstadt navy. In two decades later, this fatal event echoed in destiny of Anna’s two sons, Victor and Erast, who perished faraway in a Siberian Gulag.

… Up to present days, speaking about Soviet mass deportations of average citizens to  Gulags, Estonian call them “free trips to Siberia.” The Sirotin brothers, White Army officers,  lived at that time in Estonia.  And despite being Russians, they were taken tо this “free trip” on the very first day when Baltic states were occupied by The Red Army in 1940. The Stalin’s “falcons,” the spies trained to infiltrate life at West by all means, including homosexual relationships, probably, obtained the list of members in Tartu White Officers Club long before the annexation of Baltic States occurred.

In Siberia, they were sent to different Gulags, but brother’s managed to reunite only to be killed in the strangest accident thinkable. An unexperienced inmate, a Tadzhik national, who did not speak a word in Russian, and therefore, could not be instructed or stopped, started a root bulldozer and this behemoth moved both brothers who were resting nearby in high grass during their lunch break. Was this double death orchestrated by destiny, or a meaningless accident?

In 2015, about 75 years after their transition, Viktor and Erast, now in spirit, showed up in my California apartment asking for a healing and advice how to learn some English. Sensing that they were interested more in talking, we reduced healing to a shower of the golden light. In some 30 minutes the brothers reported experiencing lightness, and it meant that they were ready for a talk.

Affable Viktor asked some questions how such kind of healing works and recalled suddenly that once I asked about times, when Yudenich’s army was treacherously disarmed by Estonians, and the victorious general, according to the records of his successes in WWI battles, was arrested.  “Moving toward Petrograd, we were sure of victory, but Trotsky emerged as devil out of the sniffing box, out from nowhere on our way. No one ever heard his name, and we were taken by surprise and secrecy. We were not ready to meet him. Later, we learned that Stalin murdered Trotsky somewhere abroad. Trotsky gave him a victory over the White Army under Petrograd, and claimed, as it should, the position of the leader of the nation. They called it a position of the First Secretary of their party, or some committee, I am not sure that I remember their political titles.

“Trotsky began to drive us back and we found ourselves again at Narva, the Estonian border town. A fast train covered the distance between Petrograd and Narva too soon to learn what had happened meanwhile in Estonia. When train stopped at Narva railway station, we were met by Estonians armed to the teeth. We took them for friends, and did not throw up our rifles, and instead of hugs, we were showered by bullets! Our losses were big, we had to fight embracing the enemy’s bayonets. Nevertheless, we killed and dispersed them despite the deception and betrayal. The wartime betrayal is a terrible thing.

“I cannot stand Estonians ever since, and as I heard, Estonians cannot stand us after Stalin’s betrayal, when “the father of all nations” ordered mass deportation of Estonians. to Gulags.”

The free trip to Siberia was granted to intelligentsia charged with cosmopolitism (what it is, really, who knows? I did not know what it is! — T.E.) and to farmers who were suspected in resistance to collectivization of the Estonian farming. In brief, Estonian farmers who  did not want to join kolkhozes and give up their lands and horses and cows and lambs that they had taken good care of during centuries on stony shores of the Baltic Sea were doomed to deportation leaving behind whatever they had. The mass arrests were supposed to brake the nation people’s  resistance. Arrested people were put in the the cattle wagons on very long trips in trains that crossed the flat part of the Russia, then entered the Asian part covered with Taiga thick forests, forests and forests that could swallow an uncountable number of prisoners and return home only very few ones. But in year 1918 Baltic people got a short break enjoying 20 years of independent existence.  Victor and Erast happened to be the involuntary witnesses how this coveted independence was achieved.

“In independent Estonia, we lived in Tartu in poor conditions. Erast and I, we worked for Estonians in their construction business. We were trusted only with manual jobs, as your father was. We knew that he dug marsh near Paide for drying turf pellets. Our manual jobs did not turn us and Estonians into friends, and your father was not happy with his manual job either. They treated us like Americans treated their black slaves, it was all the same slavery everywhere. Estonians did not let us to fight Trotsky forces that would stop Bolsheviks, and Bolsheviks turned Communists paid them with mass deportation to Siberia. Such was the small tragedy that took place on the railroad between Narva and Petrograd in times, when the fate of small and large nations was decided!
I wanted you to know how it really was.”

“You ask, how did happen that the sons of a Russian priest attended the school of cadets, designed for nobility’s posterity to become officers. Our father was a soldier who became officer for his military merits. When we grow up to go to school, father wrote a letter to the Excellency Nikolai the Second, and we were accepted into the cadet’s school for our father’s military achievements, as he distinguished himself in the Caucasus. No one knows if his stories contained exaggerations or not. Maybe he spoke the truth after all, because if he would lie, no one would accept us as the cadets. You are right, in his soul, our father was a warrior, not a priest, a smart man who was left without any education whatsoever, so, growing up in monastery, the only thing he learned was to play a role of a priest and make it a source of his income. Warrior and priest can hardly become friends, and this conflict, I think, was the root of his alcoholism. He was a reveler and alcoholic and at the same time a lost clever man. We became Cadets, and after school, we were sent straight to the front line of WW I.”

 

“You also asked about our life in the Siberian labor camp. I tell you one thing. After my Estonian experience, for me and Erast, there were no difference between our Estonian life with being doomed to the manual jobs, similar to manual jobs in the Gulag! We understand that getting a better job in future, we have to learn English, but how?”

What could I tell them? Many and many generation of immigrants has proven that the most prolific way of learning a spoken language is casting himself or herself into the environment where no one speaks a single word of your mother tongue, and the miracle happens, the foreign language will open up to you, it will embrace you and, suddenly, you start understand it.  Thinking about Victor’s story how Yudenich was betrayed,  I found оn Internet an article “Nikolai Yudenich” written by a professional historians. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nikolai_Yudenich

It contained the listing of Yudenich’s victorious battles on the WWI fronts, the base of his reputation as a distinguished war commander. The same article included the description of the disarmament of the North West Army and arrest of Yudenich by Estonians when was time to fight Bolshevik’s upheaval in Petrograd (St. Petersburg)  This article confirmed the “ghost story” told by Viktor and Erast, the testimony of the participants of the Yudenich’s army last battle during the Russian Civil War. Estonians fought for their independence by all means, and it included the betrayal of Yudenich’s White North Western army. It helped considerably Trotsky to take the power from The Provisional Government and turning it to Bolsheviks.

Estonian independence, received in 1919 for switching sides, would last, as already mentioned, two decades and in year 1940, all three Baltic states would be annexed by Stalin, in other words, swallowed back into merciless and always hungry guts of the Stalinist Russia. Estonia independence will be restored as part of collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991.

Wikipeda had also another article “North Western Army” about the same Russian Civil War episode written from the Estonian point of view.  According to this article, the Estonian “switch of mind” from supporters of the White Army to supporters of the Trotsky came from the political views of Alexander Kolchak, the leader of Russia at a time. Kolchak refused to consider autonomy for ethnic minorities. In other words, Trotsky was more flexible than Kolchak, and he recognized the autonomy of ethnic minority that sought freedom from tsarist Russia considered to be the Imperial prison for multitude of nations all around the skirt of that giant country.

http://www.estonica.org/en/North-Western_Army/

For explanation of the disarmament of the North Western Army at the most critical moment of the fight against Bolshevism, this article said only a couple of words: Yudenich’s army “was finally disbanded.” For more details, the academic authors of this article send readers to Trotsky’s archive, pointing at the real force that granted them their swift independence!

Soon we, Viktor and Erast met again, and I asked how it happened that the Sirotin’s family left their mother Anna behind, fleeing to Estonia when the Reds terrorized the Russian Church? Of course, no one could foresee the size and cruelty of Bolsheviks war against their own church. Probably father Mikhail wanted to shield his already elderly and fragile wife from dangers of the boat trip across the stormy lake Peipus to Estonia where no one was waiting them with open arms. Viktor told that at first, he did not get what was happening.

“Father said that we will return in three days and our mother will wait for us at home with the hot samovar, and we will have tea together, and mother will bring jam preserves from the storeroom… We believed him, we sailed in boat crossing Chudskoye or Peipus, in Estonian, the natural border between the Russia and Estonia. I was with the fisherman Vasya on the oars. I was already strong and agile, and by the today’s standards, I would fit to be a member of some hockey team. Thank God, today I’m not attracted to football or hockey, but to something else, like healing animals. I’ll try to find out what is wrong with your cat’s kidneys.”

“Thank you! I will be grateful! When did you realize that there was no return home, and your mother was left alone home, and she could be exposed to mortal danger.”

“I understood it soon. I can see when my father was telling a lie. I began to jerk him, asking when we go for our mother back to Russia? He did not answer, and then, suddenly, he shouted ‘Let it go, it’s not your business!’ I wanted to sail back alone. But I did not have the spirit to act, and I still cannot forgive myself for it.”

“How did you learn the truth?”

“As a member of the White Officers’ Club I visited it quite often. Over there, a person whispered in my ear the terrible truth and introduced me to his friend who had arrived from Russia shortly. We met in the same officers’ club, and he shared everything he knew — the names of many murdered people, including the names of our mother and the widow of neighboring priest’s, whom my mother was friends with, and whom she had visited the day, when they both were murdered.

“This officer who brought this terrible news took my word that I would not say anything to my sisters. I gave my word. I learned the whole truth from him, to the last details. And he said that everything is being recorded… and our tears will be avenged. Were they avenged? I knew what had happened to Kronstadt sailors and how they fled after their failed uprising. Estonians did not take in a single man of them. Finland did, they sent them to North to do timber, where these bastards were fed and paid for their work.

“Za upokoj dushi, a burial sermon “for soul’s peace” was ordered in a local Russian church in Estonia. I asked my father to cross the lake one more time and bury our mother according to our custom. But he doubted that we, or someone else would find her body in that mess? I think that at that time he was right. How would we find her there? We raised the cross in the cemetery near the place where we lived in Estonia. Of course, father was right, who would know where the rapist threw her body? People were shaking from terror.”

“All this horror was returning to me in my nightmares,” Victor continued. “I hated myself for obeying the fool and failing to go for my mother’s body alone. I did not have money, fishermen of the Old Believers in Estonia were the ones who crossed in boats that sometimes stormy Peipus, and, of course, they asked a pay for this two-way trip and I did not have any money at a time.

“We arrived as beggars, my father fled in terror. At home, in Russia, he has told us such wonderful tales of his courage, but when it got to the point, he turned to be a coward. Now I see that he is not a spiritual person, all his priesthood thing was a sham only!

“You know that in year 1940, the Reds arrested us immediately after their arrival to Estonia. They had to have the list of the members of the White Guard Club handy. Traitors were everywhere. Our Club’s charter recognized the Russian Tsar, the authority of his government, and everything that Reds fight to change. The Reds sent to Gulags all white officers to the last member of Tartu White Officers Club. The Reds had to have the membership list long before occupation of Estonia, they knew where to find us, they get us where Erast and I were painting a new apartment… The Reds get us at the very first hour of marching into Tartu in 1940. Instead of going home to change our working clothing, we were guided straight to the Tartu Railway station where a train was waiting us and our “free trip” to Siberia began.

“How you got in your psychic vision how we died?” – Viktor asked me. “You saw that we were laying in the tall grass to rest during our brief lunchtime. The sun was shining straight into the eyes of the motorist who was moving the bulldozer, sun was blindingly bright, and he did not see us.

“I even smelled that thick grass, but it can be my imagination.” – I added. “The grass was high, straight and very thick.”

“Yes, once, the grain seed bags were hidden there probably by farmers in the War Communism time, when all the wheat was appropriated by government in the name to “feed the hungry.”  The seeds were sprouting every year making their way to the light. Finally, wheat grew wild and then it was overgrown with wood, and we sat there during the lunch breaks. On that fatal day we fell asleep and did not feel a thing.

“Only suddenly I woke up screaming, “Erast, Erast,” and his face was cold, and the next instant I was gone as well.

“We met later, already in disembodied state, in the astral bodies. We got used to the fact that sometimes you fly and swim and you can move around in space, and your thoughts, and imagination create things, happenings and situations. Talk to Erast, he does not know you, but he can tell a lot.”

ErastErast’s voice was softer and quieter. “This is true. In Gulags, we found each other and reunited as the saying goes, only to die together! But in astral world, we began to look for each other, because, at first, it was very lonely here. You do not understand at once what is going on and, like on earth, maybe more openly, some strangers try to take advantage of your hesitations. Good that we were immediately dragged to the Palace of Justice, and as you did, they questioned me about life in Gulag. They asked humorously, whether we liked that life and laughed… Yes, I forgot to say that I found Viktor, and they let us through the judges on the same day.

“The judgement court passed quickly, because what demands they could make on us? We judged ourselves for leaving our mother in Russia alone to meet her terrible destiny. Was the unwilling murderer an Uzbek or Georgian, or some other national? At a time, we did not distinguish them, we had never heard about, say, Tajikistan. But there we were, all in the same Siberian camp, created by Bolsheviks and their brainchild, the Communist Party, and Felix Dzerzhinsky, the executioner of the Red Terror, the red hell to us all. Here, on the Astral Plane, on the contrary, we learned that each nation has its own “heaven,” in other words, here we have right to be different from others.

“As you also asked about our life in the Siberian labor camp, I would like to confirm that after our Estonian experience of manual jobs, we were well prepared to face Taiga logging operations. But it was not logging that killed us in Gulag, it was our consciousness regarding our mother’s destiny. It was our painful sense of guilt that did us in.

“Finally, we met our mother in our Russian heaven. We kind of made up, but I know she did not forgive neither me, nor Viktor. I know, we’ll still ask for her forgiveness, because we loved her very much. I know, she will forgive us, because we purged our souls to the extent that we went through the same thing, we died the same way, as she did being raped and murdered by Kronstadt matrosnya — navy! It had bonded us, maybe for eons!”

 

The PARTITION

Russian Revolution

The Russian Revolution 1917

The Meditation in Memory of my Grandmother Anna

Anna, my maternal grandmother, was a quiet and patient woman whom I did not see on earth. My mother never spoke about her, so did my mother’s siblings — my uncles and aunts who escaped from the Russian Civil War in 1918 to Estonia. They got Nansen passports and odd jobs were their only source of income. I remember noticing that they spoke often about their father Piotr, Anna’s husband, the undoubted authority in their eyes, and never mentioned their mother, as if she did not exist at all. Today I am over eighty. I live in the USA, and as a medium I hear voices of spirits and angels and I had appealed for spirits’ help to find Anna in the subtle world and introduce me to her, because I wanted to know who was my mother’s mother, and what I had inherited from her.

In short, here is Anna’s story. Her husband, my maternal grandfather served in the Caucasus, but for some reason, he replaced his military uniform with the priest’s attire. He was a loud man, who managed to secure for himself the central position in the family. But when I started asking questions how passive Anna and aggressive Piotr managed to coexist without divorcing or separating, several guardian angels offered me a special meditation to learn more about Anna. Will I recognize her in me? Do I carry some of her traits?

Meeting the spirit of Anna, my maternal grandmother

March 3, 2017

My aunt Zhenya, now also in the spirit world, brought her mother Anna to my place. As a medium, I can ask questions and receive answers from the spirits, that is, to engage in a dialogue with a chatting spirit like we converse with someone over the phone. The audibility of a spirit talk may fluctuate, sometimes spirit voices are quiet, hard to hear, but sometimes they sound as clearly, as coming from someone in flesh in my room. Usually, the longer you talk with a spirit, the better the audibility becomes. The legendary direct voice medium Leslie Flint had spoken about this condition of spirit communication – the spirit voices can be heard clearly, or vaguely depending on many conditions, like weather or the compatibility of medium’s and spirit voice’s wave frequencies.

Sometimes I see a spirit, with whom I talk, but not always. For instance, I wanted to see Anna, but she was not letting to see her, and I could sense that I was dealing with a reserved and impeccably polite person who took refuge in a protective shell. Nevertheless, Anna showed a sincere interest in meditation. As usual, I asked the Anna’s guardian angels, or her spirit helpers to come closer, join us, provide us with protection and determine the topic of meditation, from which Anna could derive some benefits.

Meditating, the first thing I saw was a bookshelf from floor to ceiling, packed with books. Did Anna see the same shelf, or did I see it because Anna chose to hint at something important about herself? Instantaneously, I recalled similar shelves in the library of my grandmother Luba, when she lived in her home in Paide, Estonia, before the arrival of the Reds. And per the same association, I asked Anna, “Do you come from the Russian nobility?” Anna confirmed. To me it seemed strange that I heard this for the first time in my eighties and already living decades in the USA. Why did none of her children, my mother included, did not talk about it? I broke off the meditation, and asked, where she met her future husband.

After some hesitation, as if getting my unspoken question, “If you are a noblewoman, how did you manage to become a widow of the priest, as people call them — papadya?” Overcoming some restrictions in her mind, she, finally spelled out the truth. “I met him on our estate. I was 17 years old. He raped me, and at that time it was unthinkable to marry someone else, I had to marry him.”

By the time of the wedding, she already knew who her future husband was. She realized that her submissiveness condemned her to life with a womanizer and a drunkard, but she had no other choice, but to suffer.

Anna’s assistant in the astral, who called herself Hildegard, expanded Anna’s story, “Her marriage to that man was a nightmare! She gave birth to eight babies, while suffering from constant domestic insults caused by his terrible jealousy.”

As I mentioned already, when my grandfather served in Caucasus alpine mountains, he earned of the reputation of a fearless warrior, but something made him switch the occupations… Once, my mama dropped a word, as if speaking more to herself than to me that it was his financial situation that made him a God’s servant. I think, his quite theatrical personality equipped with storytelling talent bolstered nicely his financial decision, but what about God, would God accept such loud servant, who in his heart would never stop longing for military uniform and his wars’ unrestricted adventurousness? Piotr’s former army buddies were frequent guests in Piotr’s home, and he believed that they made advances to her young and beautiful wife, as Anna was a real beauty. They were still splendid officers and he was only a pop! His jealousy was fed by overall low standing of the Russian Church in the Russian society.

Russian Church reformation never occurred openly, but, nevertheless, its shadow was cast by Ivan the Terrible, the contemporary of Henry VIII’s, the reformer of Church of England. Ivan the IV murdered the Moscow metropolitan, the Head of the Russian Church, the spiritual counterpart of the tsar himself, Philipp II. The Metropolitan was tsar’s childhood friend, stemming from a Moscow finest boyar’s family. His fall  happened after he refused to bless publicly Ivan’s massacre of Novgorod.

(Novgorod’s veche contemplated separation from Moscow power. Ivan’s unprecedented  massacre uprooted all seeds of any kind of free thinking, democracy, free city’s self-rule — veche. After Ivan’s massacre, the free city Novgorod would never regain its status, freedom, nor its wealth! I think, this event started Russian monarchy secret “war” against its own church to continue unofficial, secret uprooting potential nests of svobodomisliya – free thinking and spiritual education. limiting its role in society, no chances of svobodomisliya – freethinking, developing enlightenment movements or cultivate fine spirituality. This invisible, not fully recognized, not fully researched or documented pressure turned the Russian Church into “The Church of Poor and Beggars.” The priests became “pops” and their wives — “papadyas”, like “Papageno” and “Papagena” in Mozart’s “Magic Flute”.  And this was the underlying social situation that turned Father Piotr’s inborn bravery into dark Satanic anger.

A brief deviation from our story. The overall humiliation of the Russian Church had unexpected consequences. In long run, it started to bread deprivation and poverty as way of life of these whom it served – the Russian commoners. Because, since the times of execution of Philipp II, the Metropolitan of Church of Russia, who came from the the upper part of society, the tables turned, and the “ideology” of beggars, their attitude started to shape the church’s spirit. I will put here the real reason of the Russian historic alcoholism what was supported by many lesser factors, like tax politics: selling more and more cheap vodka in order to fill the Russian “federal reserve” – tsar’s kaznaa.  Later, the Soviets sold more cheap vodka to cover economic disasters, along the way dulling people, locked up behind “the grandest of all partitions,” the ill-famous “iron curtain”!

Hildegard continued her report on Anna’s life. Piotr felt that for him, there was no comparison with his former friends! They were the splendid officers and he was a provincial “pop” wearing his military medal next to cross on his priest’s garb. And he beat his beautiful wife mercilessly trying to destroy her beautiful face. He dragged her by the hair, she was bruised. Was she a beauty now? Frequent pregnancies and fear to anger his husband were aging her quickly. Discussing her future in the astral world , Anna was asking for the spinsterhood in her next incarnation! No more marriages, because enough was enough for her. Eight pregnancies, one kid died in infancy, the youngest son Ivan, her Vanechka (nickname for Ivan), was shot under their very eyes by Kronstadt sailors. (Piotr’s sons were accepted to attend exclusive military school as descendants of general Michelson). The other six kids were alienated from her. Her husband continued to beat her until the eldest son, Viktor, stood up for his mother, threatening, if his father would raise his hand again, he, the son, would avenge her with gusto! Father Piotr stopped beating Anna, but soon enough, he found another way to torture her.

In the presence of his children and Anna, Father Piotr started abusing verbally aristocrats, putting in his words all his passion, bitterness and anger. Gradually, he turned the children against their mother, and impact of his oral abuse did not stop there. The negativity of husband’s words was transforming mother’s natural love toward her children into lukewarm indifference. Piotr continued systematically curse aristocrats, as if preventing the mother’s union with her children that could any minute turn against him.

It is not difficult to guess that Anna was the real target of Piotr’s scolds of nobility , because Anna was the granddaughter of the colonel  Ivan Ivanovich Michelson, who suppressed Emelian Pugachev’s uprising, arrested Pugachev and handed him over to the authorities. The empress Ekaterina the Great awarded the colonel with the large estate in Vitebsk province and a gold sword adorned with diamonds “for the defeat of the Pugachev’s uprising.”  Regrettably, the Michelson’s son, unfit to run an estate desolated this invaluable gift.

Definitely, this desolation eased Piotr’s access to Anna, and he took full advantage of it.  Yes, he knew how to rape a 17-year-old beauty, but he was never able to suppress the subtleties in her that are transmitted genetically. Anna did not fell to the level with her husband’s world filled with vodka, rough violence and loose women. They never became equal.

Hildegard did more than revealed the sad truth about the Anna’s marriage. She proposed an interesting way, how to turn my meditation into a unique healing session, as Anna was in the serious need to be healed. I was gently reminded that Anna talked openly about her marriage to satisfy my curiosity, not for her benefit. In other words, now it was my turn to thank her!

Anna’s guides proposed to use a combination of a “flycatcher” with the burning furnace beneath it. Both, a screen and a furnace were produced by the power of imagination, as things are brought to life in astral world. These things are “real” and visible in the astral world. On earth, I cannot see them with my normal sight, but my “third eye” gets them effortlessly.

A large astral screen was suspended from the ceiling across my studio, beneath stood an astral field stove with open entrance from the top. I was told to touch gently white, slightly ribbed surface of the screen. Since I’m still in the body, I confess, having touched our imaginary screen, I did not have enough sensitivity to feel anything, which I admitted to Anna’s helpers honestly. They laughed and offered to compare this screen with a country kitchen in hot summertime when there was a lot of flies. The hostess hangs a sticky roller on the kitchen lamp shade. The other end of roller falls freely down, freeing the sticky tape in all its length. Flies rush toward honey-smelling sticky tape to be glued to it stay there for good!

Anna’s helpers explained that the screen was also covered with a special “solution” which was emanating waves of certain frequency that corresponded to the frequency of Anna husband’s shouting. It would attract like magnet the memory of the real shouts that sat in Anna’s mind like dark flies causing her constant depression, pain and sicknesses.  The problem was how to get these “flies” out of Anna’s head?

I was obligated to resolve this problem. I decided to rely on my empathy toward Anna’s situation and GOLDEN LIGHT! I asked for help praying to Mother Mary and something resonated in me. My prayer became louder, more purposeful. I continued calling in more and more light, I called light for Anna, for more and more light, I called for LIGHT! And suddenly the air was full of screams, curses and yelling. The word “aristocrat” was repeated so often that the sounds forming this word merged into a kind of continuous buzz that blocked all other sounds. The stream of verbal drunken abuse literally flied toward the screen, hitting the screen in a swing! Now the black spots were all over the screen dripping down with dirty sticky jets, and finally freezing. To me they represent the bitterness of the Russian eternal irritation, a powerful anti-constructive, ruinous force that no one can stop, or fathom its essence.

I was suggested to move the loops on which the screen was suspended, to tighten the lower edge into a “bouquet”, and lower it through the open top into the field stove’s flame and wait until fire would burn entire screen to ashes.

………………………..

Partition

The communist’s totalitarian regime, war and post-war years of hunger and destitute changed our living conditions.  Now we lived in an old two-room house with a kitchen. I remember only this kitchen. A thin partition cut from that kitchen a narrow, oblong space for my father’s mother. You met her in my previous blog “Meditation in memory of my paternal grandmother Luba”.

It could hold only granny’s chest of drawers, а small handmade table of Karelian birch, a chip of the empire, as it was called jokingly, and an old armchair by the window and a narrow bed. On the other side of this partition, in the kitchen, there was a table covered with oilcloth. It served as our dinner table and mother’s two sisters, Zhenya and Valya gathering spot. During the war, they sought refuge under my mother’s wing, and after the war ended in May, 1945 they continued their stay helping mother, now the widow, to handle the situation. My father was killed some month shy of war’s end.

The two sisters behind that oilcloth-table spoke loudly so that their words could be heard through the thin partition into the grandmother’s room. They talked hours, turning it in about 5 pm when mother was expected to return home. And they spoke only about one thing ­– the aristocrats, whom they scolded in any thinkable way. They spent their free time allotted them by our life schedule. They could do whatever they liked to do. But all they wanted was to scold the aristocrats. They wanted to annoy grandmother Luba, who stemmed from old noble family with its own coat-of-arms and history of family rise and fall. Their disparagement of aristocrats was aimed against Luba, as their father’s same line of talk was aimed to hurt his wife Anna. As I took Luba’s side, and hid in her room behind the partition I got my share of criticism as well. They were grownup people, I was ten years old who got for her birthday, her first anniversary, the very special “gift” – the government notification that my father had become war casualty. This gift was topped by loud senseless scorn what I heard on the day-by-day bases three years in a row. It built my sharp aversion to vulgarity. Ironically, later it would make me a decent film critic who recognized both opposing ends, vulgarity and talent on the screen instantaneously and solely by intuition — before public opinion, good or bad, could mar the clarity of my perception. I needed nobody’s advice or opinion to write my reviews. After seeing a film, all I had to do was find right words to express my feel about it.  The independence of the perception was quite rare thing under the communist tutelage. Of course, soon enough I started pay the price for this independence, but this was another story that did not belong here.

Finally, my aunts excommunicated me from their family as “Luba’s grandchild” and declared my little brother to be their prince and pet kid and they instilled in him his anti-aristocratic views vigorously. In other words, they created the partition between me and my brother. And it took about… 60 years to tear it down.

The senseless cursing of unfortunate aristocrats continued, but the day came when I asked, who were these so profoundly hated people? My instinct told me that deep down my aunts were terribly envious, maybe they themselves wanted to be these cursed and vilified aristocrats? So, I hoped that my grandmother would clarify the issue for me. She frowned, took her stack of warn cards, and began to lay out her favorite solitaire of a hangman, which very rarely converged and lasted for ages. The grandmother’s library was already completely ruined, and Dumas’ novels, which would quite satisfactorily explain everything, good and bad, about aristocrats were gone as well. But granny Luba managed to safe three invaluable volumes of the first editions of Pushkin’s, Lermontov’s and Gogol’ collections of works. She managed to save these three invaluable volumes through all the vicissitudes of socio-historical cataclysms. As I repeat my question what the word aristocrat means grandmother found in her drawer the Pushkin’s volume, opened it on the first page of the poem “Ruslan and Lyudmila,” handed it to me commanding, “Read it!” and returned to her hangman’s solitaire. From the kitchen we heard the usual scolding of aristocrats.

From the hands of my grandmother I took the volume and started reading the first poem of Pushkin.  I did not realize yet that I was holding in my hand a classic book — the most powerful tool, the most effective defense against life vulgarity and seeming meaninglessness. I did not realize yet that these three volumes will guide me to another world, another height of thinking, another everything!

Sometimes, when the voices from the kitchen became particularly loud, I looked attentively at my grandmother. She was a strong woman, and never descended to the level of her opponents behind the partition. She never – not once – judged or discussed the statements that reached her ears from behind the kitchen partition — sole purpose of which was to offend and prick her! The nightmare of this one-sided duel ended quickly when one of my mother’s sisters left us finding a better place to stay.

The most ironic aspect of this story is that both my aunts were kind women. After entering the workforce, aunt Zhenya submissively gave her entire salary to our common table. All this kitchen dishonor of the nobility was an alluvial skin on the body of their spirituality. It was sewn from the vocabulary of the Russian revolutionaries, their agitation flyers, from the very spirit of the Russian rebellion that a caprice of history or the will of Almighty froze into a new form of governing called “the proletarian dictatorship”! Do not start me on that! We got the tyranny of Lenin and Stalin. An American historian, sorry I forgot his name, invented a slippery maxim: “Stalin received a country with a wooden plow, but surrendered it with an atomic bomb!” The facts are true, but the spirit of this adagio is more than questionable. It was also the truth that Russia with a wooden plow fed entire Europe, but Russia with an atomic bomb was fed by Argentina! Did Russia need that nuclear arsenal, did world need it? Are you sure, it does? Maybe the present word do not need the revolutions either, and  it is time to put the trust in evolution instead of revolutionary massacres?

 

Russia needed freedom, education, housing, hospitals, roads and rebuilding of its infrastructure. Revolution gave it Gulags and atomic bombs instead! I see Stalin as a tyrant who used partitions and hunger as a super effective and unique ruling method. The entire nation – I mean it —  the entire nation was dispersed across the cheapest of the cheap nightmarish communal apartments and Gulags. Partition system made it easy to know about everybody everything, as the Bolshevik regime needed informers and denunciations to stay! The apartments of the formal riches were divided by partitions to about 10-20-30 or more narrow rooms with one collective kitchen and one toilet to all — and every such room went for an family “apartment”. This hellish situation lasted long enough to put schizophrenia and paranoia on the list of nation’s frequently occurring illnesses.

The proletarian dictatorship killed not only the hated aristocrats and nobles, but many classless qualities of man – love, dignity, beauty, honor, spirituality, empathy, genuine education, the very development of man’s spirituality. We are not a loved nation, but we are despised not for lack of something, not for, say, Crimean affair, but for the loss of our dignity and spirituality! In the communist world, the human dignity was put behind these partitions where it wilted — perhaps for centuries, perhaps – for good!

Wikipedia about clergy destiny during the years of the Red Terror 1918-1922

Members of the clergy were subjected to particularly brutal abuse. According to documents cited by the late Alexander Yakovlev, then head of the Presidential Committee for the Rehabilitation of Victims of Political Repression, priests, monks and nuns were crucified, thrown into cauldrons of boiling tar, scalped, strangled, given Communion with melted lead and drowned in holes in the ice. An estimated 3,000 were put to death in 1918 alone.

 

The end of Piotr’s and Anna’s marriage is worth to be mentioned here, as it was in tune with everything that happened during that “dark night” of the Russian national soul. From the start of the revolution, communists started to eradicate clergy and close Russian orthodox churches. When Piotr’s youngest son Ivan who whispered, “Papa, papa, I am innocent, tell them, I am innocent” was murdered by Kronstadt’s sailors* under Piotr’s very eyes, Piotr decided to flee with entire family leaving his sickly wife Anna behind, because of her heart condition, or so it was said.

Anna, to be precise, her spirit told what did happen to her after her husband fled with his children crossing in that boat the lake Peipsi and landing in Estonia.

Anna’s story

“He lied to me, he said that everything will be over in three days, and they will be back. Alcohol had turned him into a coward. He fled out of fear, he took his family into nowhere, and they were humiliated and suffered in Estonia! They were mocked and robbed, but their hearts still did not soften toward me, as none of them had asked what did happen to me after they left.

 

The house was suddenly empty, and I went to visit my friend Nadia, a widow of a neighboring village priest. She greeted me, she prepared a tasty dinner, we ate, talked and she made a bed for me. And then it happened again. A gang of Kronstadt’s sailors broke into Nadya’s house as well. They turned everything upside down looking for something valuable. Finding nothing, they shot Nadia dead and as I was in the bed, at least five sailors raped me.

They tossed me into their car and reaching an open field far away from villages they threw me into a ditch alongside the road. I managed to crawl out of that ditch and they car ran me over before I stopped feeling a thing. They were on the robbing spree and did not intend leave alive witnesses behind, in case, if the war tribunal would catch up with them.

Now we were again all together in afterlife, but I am not able to forgive my husband – none of this, mostly, terrible fate of my children… Tatyana, you know it too well, what had happened to them in country of the strangers. Some of it happened to you in Estonia as well, I looked it up how you worked for them, and how you fed your nephew, a growing boy solely with the rice porridge…

Hildegard kept her word, despite Anna’s lack of English, she was invited to work and study in one of the best astral hospitals. Of course, she accepted the offer with deepest and most sincere gratitude. It happened some months ago. I was told that Anna is fine, that she is working and learning and slowly recovering and agreed to learn for the starters the skills of a midwife. She is polite to everybody, she is in contact with family, she had thanked her guides and me for the healing, saying that it made her young again!

They offered a parish to Piotr, in a place known for its spectacular views. However, this offer was accompanied by a strict condition – to be cured of alcoholism. He was spoken to by saints from Russian hierarchy. They suggested to be honest with himself, and when the day would arrive when he would see himself through the eyes of people whom he had hurt, it would be right moment seek a decent rehabilitation center. Their meeting was concluded with the following words, “You need to want passionately to be cured, otherwise no treatment will help. Priests are needed in Russia, the doors will be open to you”.

… Someone has blamed me recently for my hot temper, saying that sometimes I become loud like a wild Russian, who yell, accuse, judge, charge, call names having no reason to be… so open! Probably the person was right. I was working on it, I was learning to walk away instead of exploding, because, I started doubting that it was my mission to educate everybody regarding his or her faultiness! But how to recount this so strict accusation right now? I said, “After all, I’m the granddaughter of my grandfather!” And there he was, Piotr’s spirit appeared in my room immediately. It was not a secret that he disliked me, if I put it mildly. So, I braced myself for a sharp duel of opinions.

However, instead, he made a quite surprising statement. “So, you still recognize my blood in your blood vessels! For this, everything is forgiven to you. Take care of my girls! I will pray to reverse my courses away from you!”

These are our Russian ways. In order to survive we need the patience of our grandmothers, and in order to release our yoke of betrayals, drunkenness, plundering, reckless stealing, swagger, baseless conceit, we can use the wild power of our grandfathers as well… before we can start listing instead of our faults, our real achievements.

In one of these days, Yogananda, I mean, his spirit, dropped by. I, the sick doubter, asked him for a favor to read and check the Anna’s story about her death, if I got it right! Maybe, writing down what she told me, I added some unwillingly?  How this quiet woman got such patience and such terrible karma? Yogananda asked to show him Anna’s portrait. He sat down on the sofa to study my old family album. Such a strong energy was dispersed from his concentration that for a moment, I saw him as if he was there in flesh. Finally, he announced his verdict. “Her story is true to the last detail. When looters’ car moved her twice, she already felt nothing, she got it all later. In her marriage, she unleashed her monastic karma, which included terrible punishments of nuns for sexual crimes. She was offered to either be born as a man like Piotr, or to be born as a patient woman. She chose the path of suffering and passed her lessons with a rare dignity. Her patience will make her a good and sought after nurse. She will be financially secure person when Europe begins to recover after the upcoming defeat.

* Kronstadt sailors did more than robbed, raped and murdered, they were called stronghold of Petersburg revolutionaries. “The Kronstadt Uprising” in year 1921 demanded “the Soviets without Bolsheviks – freedom of speech, control over government actions and improvement of economic situation in the country.”
Wikipedia writes about Bolshevik’s answer to these demands : “On March 19, 1921 the Bolshevik forces took full control of the city of Kronstadt after having suffered fatalities ranging from 527 to 1,412, or higher.(…) Although there are no reliable figures for rebel battle losses, historians estimate that from 1,200–2,168 persons were executed after the revolt and a similar number were jailed. Soviet figures claim approximately 1,000 rebels were killed, 2,000 wounded and from 2,300–6,528 captured, with 6,000–8,000 defecting to Finland. (…) Their large number was causing the first big refugee problem for the newly independent state.

A note from the author:  About the main cause of the Russian revolution: I believe , this single photo of hungry children says it all! At the same time, the Russian experience teaches that a revolution sows cruelty that can exceed the cruelty of the most terrible monarchs whom revolutionaries aim to dethrone.  Study of the Russian revolution and its consequences can contribute to stopping the idealization of revolutions as the method to renovation of society, there has to be other, less destructive ways to improve life.

I started out writing a very personal story of Anna, my maternal grandmother. But to my surprise, the memory of this small, quiet and patient women asked for explanatory excursions to many forgotten corners of Russian history.  It revealed that an individual destiny’s conflict with the atrocities of monarchs or revolutionaries is inevitable, especially in times of  upheavals and uprisings and civil wars. I was not prepared to look into this, and I could write this story only with help of Wikipedia articles. The paradox is that these were the fantastic revelations that surfaced during the most occult meditations that led me to look up twists and turns and facts of history to make sense of stories of individual souls’ search for redemption, repentant and healing.

 

 

The Meditation in Memory of my Grandmother Anna

Anna, my maternal grandmother, was a quiet and patient woman whom I did not see on earth. My mother never spoke about her, so did my mother’s siblings — my uncles and aunts who escaped from the Russian Civil War in 1918 to Estonia. They got Nansen passports and odd jobs were their only source of income. I remember noticing that they spoke often about their father Piotr, Anna’s husband, the undoubted authority in their eyes, and never mentioned their mother, as if she did not exist at all. Today I am over eighty. I live in the USA, and as a medium I hear voices of spirits and angels and I had appealed for spirits’ help to find Anna in the subtle world and introduce me to her, because I wanted to know who was my mother’s mother, and what I had inherited from her.

In short, here is Anna’s story. Her husband, my maternal grandfather served in the Caucasus, but for some reason, he replaced his military uniform with the priest’s attire. He was a loud man, who managed to secure for himself the central position in the family. But when I started asking questions how passive Anna and aggressive Piotr managed to coexist without divorcing or separating, several guardian angels offered me a special meditation to learn more about Anna. Will I recognize her in me? Do I carry some of her traits?

Meeting the spirit of Anna, my maternal grandmother

March 3, 2017

My aunt Zhenya, now also in the spirit world, brought her mother Anna to my place. As a medium, I can ask questions and receive answers from the spirits, that is, to engage in a dialogue with a chatting spirit like we converse with someone over the phone. The audibility of a spirit talk may fluctuate, sometimes spirit voices are quiet, hard to hear, but sometimes they sound as clearly, as coming from someone in flesh in my room. Usually, the longer you talk with a spirit, the better the audibility becomes. The legendary direct voice medium Leslie Flint had spoken about this condition of spirit communication – the spirit voices can be heard clearly, or vaguely depending on many conditions, like weather or the compatibility of medium’s and spirit voice’s wave frequencies.

Sometimes I see a spirit, with whom I talk, but not always. For instance, I wanted to see Anna, but she was not letting to see her, and I could sense that I was dealing with a reserved and impeccably polite person who took refuge in a protective shell. Nevertheless, Anna showed a sincere interest in meditation. As usual, I asked the Anna’s guardian angels, or her spirit helpers to come closer, join us, provide us with protection and determine the topic of meditation, from which Anna could derive some benefits.

Meditating, the first thing I saw was a bookshelf from floor to ceiling, packed with books. Did Anna see the same shelf, or did I see it because Anna chose to hint at something important about herself? Instantaneously, I recalled similar shelves in the library of my grandmother Luba, when she lived in her home in Paide, Estonia, before the arrival of the Reds. And per the same association, I asked Anna, “Do you come from the Russian nobility?” Anna confirmed. To me it seemed strange that I heard this for the first time in my eighties and already living decades in the USA. Why did none of her children, my mother included, did not talk about it? I broke off the meditation, and asked, where she met her future husband.

After some hesitation, as if getting my unspoken question, “If you are a noblewoman, how did you manage to become a widow of the priest, as people call them — papadya?” Overcoming some restrictions in her mind, she, finally spelled out the truth. “I met him on our estate. I was 17 years old. He raped me, and at that time it was unthinkable to marry someone else, I had to marry him.”

By the time of the wedding, she already knew who her future husband was. She realized that her submissiveness condemned her to life with a womanizer and a drunkard, but she had no other choice, but to suffer.

Anna’s assistant in the astral, who called herself Hildegard, expanded Anna’s story, “Her marriage to that man was a nightmare! She gave birth to eight babies, while suffering from constant domestic insults caused by his terrible jealousy.”

As I mentioned already, when my grandfather served in Caucasus alpine mountains, he earned of the reputation of a fearless warrior, but something made him switch the occupations… Once, my mama dropped a word, as if speaking more to herself than to me that it was his financial situation that made him a God’s servant. I think, his quite theatrical personality equipped with storytelling talent bolstered nicely his financial decision, but what about God, would God accept such loud servant, who in his heart would never stop longing for military uniform and his wars’ unrestricted adventurousness? Piotr’s former army buddies were frequent guests in Piotr’s home, and he believed that they made advances to her young and beautiful wife, as Anna was a real beauty. They were still splendid officers and he was only a pop! His jealousy was fed by overall low standing of the Russian Church in the Russian society.

Russian Church reformation never occurred openly, but, nevertheless, its shadow was cast by Ivan the Terrible, the contemporary of Henry VIII’s, the reformer of Church of England. Ivan the IV murdered the Moscow metropolitan, the Head of the Russian Church, the spiritual counterpart of the tsar himself, Philipp II. The Metropolitan was tsar’s childhood friend, stemming from a Moscow finest boyar’s family. His fall  happened after he refused to bless publicly Ivan’s massacre of Novgorod.

(Novgorod’s veche contemplated separation from Moscow power. Ivan’s unprecedented  massacre uprooted all seeds of any kind of free thinking, democracy, free city’s self-rule — veche. After Ivan’s massacre, the free city Novgorod would never regain its status, freedom, nor its wealth! I think, this event started Russian monarchy secret “war” against its own church to continue unofficial, secret uprooting potential nests of svobodomisliya – free thinking and spiritual education. limiting its role in society, no chances of svobodomisliya – freethinking, developing enlightenment movements or cultivate fine spirituality. This invisible, not fully recognized, not fully researched or documented pressure turned the Russian Church into “The Church of Poor and Beggars.” The priests became “pops” and their wives — “papadyas”, like “Papageno” and “Papagena” in Mozart’s “Magic Flute”.  And this was the underlying social situation that turned Father Piotr’s inborn bravery into dark Satanic anger.

A brief deviation from our story. The overall humiliation of the Russian Church had unexpected consequences. In long run, it started to bread deprivation and poverty as way of life of these whom it served – the Russian commoners. Because, since the times of execution of Philipp II, the Metropolitan of Church of Russia, who came from the the upper part of society, the tables turned, and the “ideology” of beggars, their attitude started to shape the church’s spirit. I will put here the real reason of the Russian historic alcoholism what was supported by many lesser factors, like tax politics: selling more and more cheap vodka in order to fill the Russian “federal reserve” – tsar’s kaznaa.  Later, the Soviets sold more cheap vodka to cover economic disasters, along the way dulling people, locked up behind “the grandest of all partitions,” the ill-famous “iron curtain”!

Hildegard continued her report on Anna’s life. Piotr felt that for him, there was no comparison with his former friends! They were the splendid officers and he was a provincial “pop” wearing his military medal next to cross on his priest’s garb. And he beat his beautiful wife mercilessly trying to destroy her beautiful face. He dragged her by the hair, she was bruised. Was she a beauty now? Frequent pregnancies and fear to anger his husband were aging her quickly. Discussing her future in the astral world , Anna was asking for the spinsterhood in her next incarnation! No more marriages, because enough was enough for her. Eight pregnancies, one kid died in infancy, the youngest son Ivan, her Vanechka (nickname for Ivan), was shot under their very eyes by Kronstadt sailors. (Piotr’s sons were accepted to attend exclusive military school as descendants of general Michelson). The other six kids were alienated from her. Her husband continued to beat her until the eldest son, Viktor, stood up for his mother, threatening, if his father would raise his hand again, he, the son, would avenge her with gusto! Father Piotr stopped beating Anna, but soon enough, he found another way to torture her.

In the presence of his children and Anna, Father Piotr started abusing verbally aristocrats, putting in his words all his passion, bitterness and anger. Gradually, he turned the children against their mother, and impact of his oral abuse did not stop there. The negativity of husband’s words was transforming mother’s natural love toward her children into lukewarm indifference. Piotr continued systematically curse aristocrats, as if preventing the mother’s union with her children that could any minute turn against him.

It is not difficult to guess that Anna was the real target of Piotr’s scolds of nobility , because Anna was the granddaughter of the colonel  Ivan Ivanovich Michelson, who suppressed Emelian Pugachev’s uprising, arrested Pugachev and handed him over to the authorities. The empress Ekaterina the Great awarded the colonel with the large estate in Vitebsk province and a gold sword adorned with diamonds “for the defeat of the Pugachev’s uprising.”  Regrettably, the Michelson’s son, unfit to run an estate desolated this invaluable gift.

Definitely, this desolation eased Piotr’s access to Anna, and he took full advantage of it.  Yes, he knew how to rape a 17-year-old beauty, but he was never able to suppress the subtleties in her that are transmitted genetically. Anna did not fell to the level with her husband’s world filled with vodka, rough violence and loose women. They never became equal.

Hildegard did more than revealed the sad truth about the Anna’s marriage. She proposed an interesting way, how to turn my meditation into a unique healing session, as Anna was in the serious need to be healed. I was gently reminded that Anna talked openly about her marriage to satisfy my curiosity, not for her benefit. In other words, now it was my turn to thank her!

Anna’s guides proposed to use a combination of a “flycatcher” with the burning furnace beneath it. Both, a screen and a furnace were produced by the power of imagination, as things are brought to life in astral world. These things are “real” and visible in the astral world. On earth, I cannot see them with my normal sight, but my “third eye” gets them effortlessly.

A large astral screen was suspended from the ceiling across my studio, beneath stood an astral field stove with open entrance from the top. I was told to touch gently white, slightly ribbed surface of the screen. Since I’m still in the body, I confess, having touched our imaginary screen, I did not have enough sensitivity to feel anything, which I admitted to Anna’s helpers honestly. They laughed and offered to compare this screen with a country kitchen in hot summertime when there was a lot of flies. The hostess hangs a sticky roller on the kitchen lamp shade. The other end of roller falls freely down, freeing the sticky tape in all its length. Flies rush toward honey-smelling sticky tape to be glued to it stay there for good!

Anna’s helpers explained that the screen was also covered with a special “solution” which was emanating waves of certain frequency that corresponded to the frequency of Anna husband’s shouting. It would attract like magnet the memory of the real shouts that sat in Anna’s mind like dark flies causing her constant depression, pain and sicknesses.  The problem was how to get these “flies” out of Anna’s head?

I was obligated to resolve this problem. I decided to rely on my empathy toward Anna’s situation and GOLDEN LIGHT! I asked for help praying to Mother Mary and something resonated in me. My prayer became louder, more purposeful. I continued calling in more and more light, I called light for Anna, for more and more light, I called for LIGHT! And suddenly the air was full of screams, curses and yelling. The word “aristocrat” was repeated so often that the sounds forming this word merged into a kind of continuous buzz that blocked all other sounds. The stream of verbal drunken abuse literally flied toward the screen, hitting the screen in a swing! Now the black spots were all over the screen dripping down with dirty sticky jets, and finally freezing. To me they represent the bitterness of the Russian eternal irritation, a powerful anti-constructive, ruinous force that no one can stop, or fathom its essence.

I was suggested to move the loops on which the screen was suspended, to tighten the lower edge into a “bouquet”, and lower it through the open top into the field stove’s flame and wait until fire would burn entire screen to ashes.

………………………..

Partition

The communist’s totalitarian regime, war and post-war years of hunger and destitute changed our living conditions.  Now we lived in an old two-room house with a kitchen. I remember only this kitchen. A thin partition cut from that kitchen a narrow, oblong space for my father’s mother. You met her in my previous blog “Meditation in memory of my paternal grandmother Luba”.

It could hold only granny’s chest of drawers, а small handmade table of Karelian birch, a chip of the empire, as it was called jokingly, and an old armchair by the window and a narrow bed. On the other side of this partition, in the kitchen, there was a table covered with oilcloth. It served as our dinner table and mother’s two sisters, Zhenya and Valya gathering spot. During the war, they sought refuge under my mother’s wing, and after the war ended in May, 1945 they continued their stay helping mother, now the widow, to handle the situation. My father was killed some month shy of war’s end.

The two sisters behind that oilcloth-table spoke loudly so that their words could be heard through the thin partition into the grandmother’s room. They talked hours, turning it in about 5 pm when mother was expected to return home. And they spoke only about one thing ­– the aristocrats, whom they scolded in any thinkable way. They spent their free time allotted them by our life schedule. They could do whatever they liked to do. But all they wanted was to scold the aristocrats. They wanted to annoy grandmother Luba, who stemmed from old noble family with its own coat-of-arms and history of family rise and fall. Their disparagement of aristocrats was aimed against Luba, as their father’s same line of talk was aimed to hurt his wife Anna. As I took Luba’s side, and hid in her room behind the partition I got my share of criticism as well. They were grownup people, I was ten years old who got for her birthday, her first anniversary, the very special “gift” – the government notification that my father had become war casualty. This gift was topped by loud senseless scorn what I heard on the day-by-day bases three years in a row. It built my sharp aversion to vulgarity. Ironically, later it would make me a decent film critic who recognized both opposing ends, vulgarity and talent on the screen instantaneously and solely by intuition — before public opinion, good or bad, could mar the clarity of my perception. I needed nobody’s advice or opinion to write my reviews. After seeing a film, all I had to do was find right words to express my feel about it.  The independence of the perception was quite rare thing under the communist tutelage. Of course, soon enough I started pay the price for this independence, but this was another story that did not belong here.

Finally, my aunts excommunicated me from their family as “Luba’s grandchild” and declared my little brother to be their prince and pet kid and they instilled in him his anti-aristocratic views vigorously. In other words, they created the partition between me and my brother. And it took about… 60 years to tear it down.

The senseless cursing of unfortunate aristocrats continued, but the day came when I asked, who were these so profoundly hated people? My instinct told me that deep down my aunts were terribly envious, maybe they themselves wanted to be these cursed and vilified aristocrats? So, I hoped that my grandmother would clarify the issue for me. She frowned, took her stack of warn cards, and began to lay out her favorite solitaire of a hangman, which very rarely converged and lasted for ages. The grandmother’s library was already completely ruined, and Dumas’ novels, which would quite satisfactorily explain everything, good and bad, about aristocrats were gone as well. But granny Luba managed to safe three invaluable volumes of the first editions of Pushkin’s, Lermontov’s and Gogol’ collections of works. She managed to save these three invaluable volumes through all the vicissitudes of socio-historical cataclysms. As I repeat my question what the word aristocrat means grandmother found in her drawer the Pushkin’s volume, opened it on the first page of the poem “Ruslan and Lyudmila,” handed it to me commanding, “Read it!” and returned to her hangman’s solitaire. From the kitchen we heard the usual scolding of aristocrats.

From the hands of my grandmother I took the volume and started reading the first poem of Pushkin.  I did not realize yet that I was holding in my hand a classic book — the most powerful tool, the most effective defense against life vulgarity and seeming meaninglessness. I did not realize yet that these three volumes will guide me to another world, another height of thinking, another everything!

Sometimes, when the voices from the kitchen became particularly loud, I looked attentively at my grandmother. She was a strong woman, and never descended to the level of her opponents behind the partition. She never – not once – judged or discussed the statements that reached her ears from behind the kitchen partition — sole purpose of which was to offend and prick her! The nightmare of this one-sided duel ended quickly when one of my mother’s sisters left us finding a better place to stay.

The most ironic aspect of this story is that both my aunts were kind women. After entering the workforce, aunt Zhenya submissively gave her entire salary to our common table. All this kitchen dishonor of the nobility was an alluvial skin on the body of their spirituality. It was sewn from the vocabulary of the Russian revolutionaries, their agitation flyers, from the very spirit of the Russian rebellion that a caprice of history or the will of Almighty froze into a new form of governing called “the proletarian dictatorship”! Do not start me on that! We got the tyranny of Lenin and Stalin. An American historian, sorry I forgot his name, invented a slippery maxim: “Stalin received a country with a wooden plow, but surrendered it with an atomic bomb!” The facts are true, but the spirit of this adagio is more than questionable. It was also the truth that Russia with a wooden plow fed entire Europe, but Russia with an atomic bomb was fed by Argentina! Did Russia need that nuclear arsenal, did world need it? Are you sure, it does? Maybe the present word do not need the revolutions either, and  it is time to put the trust in evolution instead of revolutionary massacres?

 

Russia needed freedom, education, housing, hospitals, roads and rebuilding of its infrastructure. Revolution gave it Gulags and atomic bombs instead! I see Stalin as a tyrant who used partitions and hunger as a super effective and unique ruling method. The entire nation – I mean it —  the entire nation was dispersed across the cheapest of the cheap nightmarish communal apartments and Gulags. Partition system made it easy to know about everybody everything, as the Bolshevik regime needed informers and denunciations to stay! The apartments of the formal riches were divided by partitions to about 10-20-30 or more narrow rooms with one collective kitchen and one toilet to all — and every such room went for an family “apartment”. This hellish situation lasted long enough to put schizophrenia and paranoia on the list of nation’s frequently occurring illnesses.

The proletarian dictatorship killed not only the hated aristocrats and nobles, but many classless qualities of man – love, dignity, beauty, honor, spirituality, empathy, genuine education, the very development of man’s spirituality. We are not a loved nation, but we are despised not for lack of something, not for, say, Crimean affair, but for the loss of our dignity and spirituality! In the communist world, the human dignity was put behind these partitions where it wilted — perhaps for centuries, perhaps – for good!

Wikipedia about clergy destiny during the years of the Red Terror 1918-1922

Members of the clergy were subjected to particularly brutal abuse. According to documents cited by the late Alexander Yakovlev, then head of the Presidential Committee for the Rehabilitation of Victims of Political Repression, priests, monks and nuns were crucified, thrown into cauldrons of boiling tar, scalped, strangled, given Communion with melted lead and drowned in holes in the ice. An estimated 3,000 were put to death in 1918 alone.

 

The end of Piotr’s and Anna’s marriage is worth to be mentioned here, as it was in tune with everything that happened during that “dark night” of the Russian national soul. From the start of the revolution, communists started to eradicate clergy and close Russian orthodox churches. When Piotr’s youngest son Ivan who whispered, “Papa, papa, I am innocent, tell them, I am innocent” was murdered by Kronstadt’s sailors* under Piotr’s very eyes, Piotr decided to flee with entire family leaving his sickly wife Anna behind, because of her heart condition, or so it was said.

Anna, to be precise, her spirit told what did happen to her after her husband fled with his children crossing in that boat the lake Peipsi and landing in Estonia.

Anna’s story

“He lied to me, he said that everything will be over in three days, and they will be back. Alcohol had turned him into a coward. He fled out of fear, he took his family into nowhere, and they were humiliated and suffered in Estonia! They were mocked and robbed, but their hearts still did not soften toward me, as none of them had asked what did happen to me after they left.

 

The house was suddenly empty, and I went to visit my friend Nadia, a widow of a neighboring village priest. She greeted me, she prepared a tasty dinner, we ate, talked and she made a bed for me. And then it happened again. A gang of Kronstadt’s sailors broke into Nadya’s house as well. They turned everything upside down looking for something valuable. Finding nothing, they shot Nadia dead and as I was in the bed, at least five sailors raped me.

They tossed me into their car and reaching an open field far away from villages they threw me into a ditch alongside the road. I managed to crawl out of that ditch and they car ran me over before I stopped feeling a thing. They were on the robbing spree and did not intend leave alive witnesses behind, in case, if the war tribunal would catch up with them.

Now we were again all together in afterlife, but I am not able to forgive my husband – none of this, mostly, terrible fate of my children… Tatyana, you know it too well, what had happened to them in country of the strangers. Some of it happened to you in Estonia as well, I looked it up how you worked for them, and how you fed your nephew, a growing boy solely with the rice porridge…

Hildegard kept her word, despite Anna’s lack of English, she was invited to work and study in one of the best astral hospitals. Of course, she accepted the offer with deepest and most sincere gratitude. It happened some months ago. I was told that Anna is fine, that she is working and learning and slowly recovering and agreed to learn for the starters the skills of a midwife. She is polite to everybody, she is in contact with family, she had thanked her guides and me for the healing, saying that it made her young again!

They offered a parish to Piotr, in a place known for its spectacular views. However, this offer was accompanied by a strict condition – to be cured of alcoholism. He was spoken to by saints from Russian hierarchy. They suggested to be honest with himself, and when the day would arrive when he would see himself through the eyes of people whom he had hurt, it would be right moment seek a decent rehabilitation center. Their meeting was concluded with the following words, “You need to want passionately to be cured, otherwise no treatment will help. Priests are needed in Russia, the doors will be open to you”.

… Someone has blamed me recently for my hot temper, saying that sometimes I become loud like a wild Russian, who yell, accuse, judge, charge, call names having no reason to be… so open! Probably the person was right. I was working on it, I was learning to walk away instead of exploding, because, I started doubting that it was my mission to educate everybody regarding his or her faultiness! But how to recount this so strict accusation right now? I said, “After all, I’m the granddaughter of my grandfather!” And there he was, Piotr’s spirit appeared in my room immediately. It was not a secret that he disliked me, if I put it mildly. So, I braced myself for a sharp duel of opinions.

However, instead, he made a quite surprising statement. “So, you still recognize my blood in your blood vessels! For this, everything is forgiven to you. Take care of my girls! I will pray to reverse my courses away from you!”

These are our Russian ways. In order to survive we need the patience of our grandmothers, and in order to release our yoke of betrayals, drunkenness, plundering, reckless stealing, swagger, baseless conceit, we can use the wild power of our grandfathers as well… before we can start listing instead of our faults, our real achievements.

In one of these days, Yogananda, I mean, his spirit, dropped by. I, the sick doubter, asked him for a favor to read and check the Anna’s story about her death, if I got it right! Maybe, writing down what she told me, I added some unwillingly?  How this quiet woman got such patience and such terrible karma? Yogananda asked to show him Anna’s portrait. He sat down on the sofa to study my old family album. Such a strong energy was dispersed from his concentration that for a moment, I saw him as if he was there in flesh. Finally, he announced his verdict. “Her story is true to the last detail. When looters’ car moved her twice, she already felt nothing, she got it all later. In her marriage, she unleashed her monastic karma, which included terrible punishments of nuns for sexual crimes. She was offered to either be born as a man like Piotr, or to be born as a patient woman. She chose the path of suffering and passed her lessons with a rare dignity. Her patience will make her a good and sought after nurse. She will be financially secure person when Europe begins to recover after the upcoming defeat.

* Kronstadt sailors did more than robbed, raped and murdered, they were called stronghold of Petersburg revolutionaries. “The Kronstadt Uprising” in year 1921 demanded “the Soviets without Bolsheviks – freedom of speech, control over government actions and improvement of economic situation in the country.”
Wikipedia writes about Bolshevik’s answer to these demands : “On March 19, 1921 the Bolshevik forces took full control of the city of Kronstadt after having suffered fatalities ranging from 527 to 1,412, or higher.(…) Although there are no reliable figures for rebel battle losses, historians estimate that from 1,200–2,168 persons were executed after the revolt and a similar number were jailed. Soviet figures claim approximately 1,000 rebels were killed, 2,000 wounded and from 2,300–6,528 captured, with 6,000–8,000 defecting to Finland. (…) Their large number was causing the first big refugee problem for the newly independent state.

A note from the author:  About the main cause of the Russian revolution: I believe , this single photo of hungry children says it all! At the same time, the Russian experience teaches that a revolution sows cruelty that can exceed the cruelty of the most terrible monarchs whom revolutionaries aim to dethrone.  Study of the Russian revolution and its consequences can contribute to stopping the idealization of revolutions as the method to renovation of society, there has to be other, less destructive ways to improve life.

I started out writing a very personal story of Anna, my maternal grandmother. But to my surprise, the memory of this small, quiet and patient women asked for explanatory excursions to many forgotten corners of Russian history.  It revealed that an individual destiny’s conflict with the atrocities of monarchs or revolutionaries is inevitable, especially in times of  upheavals and uprisings and civil wars. I was not prepared to look into this, and I could write this story only with help of Wikipedia articles. The paradox is that these were the fantastic revelations that surfaced during the most occult meditations that led me to look up twists and turns and facts of history to make sense of stories of individual souls’ search for redemption, repentant and healing.

 

 

 

Meditation in Memory of Grandmother Luba

  1. Restructuring

We were having some tea and talking. I asked Lena, our talented beauty with innate clairvoyance to find the soul of my deceased grandmother Lubov Petrovna, nee Myasoedova.

Lena fell silent, I gave her a photo of my grandmother. She dropped it on the floor, as if it had burned her fingers. Lena screamed and grabbed her head running to the corner of the room. She pressed herself against the wall and squatted down. Continuing holding her head, as if protecting herself from the blows she shouted: “She beats me! Something is hanging on her! I cannot deal with this.” What she was talking about? I stood my ground defending the reputation of my grandmother. I told Lena that my granny read Thomas Mann in German and Zola in French, wars and communists robbed her shamelessly, all was stolen from her but her rheumatism, her near-blindedness and pain in knees. Therefore, there was nothing that could hang on her. Rather something would hang on people who sent her sons to war, drove her out of her house, plundered family dinner sets and crystals, smashed her library, used the pages from the “Encyclopedic Dictionary of Brockhaus and Efron” to wipe their dirty asses, broke the piano, and dragged everything — up to her black velvet bag with family jewelry.

Lena was silent, as it was too obvious that I knew nothing about life deeper secrets and man’s invisible ties to subtle worlds… Soon, we forgot this episode, and surrendered to the female preferential occupation — gossip and exchanging opinions about things that we knew not too much about. Despite the inherent gift of clairvoyance, Lena was a cheerful person, talented, with a lively sense of humor, and we had something to talk about.

Year 2017, 30 years have passed, since Lena and I had that memorable tea party at my flat. I live in Los Angeles and I have passed the age threshold marked by the number 80, and now it was my turn to treat rheumatism, pain in the knees, and other age-related ailments. I practiced meditation and our Lord took note of it by opening some of my finer energy channels, and I started to hear the dead people talking and sometimes observe the visitations from the astral worlds, especially the visitations of animals in spirit. Lately, a beautiful wolf marched proudly across my room and out of my 3rd floor window without breaking the glass. And sometimes we have visitations from a little white dog, a twin of one in flesh that belongs to a sweet Korean lady who lives a floor below me. Sometimes, while my cat in flesh is getting her food from a plate, I see another one, a cat in spirit trying to get its share from the same plate! The day came when, making my special preparations, I dared to meditate in memory of my grandmother Luba.

GrandmaLyuba

Lubov Petrovna Myasoedova

Appealing to the guardians for a fire-ring protection and narrowing the goal of this meditation – because only they know what is most worthwhile to concentrate upon in given circumstances. Spontaneously, an early childhood vision of my grandmother comes to mind. I was about three years old in someone’s arms, probably it’s were my father’s arms, and my mother was next to him in her new flowery dress. Easter. Returning home from the church, the grown-ups broke loose. Grandmother brought out two large chocolate eggs, one in shiny red, the other in a golden wrapper, and apparently testing me for the innate taste, she asked me to choose one … I remember my very small hands that were desperately trying to reach… a bright red egg. The granny said that the golden egg was more elegant one, and she would like me to have the golden one. But l started to cry bitterly still demanding that red one!  … My grandmother frowned, my mother looked at her pleadingly with a strange guilty smile on her face. Without adding a word, my grandmother escaped to her room.

The meditation needs a new start. I concentrate on my nostrils and breathe boringly and evenly. It is still dark behind my closed eyes. Finally, as if from a milky fog before the sunrise, some outlines begin to emerge … “The third eye” reveals the picture of the field, dotted with skulls. There were more skulls than on Vereshchagin’s painting “The Apotheosis of War.”

apofeoz-verechagin+ (2)

Lena’s moaning: “Something heavy was hanging on her conscience…” — was flashing by.

Suddenly, the meditation takes me to a mystical place. I see a flat horizontal field with shiny gates in its depth, and a separately existing vertical field with a black marble box, or case, or a chest for storing something of value. The shape of this marble mantle reminds the heart on Valentine’s cards. This weighty thing was symbolizing granny’s spiritual heart, and it was literally hanging in the air just in from of me, a couple of inches above my computer.

On my left hand appeared the imaginary ring that was passing curses, the ominous ring  given by Ivan the Terrible to my ancestor, oprichnik Masoedov.  (More about this ring can be found in the blog – “Repent, repent, repent!”)  Soon, that golden sapphire ring started emanate curse waves of souls of wounded warriors who were left behind to die in terrible pain… These curses showed me the size of granny’s guilt that her immortal soul had collected during eons of incarnations as a warlord, maybe since times when  Sumerian poets birthed poems about their king-priest Gilgamesh. If difficult thought forms were not released, according to the great cosmic Law of Attraction, they would add  to the burden of guilt attracting similar energy wave from universe. In granny’s soul, this type of guilt ridden thought forms worked like the magnet.  And in this meditation we attempt to free my granny’s soul from this “magnet” as much as we can.  I

I continue meditating. I do not act alone. Someone is organizing souls into “Indian files” hat move toward Golden Gates. They look like faithful in Russian churches approaching the golden orthodox cross, everyone kissing its cold surface to confirm his devotion to their faith and their church.

And finally, I noticed angels and priests working on the field. Some kept order in this pool of moving souls, the other were consoling those who were so weak that could not reach without help their goal to be saved by LIGHT! I realized what size of weight was removed from my grandmother Luba’s conscience.

imagesblack heart

I was instructed to work with her spiritual heart, the image of which was in front of me. My business was to focus light on this image making the “marble” mantel around granny’s tortured heart to melt and disappear.

Someone was sent to help me as well. Before I knew it, someone took over the driver’s seat, the rhythm of the actions changed from normal human to inhuman speed. Was it shape shifting, or something else? I became a man, a shaman, some other creature. I was no longer sure who was calling light to melt the marble mantel in question? I threw my hands in the high and I was shouting, “Light, light, light!” Finally, I had a chance to look at my hands, but they were not mine! They were a men’s naked hands with strong swollen biceps, multiple bracelets, tattooed. I realized that these hands belong to strange half-naked man with light brownish skin … with light bandana to control his dark hair on his head, with dark eyes, and with a distinctive small hump on his nose.  In order to give idea what I saw, I downloaded this picture from the Internet collection of images of ancient Egypt’s humans.  Here we see two almost naked figures, and one fully dressed female. The naked figures looked very smililar to the one who worked with me. And he was also accompanied with a flock of his helpers.

egypt22

Maybe it would be more accurate to say that I’m not the only one who called LIGHT, we were a powerful team – a strange helper out of ancient Egypt with his beautiful friends and I — we all called LIGHT to heal my grandmother. I was in the state of ecstasy. I was crying and I did not remember myself, I did not know where I was, out of body, or still in this room and how did we get so much golden LIGHT that it filled the room! Time to time, I repeated asking out loud for the fire ring protection and blessings from Jesus, the Savior, and Virgin Mary, the Immaculate Mother of God. I asked help from Mary Magdalene, because I felt her presence. My assistant and I, or rather I as his assistant, were working together. He took me – of course not me, but part of my consciousness, what we are in the state of OBE, for an unusual ride across the time and space!

The intensity of this spiritual flight was indescribable in words, because of its unusual speed. The layers of history and cultures, Egyptian kingdoms and dynasties, the campaigns of the Romans, then the Crusaders, then the Persians changed rapidly. We visited terrible sites of ruins produced by wars and insurrections. Without any warning or explanation, the vision jumped to the wars of the Aztecs and Incas on the American continent. But suddenly our flight stopped at a fence decorated with severed heads with removed scalps. Apparently, even my guide did not expect this … In a nonverbal manner, he whom name I never learned, gave me the following sentence: “You grandmother’s soul had it’s fill here. When her soul was done with this Camacho camp, and upon its arrival to afterlife, sha sought buptizing into Christian faith, and asked to consider the cycle of warior incarnations to be completed.  This wish was granted, and she was rushed into the next cycle of reincarnations as a woman who would experience the pain of loosing her childrens too soon.”

I think that 30 years ago Lena, when I asked her to “find my grandmother in the next world,” hit the same fence adored by heads with removed scalps. Probably she tuned into unbearable pain which was hovering above that terrible hedge, and as a modern world being she simply was not able to digest the horror of this experience.

When our journey through time and space ended, the black marble mantel around granny’s heart started showing signs of softening. Like melting wax is rolling down along the lit candle’s stem, so did melting “marble”! Probably, it was never a real marble at the first place despite looking like one! The lower edge of the heart started to show some shy pastel colors as if signaling the progress in our attempt to free the heart from now unnecessary protection.  The heart was recovering with gentle glow of infantile pink. I was astounded that in the soul of this stern and sober, always reserved woman, was hidden so much tender childishness. And I recalled how one day in my early childhood she entered into an argument with me, the three years old, which paint is better, red or gold! She was annoyed  teaching me,  the first-grader,  the mathematics, but she was sincerely happy when I read Pushkin’s “Ruslan and Lyudmila” in one gulp at age 11, which the usual adults would never take as a sign of their child’s educational advancement.

… But, finally, the emerald glow began to break out of the released heart. I was told that there were changes in grandmother appearance, she was rejuvenating rapidly. Grandfather Grigory came up to me and said only a few words: “You gave me back my wife, thank you!”

And then, unexpectedly and sharply, I was told to close my chakras and lie down to rest. Before leaving, I created an imaginary burning field furnace near my computer, took off an imaginary sapphire ring from my finger, and threw it into the furnace flame. When the flame went out, a completely purified ring shining in the ashes. I left it there, and went to rest, falling asleep at once. When in 5 hours I woke up, there were no traces from the furnace or that dangerous ring! I hope it was picked up by a soul that could handle it and it would not bring him any harm!

……………… ..

A few days later, a spirit, a mutual friend, brought me a message from Luba. My grandmother asked me to arrange a date with my mother Tamara, because it’s time to put up and reconcile.  I immediately remembered the matter that called once the pain to them both.  In the late thirties, when my mother became pregnant the second time, my grandmother decided that her son was not involved and my mother had a love interest on aside, in Tartu, or Dorpat, the Estonian university town what she frequented to  visit.   As a matter of fact, she visited Tartu to see her demanding and moody family. I think, they pressured my mother to make granny Luba to accept them and share her space in Paide with them. My grandmother, having her reasons, refused to do so categorically. However, the shadow of suspicions can be a poisonous thing. Granny ignored the presence of my brother and never let him into her heart!  Mother’s and granny’s relationship was ruined.  To top it all, granny put her doubts in writing  and sent the bitter letter to my mother officially over the mail. I was not aware of this literary work  until mother showed it to me shortly before her death.  Stupid me tore it apart, because as an esotericist, I was already aware of sad consequences from carrying this kind of letter near one’s heart. My mother was angry with me as well. My mom helped her husband’s mother in all thinkable ways, and believed that she did not deserve such a derogatory accusation. And she carried this resentment through her long life on earth until her death – 2 weeks before the 99th anniversary.

However, in the afterlife they met face to face again, and I was reported that they both cried recalling old times and reconciled. The desire of our haughty granny to see my mother and reconcile, can only be attributed to the work that the angels did on her during my meditation dedicated to my memory about her.

…………………………… ..

It turned out that Paramahansa Yogananda participated in work on grandmother’s problems. Later, when I was writing the report of this event, Yogananda pointed to one powerful confirmation of facts that were revealed during this meditation.  We had this confirmation literally under our noses, but we managed not to see or recognize it! Yogananda continued: “And the name of this confirmation is Yuri, or Yurik, the son of Lubov Petrovna, and his fate!”

This time it was me who clutched my head, but not because of pain, but with amazement that I was so blind!

Paramahansa Yogananda continued: “Once upon the time, Luba pitied a wounded warrior by leaving him behind to die on the battlefield. Centuries later she gave him a new body, but was notable to protect him from his fate.

I have written several times about the terrible fate of Yurik , but I have to recall it briefly here what happened to him in the time of the Leningrad Blockade. A small group of wounded soldiers were forgotten in a non-heated building that had suffered from bombing. This happened in the fierce winter of 1942. The dying soldiers were left without any help until the frost freed them taking them to another world.

In other words, Yurik attracted and embodied the content of his mother’s unreleased and most negative thought forms – guilt over left behind wounded worriers on the battlefields.

Paramahansa Yogananda concluded, “This was a peace promoting meditation. You were brought into this work not only, because you are a medium capable to talk to involved spirits, but because your strong imagination is capable “translate” the negative vibrations into certain images that guiding angels can eradicate successfully.  This cleansing of negativity will  save many lives in coming wars.”

 

EarthPeace