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.


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!”



Sergei Vronsky: Different Lives – Same Consequences in Afterlife. Story 5

BackCoverPortrait-Tanika Note from the Medim

Forgive me this long introduction, it has its reasons to be included in this post.

Sergei Vronsky (1915-1998), the Russian astrologer, esotericists and the author of 12-volume astrology encyclopedic treatise “Astrology” was the only survivor of the 1929 all Soviet Astrology Congress. That one-of-the-kind congress ended with all astrologers attending being sent to the Gulag’s. However, the twists and turns of Vronsky’s life did not end there. Under still mysterious circumstances he winded up working for Rudolph Himmler in the Third Reich era. He did horoscopes for Hitler, Eva Brown and his elite entourage. As the stars were not favorable for Nazi leaders and Germany in WWII and as tactful as the astrologer tried to be, his predictions did not support his popularity in the Hitler’s inner circle. The situation became dangerous, and Vronsky did an attempt to flee from Germany to Russia. He stole a plane, crossed the border and his plane was… taken down on the Soviet’s side of the frontline. Vronsky survived, and was not sent to Siberia immediately, as did happen to any returning home Russian POW without any exceptions. He worked in frontline hospitals, and was trusted  with surgical operations. They say, the warning to leave the Third Reich as soon as possible came from … Stalin himself? However, Vronsky could not avoid a free raid to Siberia for long. He served five years in a Gulag establishment. After rehabilitation he had no right to live in Moscow or Leningrad. But he got permit to live in his home town Riga, Latvia. And now he did horoscopes to the Soviet elite. Many who should benefit from his work, ignored stars’ warnings. Among them was Juri Gagarin who was advised to avoid flying during certain time period, he did anyway, and we know how things ended. Sergei Korolev, the architect of the Soviet Space Program received the specific warning regarding the data of scheduled surgical procedure. Vronsky suggested to reschedule it. The warning was ignored, and Korolev died on the hospital table during the operation. On the level of Yuri Andropov, firstly, head of the Soviet KGB, later the president of the Soviet Union (1983–84) and general secretary of the Communist Party (1982–84) emerged a suggestion to restore the astrology in the Soviet Union. Among Vronsky’s disciples we see Pavel Globa and Sergei Shestopalov, to name the few. Later, with the blessing from maestro, Shestopalov founded The Astrology Academy in St. Petersburg, and developed Vronsky’s unique branch of vocational astrology. Today we can learn this from Shestopalov’s book “Delovaya astrologia” – “ Business Astrology”, published by Mir Uranii, Moscow 2005.

As Vronsky’s all contacts were strictly controlled by KGB, his astrology teaching reached us in Estonia, my country, also through the filter of conspiracy, suspicions and secrecy. However, something still came through, and it made me an astrologer as well. Today, in about 40 years, my more trusted friends told me that my candidature to meet Vronsky personally for learning directly from teacher was declined by KGB sternly. Nevertheless, I got some basics that worked for me up to this day. Like a vow never reveal to a client his possible date of death and never to succumb to temptation to tell the client what he or she wants to hear from you. Over time, both promises have shortened the list of my clients, but opened the door for my personal development. This is why I have my personal obligation to record Vronsky’s spirit words, if he decides to trust me as a medium as well. I assure you, it was my pleasure to record the following story of Vronsky’s Judgment Day after his transition, what I translated from Russia to English according to best of my ability. … A note for astrology lovers. In Sergey Shestopalov’s birth chart planets Sun, Jupiter and Venus are found in the Aquarius. No comments, astrologers can figure out, why maestro trusted Shestopalov with founding an Astrology Academy in Leningrad.

One more passing note… You may notice that Vronsky’s last name sounds somewhat familiar. Who has read Tolstoy’s “Anna Karenina”, may recall that Anna’s lover’s last name was Vronsky as well. Sergey Vronsky came from a Russian noble family with corresponding upbringing, education and many languages on his lips what made all what had happened to him possible, including learning astrology in Germany on the highest level possible, and bringing to Russia the best kind of advanced astrology possible. What his disciple would do with this in given them time and circumstances, is another story…

The sources: https://vimeo.com/10740234 and  http://jekstrasens.ru/predskazaniya/sergey-vronskiy-o-rossii.html. The site is freely available to everyone who might be interested in Sergei Vronsky’s biography.

Sergey  Vronsky’s Judgment Day

s-vS.V. – Tatyana, I think the title of one of your books «Death the Beginning» is not quite true. Death is not something external, a new beginning, but the continuation of the natural flow of life. Because neither before nor after transition life does not stop, on the contrary, life continues to flow and change. Oftentimes, it remains unnoticed by the most inquisitive thinkers of our time. Here is an example. Who you are today? You are an eighty-year old woman who is not alien to the thought that at any moment she can die from the second heart attack, which was threatening her day by day during this unusually hot summer. Fortunately, this summer is now gone. In recent years, you have gained weight, as you are slowing down and cannot find time for a walk or for a trip to the beach. I can enumerate more little things that you may do better than sitting days long at your computer in the room cooled by air conditioning.

Come on, let’s say you live another seven years. But a hot summer may come again, and the day will arrive when you will surrender to your fatigue and numerous ailments, and the angel of death would take pity on you, and bring you out of the body, and free you from your agonizing wait for death, what you, of course, would never admit to yourself. But, suddenly, you would be with us.

And after the transition, the same things that had happened to us would happen to you. Probably, many readers are aware that during transition from earth plane to the subtle world, their souls will be “weight” to establish their merit. If in Ancient Egypt this job was trusted to god Anubis, portrayed as a man with the head of a jackal, in modern days esotericists knew that the soul “weights” itself automatically in the subtle world. When the main energy channel, “silver cord” breaks away from dense body, the person’s soul starts its free fall through the mental body’s elliptical hole formed by its fast perpetual revolving. In your book “Prisoners of Fame” William Powell gives a colorful description of this process.

T: – We have to ask why the so-called “heavy souls” of presumed sinners fall deeper stopping in the realms with significantly slower vibrations than the realms where we see the majority of so called average people. And why souls of the saints may find themselves in the realms of higher vibrations, or paradise. The automatism of the “weighting” process is granted by the configuration of the elliptical opening in the middle of the mental body, its size. Probably the souls’ size is the same despite expressions like Russian “shirokaya dusha” – “a wide soul” meaning generous soul. But the accumulation of the negative thought forms on mental body surface creates a pressure that stretches the elliptical hole, and it becomes bigger, and soul fells deeper.  In other words, the accumulation of the negative thought forms born by the humans’ thoughts, ideas, emotions and actions are the culprits. How human creates negative thought forms and how they end up on the surface of the mental body, is a long story, worth telling in a separate article.

SV: — Getting rid of its dense body, the “temple of the soul”, the soul experiences incredible feeling of freedom and happiness. Without looking back, it accepts the next form of existence. The soul recalls instantaneously, in a single vibration, the otherworldly environment, where everything was different and everything was possible. And the liberated soul is ready to take off. But suddenly it discovers that it cannot do it. The state of delight disappears as fast, as it overwhelmed the soul an instant ago, making it to wish to fly and explore the new heights!

Now soul wonders why it cannot fly? Suddenly it notices being surrounded by some strange creatures who ask her to follow them… Fear makes her dutifully trudge behind these monsters who are rushing straight to the Hall of Justice.

It may happen that you remember that you have been here countless times. It happened to me, I recognized the interior of the Hall of Justice, the corresponding visions, details, symbols started to surface from the deep depth of my subconscious into the light of recognition.

Something white and big was taking shape, golden rays of light were coloring it with a touch of pinkish tones. You see the incredible triumph of white color’s purity, you stay in front of the Hall of Justice. The doors and window openings are edged by cherry red beams. A guard opens a heavy entrance door and you are literally thrusted into  space in front of you. … Tatyana, soon this door into Hall of Justice will be opened for you as well! These doors will open in front of millions of souls who had finished their present journey of gathering earth experiences. Day-by-day it opens for masses of humans since the dawn of humanity.

SV: — You will find yourself alone with the council of sages, and you cannot help asking yourself … “What they want with me? What they would ask?” Something is tossing and turning in your mind, it is painful and heavy and it is trying to reach you and tell you something important, to warn you; and you are listening attentively, but you cannot understand what your inner voice is trying to tell you. (Too thick has been the layer of fear and multiple experiences with any sort of deviousness in order to trust your naïve inner voice!) And before you knew it, you ask yourself, who are these judges, are they truly wise men who were supposed to have my best interest on their mind? This has been said that they are wise, but what if they are not? Maybe they are the actors in disguise barely sobering for this meeting to decide what to do with me, hang or pardon? Maybe they were representatives of some political parties, or they are simply torturers, masked as normal people. Maybe they are here to decide what tools to use for torturing me in order to get out of me more information about world-wide insane conspiracy? I see how black waves of doubts separate from me and fly toward judges and they dismiss them as waves of annoying flies. I gather the last crumbs of my strength in order to silence these terrible doubts of mine, and … I faint and collapse, as if dying all over again.

However, soon I come to senses and discover that monsters had dragged me closer to the judges. So I learned what was the monsters’ or robots’ true role in Hall of Justice. They were needed for performing physical tasks during measuring the justice to the newbies. Most likely, I was not the first one who had swooned in front of wise judges. Probably, before me many were plagued by the surprising and complex emotions, like who were the judges? What they know about us, and life on the present day earth? How will they assess my soul, how would they decide, if I belong to hell, or some other place in the astral world? Can it be that at this point I have not found myself at the ending, but on the contrary, at a new beginning? Instead of the promised rest, as they mumble at your coffin, you have been thrusted into a school again, way more difficult than schools on earth!   What the heck these judges want? Should I answer, or keep my mouth shut? What is here “a must to do,” and where is here the line that one should never cross? What I should do, or don’t do?Who am I in their eyes — a sinner or a good guy, as it all depends how they look at it! What is their judging criteria? Will they measure me on the scale of New York businessmen, Russian priests questionably educated in the spirit of Marxists views on everything under the skies!  Were judges Jesuits, Catholics, Buddhists, Islamists, Jewish rabis? Jesus was still a Jew, a Rabi, but do we know a word of truth about him, and who was Moses? Could he whoop as a thug, “Stone him to death!”– as did writers of The Book of Leviticus, establishing laws to stone to death esotericists, mediums, prostitutes, and whom else they did not like? Maybe my judges have under their table baskets with stones ready for “proper” use, because on earth, being a devoted astrologer, I did not shy away from any mediums, neither magicians nor prostitutes, and according to that book I would be sentenced to death via stoning. On the other hand, if I am here, I have already gone throw one death, would there be more opportunities to die? Never heard about such chances.

Finally, you are pressed to a peculiar backless chair with a transparent seat. You are told tosergei-vronski sit on this chair. But because the seat is transparent, you doubt its durability. You think, if you sit on it, then, like in an 007 movie, the floor beneath you yawn, you will drop down straight into lake with sharks or crocodiles, or with monsters worse than crocodiles. This time, falling head first, you will truly die finally, and it would be over in a second. You want to escape, but the monster grabs you forcing to sit down on that damn chair. And … nothing happens, the ground is not opening beneath you.

You sit on that transparent chair, and you are not falling down despite the feeling that you hang in the air. Thousand and one measures are taken off from you in the most incomprehensible ways. A tiny mechanical “hand” moves some arrows, lines and dots on an electronic screen on the wall, and time-to-time some colorful flashes flare up brightening for a second mystical symbols and numbers, and alphabetical letters and some even more mystical equations that, probably, have some deep meaning for judges and do not mean a thing to you. So, you are still kept in the dark, and you cannot tell, if you sink or float! Somewhere a printing machine has been switched on, and it starts spew out printed pages one after another. A body of pages is falling in a box for the judges to read and decide my fate in the astral world for the entire period of my stay here, until I will be ready to incarnate again and I will claim a new body for me.

Some at the table continue looking attentively at their clear, but significantly reduced screens and pin down same data on their personal small devices. Then, out of terrible silence, a voice announces, “I have a proposal to offer: “Aqua 17, the second category. Judges, please, share objections, concerns or questions?”

I hoped that the discussion will clarify the meaning of this decision and I would know, if I was awarded, or condemned for eternal torture. But my modest person did not provoke any discussions, everyone seemed to be happy to let me go and start dealing with the next fresh arrival. The robots’ strong hands went under my arms, as I was losing the last of my self-control, and they dragged me out of the judges’ sanctuary. Someone was shouting “The next!”  I wanted to look back, but we were already in the neutral hall, and I was seated on a normal bench to gather my mojo and become myself again.

T: — Aqua 17, the second category, what it turned to be? Was it high, low, or medium range of the vibrational frequencies?

SV: – I took what I was given. Aqua 17, the second rank is a bit higher than the common range of frequencies of those celebs who spoke to you when you were writing “Prisoners of Fame,” but not much. In my area, there were fields, flowers, roads and nice residential buildings. I got my house, which I gave to my friend and partner, actor Ustinov. This level is considered for people who were not mired with race, financial status, and position issues, but, instead, tried to do something creative and positive, like write, distribute, to leave some positive marks of their dreams and efforts to materialize them for everyone’s benefit, to do some good that would outlive the doer’s time on earth, for instance, like the garden in story number 4, that your grandfather created for the joy of so many people, as I learned reading your previous blog.

Aqua 17 first category can be found on much higher level. There we can found private houses surrounded by land – given just for you. And you will be able to work on this land and live there.

T: – Thank you for such a detailed and vivid account of the inevitable! How Leo Tolstoy lives in your world?

SV: – Tolstoy chose vagrancy voluntarily. He is begged continuously to accept a shelter of his liking and to sit behind the writer’s desk again, if he chooses so. He has been proposed to sharpen his attention on something, for example, to continue the study of comparative theology and write about its influence on society.

T: – What Fyodor Dostoevsky does?

SV: – I do not know, but he lives with his family in a luxurious mansion.

T: – And yet, one last question: Does a spirit can change the given level of existence in your world?

SV: – The change for the better is possible, but it asks for a significant effort, will to concentrate and hard work. It is easy to descend to a lower level, but no one wants to go under. Everybody wants to go up! However, ascending is hard not because someone does not let you fly, but because of your hardened and thickened uncleanness, accumulations of your negative thought forms are restrickting your way.

T: – Is it possible to consult on the matters of your interest in your world?

SV: – Consultations are given willingly, any kind of consultations are available to you. In general, they are encouraged, and any desire to work and develop is supported, I was surprised, when I discovered how available  is the knowledge and support to the souls who want to develop and work in this direction.

T: – Do you use this privilege?

SV: – I use and will use in the future.

T: – Thank you again, I hope that this story about the astral Judgment Day will capture readers, since the essence is so important. If I, for instance, would have known this earlier … my life would be completely different, or so it seems to me today!

Astro Sun

Different Lives – Same Consequences in Afterlife. Story 4

A Note from the Medium

Grigory Elmanovich is my grandfather (1869-1918), now, of course, he lives on the other side. Once, he came to talk to me, the medim, and I learned a lot about his life on earth and in heaven.
My grandfather bought in Paide, an Estonian little town, a piece of land with three old houses on it. I was born in Paide, when he was already long gone. I witnessed occupation of Estonia by the Soviet army, at a time – the Red Army, and the WWII that took almost all men of our family. I lived in Paide to see mass deportation of Estonians to Siberia.  I think, it all shaped my world both inwardly and outwardly, and this is why – reporting about spirit communication sessions with my grandfather, I will add here and there some words about life in Paide that can give the feel of background of the sotry, told by my grandfather.

Repent! Repent! Repent! 

Grigory Elmanovich: – Times were hard. The dark forebodings of changes were in the air, and they followed through as Revolution 1905 and the devastating First World War  that led to the Bolshevick’s heist of power and the end of Russia as we knew it.  In WWI, on the Russian side, there were treacherous generals, and tsar Nikolai the Second, a good-hearted family man, not made for leading armies or quieting hungry people’s mutinies, mostly working class starving women’s civil restlessness under the very nose of his Excellency. Russia was sinking before our eyes, and there was nothing else left but witness and surrender to God’s will!  Luba and I, we moved from Moscow to Tallinn and later to Paide, a nice Estonian provincial town with traces if some historical events.

Tatyana: I will continue for my dedushka, as everything that he would say about Paide is not only his but also mine background. Now, living in Los Angeles, some times in my dreams, I still found myself in our Paide garden, created by my grandfather, where  I learned to walk, speak, and took in my first memories of the outer world, visions of our beautiful garden.

Over time, the shadows of history built a special atmosphere of this city. In the center of the town, there was a park on a hillock called Vallimägi – The Mountain of the Wall. Actually, the park was built on the remains of a historic castle, ceated by the ironclad knights of the Teutonic Order. The legend have it that after Teutonic knights return from a Holy War, the Roman pope, wishing get rid from this dangerously armed division commissioned them to Christianize North European savages “with sword and fire”. Along the way of fulfilling their holy mission, Teutonic knights built many military fortresses because of the strong resistance of locals, Vikings posterity. Besides Christianizing, Teotonic knights fought for the land, and getting it, saw it as payment for their hard work of dessiminating the new religion. Here in the North Europe, they put aside their iron attires, and became peaceful landlords turning free locals into their peasant slaves. In time, the fortress with one remaining watch tower and a stage for local song festivals consecrated by the legend about the treacherous murder of four Estonian kings, probably tribe leaders, became a beautiful park, a real gem of a provincial town.

And nearby, there was the grave of Maluta Scurata, Ivan the Terrible’s henchman, as he was called in our family  legend. To my surprise, Wikipedia confirms the family legend. According to this free encyclopedia, and various other sources,  Malyuta Scurata, officially called Malyuta Scuratov, was killed on January 1st  1573 during Ivan’s Livonian war when Russian army attacked Weizenstein Fortress — White Stone Fortress in the city, called Paide, Järvamaa, Estonia. There was an interesting question, where this morbid historic figure was buried.  According to the family legend and Wikipedia official biography, this tsar’s henchman, murderer and torturer of hard to count number of innocent people was buried near Paide, but according to prezent day Russian sources, he was buried in one of the near Moscow monateries.

In Estonia, near the bus route from Paide to the capital of Estonia, Tallinn, in the middle of a flatland, green fields, can be seen a lonely hillock covered with a wild grow of fir trees. According to the people’s m emory, this is the grave of Maluta Scuratov. However, it would be a futile job to seek a path across these fields toward that grave. It seems, as if it still seems to emit waves of fear and horror. Today, this unruly hillock in the middle of the green flat land looks like the ghostly remain of a giant pirate ship dragged into these fields and dropped there letting nature to swallow it into forgetfulness. Some years ago, the name of Skuratov caught my eye in Daniel Andreev’s unique book The Rose of the World, translated into English by Daniel Shubin. “Rose of the World: A Meta-Philosophy of Hostory,  A Revelation  of Worlds Beyond…” In description of the lowest levels of hell, the world of solid magma Propuilk, one can read: “… not too long ago Maluta Scuratov completed his term of anguish here, while of the   western meta-cultures Robespierre and Saint- Just, and several of the inquisitors of the 16th century, still have not untied their karma here.” (p 242, ISBN  978-0-9662757-9-7)

And upon that city, there was another shadow left behind by Peter The Great’s army passing Paide during tsar’s Northern War (1700-1721). Peter’s army marked his conquest by setting a caldron with the boiling tar on the town square and tossing into it some local residents, the curious ones, who dared to stuck out their stupid sorry noses to learn what was going on in their otherwise quiet town. When caldron was full and cooled off, the terrible remains were hung around to announce the victorious conquest and mollify the rebellious minds who could sympathize with the victims of tsarist tyranny.

GE: – In that romantic little town, I got my hands on a piece of land with old houses on it. There was enough space to lay a large garden with trees and a pond, and flowerbeds. The houses needed repair and modernization, the landscaping had to be done, and we hoped to live there, and raise our children in that provincial quietude far away from sinking Russian both capital’s Petersburg and Moscow.  But God had other plans for us and me personally.
War and revolution turned my arrangements upside down. Instead of taking care of the family nest, I was called to appear in our headquarters in St. Petersburg and told that some specific circumstances would need some specific attention in Estonia in connection with the war, and Russia’s most probable involvement in it. I received my instructions from police clandestine operations division and accepted the umbrella what they offered to cover up the work what I was supposed to do in Estonia. It was a position of an excise official in Estonia, and it included the supervision of the production of potato alcohol. Also, I should stay in touch with St. Petersburg office for some special tasks that may occur as war would unfold.
This arrangement started the most difficult and disgusting page of my life. I was wheeling across Estonia. I was traveling from Paide to St. Peterburg, Narva. I visited frequently various spots where locals distilled potato pulp turning it into transparent, high quality alcohol. They used it freely, and sold it to the highest bidder without bothering to build any storages, or keep any books. I invented for them the simplest accounting system and asked to keep tracks about production details — how much they produced, sold, and how much state taxes they should pay to tsarist  kazna according the law. Of course, they lied, of course, they hid the real income, and it all was known too well by too many. My duty was to squeeze out of them as much as possible. Because the war was coming and every penny was accounted for, or so it was explained to me. Maybe I took things too seriously, and it sandwiched me in between the two opposing forces. One force demanded more taxes, and the other, very powerful one, was life threatening. If I would not turn a blind eye or deaf ear to steeling, or to shameless lies or to blunt crookery under my nose, my family would be in danger.

In St. Petersburg, they knew everything, and Estonian bumpkins knew even more! They knew exactly, how much they produced, how much alcohol went down the throats, how much they sold, what part of the profit belonged to them, and what part should go to   kazna, most importantly — how to cheat-leave the lion’s share of the profits for themselves. I swirled among them, I could sense what their moods were before I even learned to speak some Estonian. We would never survive, if I would not agree be part of the international transactions, so to speak. In other words, I had to know everything about their smuggling operations. As America had banned alcohol officially, their black market of illegal alcohol was booming.

From Baltic Sea ports unnoticeable fishing “boats” started toward America shores carrying more than illegal vodka alone. Some used this root to escape from trials, debts, family obligations. Among navy, fishermen or illegal passengers, there were wanted criminals, adventures, spies, political immigrants, unrecognized geniuses, hungry writers and painters, or stingy types who saved on normal travel expenses. Informers gave me pretty exact picture of quantities of spirit that went “swimming”, and I was sure that I was not alone who was privy to this information. So, lying to my bosses in Petersburg was out of question. Oh my God, how badly I needed my post and salary! This was why I refused to take part in risky speculative operations but I was not able to avoid the main thing, to answer questions about involved sailing captains, their personalities, and their surroundings and if they could be trusted, how they behave under the stress. Sometimes, I had the impression that in Petersburg they couldn’t care less how much vodka makers helped themselves with tsar’s tax money, because all they cared was descriptions of the characters of the sailing captains. Soon I learned why. War is war, and any war takes care of its reconnaissance. Many people were involved in sending spies out and bringing them back. I was oftentimes called to headquarters to discussions what Estonian harbors and “boats” could offer to Russian spy business in upcoming war. I tell you this in order to give you the idea about my “peaceful retirement” in Estonia that finally lead to my sudden fatal heart attack…

I worked hard, but was not able to create lasting wealth for my family, support them, and at the same time renovate  my bargain property. My world was spinning out of control, it was wounded by mutinies, wars and changes of political regimes.  Our parents were not able to fathom what our true expenses were in a faraway country, if you live amidst people who did not trust you, and, actually, does not need you there. My parents were not rich, and they were devastated by my apostasy, and converting to Christianity.

Luba’s father, Piotr Myasoyedov, an aristocrat and liberal who let her daughter marry a Jew, was not in touch with reality. He continued living large and left his beloved daughter Luba penniless. His repertoire listed all sins of Russian aristocracy — cards, Gypsies, coin collections, horses… Firstly, he gave up horses; next, he sacrificed Gypsies and lost his lust of life. Cards took away the rest of his wealth and selling his family collection of rare coins next to nothing, he came to Paide to die surrounded by family, children and grandchildren.

Firstly arrived impressive size wicker baskets from Jeliseev’s with delicatessens like cooked partridges, crystal jars with black caviar and boxed bottles of expensive French wines and Cognack … and then arrived he, the gentleman with hat and black chic walking cane topped by shiny golden knob in form of a lion’s head.

He and his walking stick! If some Estonian women forgot themselves to gossip in the middle of the sidewalk, with that cane he motioned them to step aside and give him the way. Then, slightly touching his hat, he thanked them politely, with a light trace of irony on his lips, and passed solemnly. Funny thing was that nobody had ever questioned his habit to exercise his aristocratic privileges. So deep was his faith into righteousness of given by birth entitlements! In Paide, he turned the unfinished second floor into his headquarters, as I called it, and recognized help from male servants only… I had to pay for a special male servant for him alone! He had his dignity, but were the thoughts about his daughter or grandchildren’s future ever crossing his mind? Maybe our real situation started to down on him gradually! He did not complain, but I could see that our life did not suit him at all. For him, it was too quiet, too boring, too modest. He missed the loud political discussions with inclusion some French words and his own eloquent speeches how to reform Russia. These speeches accompanied with wine lasted in Moscow from sunset to dawn… At one Sunday’s dawn hour, as if tired of his imaginary speeches that he was creating in his mind, this aristocrat and pagan in heart, put on a white shirt, sat under a young apple tree face turned toward rising Sun, fell asleep and never woke up again. Now I know that falling asleep on earth, he woke up on the other side of the veil…

T: – Did you meet him in afterlife?

GE: – Yes, he thanked me for taking care of Luba, and we never met again. So, I learned that in his mind, I was expected to take care of Luba and children whom he left next to nothing but memories. But my body gave up as well. Terrible food what I got in taverns while wheeling across the country contributed to my fall. All they offered were potatoes with greasy pork too heavy for my Jewish stomach taught not to eat pork during eons…

Fortunately, I died at home, in the most difficult moments of my relationship with Luba. No, please, don’t write about it, it is nobody’s business. She knew who I was and I knew who she was – educated in the institute for noble maidens where she was taught to speak French and was prepared to meet completely different life then she found in Paide, in the middle of so agricultural Estonia. There she could speak French to frogs and snakes during her bold trips to swampy forests around the city in search for some mushrooms and breath some fresh air and enjoy the nature, after all!

Something was wrong with our marriage. As a father, I loved your namesake, your aunt Tatyana who died at age 11, and two boys, the first ones, who died in the infancy… I loved them dearly. However, they arrived, the little angels, they blessed us with their smiles, cry, attempts to stand up and make their first steps, and … died. Maybe we were cursed, or some evil power was denying us happiness!

But Andrei, Vladimir, your father, and Yurik, the last one, survived. And as Luba’s father trusted his daughter to me, so I trusted Luba to the care of Andrei and Vladimir, and despite all the odds, wars and nightmare of the frequent change of political regimes, they continued our family’s sad tradition.

Tatyana: – Sad? When I showed up in that Paide scenario, my grand-grandfather Piotr Myasoedov and grandfather Grigory Elmanovich were long gone. But the old house, and our garden were still there maybe not for long, but long enough to seed in me the sense of beauty and everlasting expectation of wonder. I am now 82, but the memory of my childhood garden is still with me. This memory is like gate from ordinary life into magical wonderland where you are never alone or miserable or unhappy, you are always in touch with something greater than ordinary life. Today, about 80 years later, instead of serving endless needs of my ailing body, I can always to escape to my magical world where I would be again young and happy!

I remember my childhood as if being a little princess before I learned the true meaning of this title. I did not need fake crowns or pink puffy dresses because the garden treated me like one. Every morning, as if for me alone, fresh buds were stretching their colorful petals toward Sun becoming flowers, and the chorus of invisible birds was greeting the new day. If the day happened to be rainy, the birds sat quietly listening to the sounds of falling drops and honoring the magical feel of garden’s secret life, when flower spirits were creating a new display of fresh flowers that would come into being in some couple of days after raining stops. Now I can see that my dedushka had good taste, excellent sense of space and vivid imagination of a park planner… I suspect that I have inherited my green thumb and lifelong love toward plants directly from him.

GE: – Thank you, you are trying to tell that my efforts were not lost after all! My garden had helped to shape some souls! Viki told me the same!

T: – Not me alone. When Reds nationalized granny’s property and put town’s kindergarten in your house, many children enjoyed your glorious flower garden upended with mysterious gazebos, inside benches around the table for special, a very secret talks and playing seek and hide. I believe this garden shaped many souls of little men and women.

GE: – I did what I could, but granny was never entirely happy. When a mother’s children die, mother did not care about the world around her. I knew, sometimes she wanted to follow her children into better world, and I tried to keep her busy, but… I knew she thought that her children’s death was God’s punishment for marrying a Jew. Maybe she did not think so, but I assumed this because of the thick cloud of anti-Semitism mixed with the dislike of Russians what we breathed in could poison stronger minds than Luba’s or mine.

T: Grandfather, tell how did you left this world?

GE: -Once, getting out of bed, I decided to douse my torso with cold water, but on my way to well I stumbled at a tree root, lost my balance and fell on the ground. In short, I never reached the well, the last thing I saw were bushes of blooming lilacs that I loved so much. In your time it was already a high and thick wall of lilacs that guarded the privacy of the flower garden. So, the flower beds were not connected to the house, but belonged to gazebo, started the “Nevski prospect”, a straight wide path to the pond, on one side apple orchard and on the other side the plum trees. To me it was like Little Versile that you had visited and I did not get there during my lifetime. I said my thanks to that garden as my consciousness was fading, or so I believed. But no, my consciousness did not fell asleep. On the contrary, it was rather awakening in another garden, in the middle of a blooming meadow, also with lilac bushes here and there, but the lilacs were blooming more lavishly and their flowers were bigger and variation of colors was remarkably rich.

A young and beautiful woman was leaning over me, and I recognized her almost immediately. She was my mother. She arrived to meet me. She was crying, she asked forgiveness for trying to prevent my conversion to Christianity and condemning it, and leaving me alone and never truly supporting me, especially through my difficult university years when oftentimes, I was literally starving. Now she saw it all differently. Our so Jewish family, making me suffer, deprived itself from pleasure of meeting my children, her grandchildren. She started asking about them, and then we recalled old days, when I was her bebichka, this is how she called me. I can’t tell you the sense of peace and complete happiness that overwhelmed me during this meeting with my mother.  It reconciled me with my entire life on earth, I forgave yourself the betrayal of our ancient religion in the name of education*. I forgave yourself for accepting to collect taxes, for being part of tsarist security forces and getting for this unholy work the honorable status of “nominal nobility” in tsarist Russia.

I saw my entire life in new light, and I recalled that I married a young and beautiful woman and how perfectly happy I was at that time, and I think Luba was happy as well.

Luba asked to extend you the invitation to stay with us after your transition. I mean, drop everything, finish this story and come to us, and you will be fine. You are done here. Nothing is tying you to life on earth, as you have no friends and you do not have any unfinished businesses to carry on. I listened how you talked with a woman who called you a minute ago interrupting our conversation. This merzavka called to tell you that she was not able to hand a rare but difficult spirit message to people to whom it was addressed, but whom you were not able to reach directly, but  she could. Easily! As the spirit message was accompanied by an intense suggestion to deliver it at any cost, nepremenno, you delegated this task to a mutual acquaintance. We know  that former Soviet people do not trust each other and suspecting everybody to lie.  And she did! The caller lied to you! She did pass that message to her friends immediately leaving you hanging what to do next. I am telling you this, you did the trick, the addressee received the life changing message from beyond. Forget them all!

On the other side, my mother and I, we were still talking on that blooming meadow when space started changing into a nice plaza of a village. I was going to meet the unknown force, my new “bosses” to be. Soon I was standing in front of the imposing building, the Temple of Justice. I crossed the threshold and asked why I can’t find my way home, because my family was waiting for me to Sunday breakfast and tomorrow I have to go to Viljandi, because I am from Estonia… I mumbled these absurdities realizing that something important has happened to me. How to describe it, what was it, and what these important people in this important building wanted from me? They looked at me, an obnoxious arrival, with unbearable pity. So, I learned that I was dead already and my absence from Sunday breakfast will be readily pardoned. A strong hand was guiding me through a high doorway and I was in a hall that had some resemblance with the Russian Orthodox Church typical interior. But not entirely, it was rather an eclectic mixture of religious symbols, architectural details, some sculptures of the past and future. Did it have a meaning and did I have to pay attention to it? I complained that I left so suddenly having no chance to say my goodbyes to my loved ones and I asked the permission to visit my funerals. I gave them a word of a gentleman that I would not run away, or hide in some impossible to reach places. For some reason it made them laugh, and they – kind of – started liking me.

In short, I got to my funerals in time and I stood there in capacity of an invisible guest facing the terrible hole in earth together with my mourning family through the entire ceremony, until it all was over to everyone’s great relief, mine included.

Tell your folks not to puff up your funerals when it comes to it! Luba’s father spent his last pennies on cooked partridges, and Luba followed the suit. She spent our last pennies on the wake for me treating these all ridiculous old farts, ladies in  shabby, dusty, and darned vintage dresses  with torn rushes, yellowed collars, missing buttons, faded ribbons and veils of yore. Now these shadows of once great empire swirled around her, creating the illusion of some social life.

People do not realize that all the commotion around wakes is aggrandizing grief, ego and the importance of the event. For us it is a nothing, a crap. We do not need it, because it pulls down, and oftentimes makes you feel guilty. You are done with the nightmare called life on earth, but your loved ones are still there and fighting and struggling to make ends meet.

I was back in court, so, I was worried, I was out of excuses to ask for more delays with my trial. I knew that I would take what they would give me. I was told to calm down, as I had nothing to worry about. But you can say to a man whatever you want. The vibrations of negative earth experiences, memories of uncomfortable moments, failures, clumsiness, fears, lies, stubbornness, jealousy were running through my entire body with inconceivable rapidity making me to have seizures and cry. Suddenly these strange vibrations stopped. An Orthodox Jew  was looking at me intently. He struck up a small talk, grabbed me by the elbow, and pushing me forward we started our long walk through various rooms until we entered a large meeting hall that somehow reminded a Church, Synagogue and Sorbonne University at a time. On earth, I dreamed one day become a student of Sorbonne University, but it never happened.

What do you think, why I chose the Baltic States after my Teheran affair was over, the ambassador for whom I worked, retired, and we returned to Moscow. I was asked where I want to live, and I chose Baltic States as closer to Europe as possible.

Now I was shaking from fear, as I gathered that I would be judged by Jews and therefore would be never forgiven for conversion to Christianity. I stood there in front of a row of judges. There were about twelve of them, all orthodox rabis, bearded and hairy, law-abiding pedants, the most bigoted judges. I realized that this was the most unfavorable setting there could be, and I readied myself for the worst outcome possible. They sank into long silence. Finally, one bearded mouth shouted, “Repent, repent, and repent,  you, a convert!” However, being still a Jew, I exploded saying loudly and clearly, “I will not repent!”

There was silence again, and I heard the verdict: “He is not a coward! But now he is not a Jew as well, but maybe he is still a Jew and will come back to us after what he had on earth, a home teacher, a tax collector, a government spy… and when his cup filled up, he gave himself permission to die, an easy way out! And he died leaving his wife, a Russian aristocrat, without means to make ends meet, to carry on after his death! What now, maybe you will change your mind, and will repent, you bastard! His aristocratic wife spent the last money on decent funerals of this Jew, her husband who preferred to escape into death instead of putting up a fight for his family and his four sons. You, the convert, you left your sons penniless to make life for themselves, like real Jews, among unfriendly people who did not trust, did not like and did not pay Russians… And you refuse repent!

Would you be a real Jew, you would steal, denounce, to cheat for your wife and children… and other Jews would help and support you, how was it to spend a lifetime without support? Working for police, you became a law-abiding pedant at heart yourself! You do- not-steal-do-not-cheat attitude came from your aristocratic wife, and her inborn dignity that was not your inborn feature. But on the other hand, you remained a Jew, and you climbed high enough in your situation! For your work for Imperial Secret Services you were awarded with the honorable title of nominal nobility, and you did not leave any spots on the name of Jewish nation with stealing, cheating, or getting low! We respect you for it! But you should be able to count money and will have to learn this. And as a suitable punishment for letting down your wife, we propose the following: one more lifetime to live with the same woman and make up for leaving her without any means to feed the family. Your posterity was left penniless amidst unfriendly people of other nationality and other religion. The special thank personally from us for observing the sacred Jewish custom of honoring book and creating a remarkable home library.

A word about your future.  Your Estonian umbrella was difficult, who likes a tax collector, and your post’s name “excise official” does not make a tax collector more loveable human being. But your direct boss in St. Petersburg Headquarters, instead of paying you more, stole money from you… Instead of fighting the wolf, the bustard, you nodded and played a yes-man. You were afraid to lose the job. But a good fist work during a party for men only would do more than nodding! They would never fire you because of your real work in Secret Services Department. Because of this, in your next lifetime you will be a researcher in an important study of similarities and differences in religions that would stand for tolerance, reconciliation and against religious fanaticism. You will be attacked from both sides — by Orthodox Jews and by Orthodox Russians, and you have to learn to fight, to insist, and to win and ask real money for your work. Now for your penalty, you will be guided to your home, the astral replica of your home on earth, to your wife who is aware of your arrival. So you will start your penalty right away, already during your life in the Astral world.  But one more time, thank you for not profane Jews with stealing, lying and betrayal. The penalty was not given for conversion, you did not betrayed God, because we have ONE GOD for all religions, so how can conversion betray GOD? It is simply impossible, convert to whatever religion you can think of, you will still face the same God! Truly, what difference it makes in what garb one reveres God!

I started thank them, but they stopped my thanks saying that they do not serve in St. Petersburg Government Departments where you thanked your bosses who stole from your salary! Stop thanking, as we did our job! It may happen that we offer you to start studying some chapters of history of world religions while staying here, if you will, or find it interesting! See you around.

One more note from the medium.
Editing this post, and checking my facts about Maluta Skuratov, a paragraph in Russian on the site “Russian  seven” caught my attention:

Неправильно видеть в Малюте одного лишь толкового палача. Он был хитрым и расчетливым придворным. После своего возвышения он выдал своих дочерей за представителей знатнейших фамилий. Одна дочь Скуратова стала женой князя Глинского, другая – Дмитрия Шуйского, брата Василия Шуйского. Третья дочь Мария вышла замуж за  Бориса Годунова и сама стала царицей. http://russian7.ru/2013/12/7-pravdivyx-faktov-o-malyute-skuratove;

Maluta, starting as a nobody, was more than tsar’s enthusiastic butcher. He was the Ivan’s manipulative servant as well. Reaching the real power, he settled his family affairs most successfully. One daughter became a wife of duke Galitsin, another daughter became wife of Dmitri Shuisky, (top elite family of  Ivan’s time) and the third daughter married future tsar Boris Godunov, becaming herself the tsarinna.

In order to support his family Maluta Skuratov did whatever it take, like torturing and murdering without any count or hesitation, and spent centuries in the darkest corner of hell in his afterlife…  This is something to think about, isn’t it?