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Cleansing the Spirit of My Mother Tamara

November 23, 2017

Cannot say how others passed such tests, but in my case, when the attempts to support my spiritual growth with prayers and meditations enabled me to communicate with spirits, when I started to hear them, and could talk to them, it made me face my childish idealizations of  my loved ones. In brief, instead of finding more love in my heart, oftentimes  I found vacuum…

…and the real struggle began to learn tо love what I saw, not what I believed to be there!

For instance, for me the idealization number ONE turned to be the belief shared by so many that death will make us omnipotent, will increase our memory about 100 times, will better our ability to assimilate knowledge in no time, and make us, if we chose so, to become guardians for people on earth. And I had mentioned it in my book “Prisoners of Fame”.

Today it has become common knowledge that death is not a baby sitter.  It helps a soul to fly over limbo abyss to the astral world, but it would not change the soul immediately, on the contrary, it freezes the soul’s change! Stupid remains stupid, talented remains talented, angry remains angry…  Mediums, OBE travelers, alternative healers started write about it already some years ago. Still, in most cases, readers do not think that this revelation goes to them as well.  The power of a long enough nourished superstition is strong, indeed!

The next shiny idealization of mine crowned what I was thinking about the seers! I will not point my finger at any soul adviser on earth who had become drug addict or alcoholic in our so-called heaven, as a matter of fact “a couple of spins” away from us, as a talented spirit said once! In brief, I saw seers almost like saints on earth, and experienced true shock discovering that after their transition some souls of them dwell on the lowest levels of the astral world – for considering themselves above people like you and me.

And, there is a hardest to deal with idealization of our parents that we try to avoid dealing with as long as possible.

… On one fateful day, back in 2005, I could not stop thinking about my mother in Estonia. There was no reason for a call as we had talked some days ago about everything we had to tell each other.  I tried to think about some decent excuses to call, found none, and called anyway – from my Los Angeles apartment to Tallinn, Estonia. My brother Vsevolod happened to be in her room at that late hour in North Europe, and picked up the phone. He said that Mother was having flue and he dropped by to check that she had taken her medicine and now she was trying to get some sleep. Nevertheless, he announced my call and advised my mother to talk to me on the phone. Mother did not talk, she was listening… or sensing what was coming from me to her. She was glad that I had called as she had to tell me something important beyond words… I also stopped making up words, and fell in silence letting our wordless messages to fly back and forth from Tallinn to Los Angeles. “Mama, talk,” my brother rushed her. However, she kept her silence, we continued to listen in quietude how our souls were conversing, and this was the best, and maybe the only sensible “conversation” we ever had.
In four hours, brother called me from Estonia. After my phone call mother fell asleep and died shortly, leaving her body for good in sleep! She was 3 weeks short from her 99th birthday. Here comes a funny picture of her at that age.
Yes, granny, look, my house is now on the other sxde of this little lake

Once visiting Estonia, her grandson Vladimir Elmanovich, American architect, walked his grandmother to the beach and joked, “Look, granny, across that Atlantic lake, over there, by the sea, is my house, do you see it?’ Granny laughed, and played along, “looking across the Atlantic lake!” Despite her age, she managed to keep her sense of humor alive and mind clear up to the last day on earth. 

After my mother’s transition to the better world, I received two spirit messages from her.  She asked me to light a candle when I was thinking of her as the same candle would appear in her dwelling nook enlivening the sense of being in touch with family on earth. In the last message, she said that my father Vladimir, who was enlisted into army at the beginning of the WWII, and whom war had never returned to her, found her, and now they were together in their afterlife.

However, “they lived happily ever after” turned to be the next idealization – now theirs, not mine that they had let go. Father’s war, and mother’s joyless life on earth had changed both. And this was not my father, but my mother who made me rethink everything that I have learned about her so far. I was approached by a spirit of a Hollywood star of the 50s who asked solemnly to be heard out regarding my mother’s situation. He said that my mother was … pregnant! He added, “She will give birth to a creature and she will be fine again, but…” I decided that my guest was rehearsing a role of a sci-fy movie in his upcoming incarnation. However, my guest was not done yet, as he had more to say. He reminded that after my mother’s transition she was met nicely by everyone who shared their afterlife stories for the book “Prisoners of fame.” Nevertheless, she misread that kindness and crossed the boundaries. In other words, I was asked to talk to her, and explain her who was who in the astral field allotted for the Golden Hollywood stars. He said that time to time they had similar problems with family members of some successful actors and, especially, actresses. My mother arrived to visit Golden Hollywood garden on her own pestering actors in search on certain experiences.

The cold shiver ran down my spine. My promise to take care of her improper intrusions onto their lives wrapped up our pleasant conversation. He left, and I started my investigation what did happen to my mother on the other side of the veil. In short, my mother fell in love with a suspicious stranger whom she met on the streets of the astral world. Or he befriended her, as a promising subject? I was told that he was a handsome brunet with sexy mustache, friendly smile and very white teeth that helped him, a recruiter of volunteers to be Guinea pigs for researchers in exchange for a small piece of independent living space. My mother Tamara was introduced to the boss of these researchers, and she agreed … to give birth in experimental condition to an experimental entity… The new man in her life was supposed to wait for her on “their bench” in a small park close to the laboratory building. But he was not there when my excited mother was looking for him to share the great news that she was accepted, and that since now, since the very moment in her “now” she was already earning independent space for him and her – for living happily ever after independently, in a small house or apartment as long as it would be needed! She said that she was impregnated artificially immediately, and released back to the streets to share with him this great news.

The only problem was that there was no one to share this news. The new man in her life has disappeared in thin air. My mother was looking for him, the one whom she preferred to my father. Soon the truth started to dawn on her that she was used for becoming a volunteer to aid a dark undertaking.  The rumors that these researchers were in Frankenstein business started to catch up with her. And she started annoying men in the streets with certain offerings. She hated when her acquaintances tried to straight her out. She asked them to stop moralizing as they had no idea what her life on earth was all about. All she knew was hard work, and no fun some months short from 100 years on earth. She was convinced that it entitled her for compensation so freely available in her afterlife! She, the daughter of a Russian priest, will not burden God with her problems, instead, she will take her destiny in her own hands. She continued to terrorize her acquaintances with hypothetic question why they were itching to educate her now after she had dragged children, husband’s sick mother, and her two helpless sisters through the war, then across the hungry and dangerous post war decades, the terror of mass deportations to Siberia, and being persuaded to become a KGB informer, and looking daily at her hook in dusty attic for hanging herself, if she would be not able to get them off her back. At that time, nobody taught her how to survive and make hay for the cow to feed children. She threw into their faces, “Mind your business, leave me alone!” to all her former relatives, friends, and – me included!

However, the day arrived, when she accepted my modest offer to attempt to heal her.

After usual preparation for healing, prayer and meditation, I appealed for help to my mother Tamara’s guides and asked my IT,  stands for Invisible Translator, to turn the current energy of healing into metaphorical images for guides to erase or transform them.

When I focused on the condition of Tamara’s solar plexus chakra on earth, I got images about her hay making days. … She was in a hurry to remove dry hay into barn, because the dark heavy rain clouds were thickening above her head, above her rented piece of land where the hay was growing, had been mowed, dried, and transported to the barn. Dry grass was scratching her hands and legs, it slipped under her shirt, but she continued to lift pitchfork after pitchfork with heavy loads of hay on the cart to get it under the protective roof of the barn. When the first heavy drops of rain began to fell on her sweaty face, hay was already removed, she managed to save not only hay, but all her unbearable haymaking overwork, at least for now! I prayed asking LIGHT to remove these hay images out of her solar plexus area. Of course, the cleansing did not end there, it continued…

Later I was approached by a spirit friend, and the load of hay was taken out… from my third chakra area and instruction was given how to avoid picking up trash from my relatives’ and friends’ solar plexus area, the energy center that is so readily harboring our and other people’s negativity, if we do not know how to let it go!

Mother’s spirit did not show up anymore and the day arrived when I thanked her in my mind, sending her light and love and releasing this woman who once gave me body into her life, her experiences and her future incarnations. This was when we parted for good!

She did not needed my love, or healing, or family any more. All what she was looking for was freedom of expression. Instead of fulfilling obligation almost 100 years on earth, she started on her path of self discovery that did not included me or my father or her parents any more.

 

A Talk from Beyond the Grave

The Voice of  the General Ivan Ivanovich Michelson (1740 – 1807) sounded so contemporary, as if he was living among us today!  

I.I. Michelson

My maternal grandmother Anna Sirotina (nee Michelson), AnnaIIa quiet and patient women whom I did not meet on earth, but met in spirit while working on the manuscript of the book “Healing Meditation,” mentioned that her grandfather was а military in times of the empress Catherine The Great. Both English and Russian versions of Wikipedia described this military man as follows.

In Russian and English Wikipedia Ivan Ivanovich Michelson, in German Johann von Michelsonen (3 May 1740 – 17 August 1807) was a Baltic-German military commander who served in the Russian Imperial Army. He was a prominent general in several wars, but his most noted contribution was his critical role in suppressing Pugachev’s Rebellion.

Michelson was born in Revel (Tallinn) in the Governorate of Estonia to a family of noble rank. He was a practicing Lutheran and a Mason. His early military career saw him serve as a cavalry officer in many conflicts: The Seven Years’ War, The Russo-Turkish War of 1768-1774, and the war against The Bar Confederation.

In year 1774 Ivan Michelson  was trusted to lead the government forces against the Yemelyan Pugachev’s revolt (1773-1775) and at a time colonel-lieutenant Ivan Michelson , later full colonel, then general, crushed the rebellion at Tsaritsin (Stalingrad), captured Pugachev and handed him over to the authorities. Soon after that Pugachev was executed in Moscow in January 1775.

catherine-the-great

Catherine the Great awarded Michelson with numerous honors: an estate in Vitebsk Governorate, the Gold Sword for Bravery with Diamonds, and the rank of full colonel.

museum013_06s

When I was writing the blog article “The Partition”, it attracted the attention of Johann von Michelsonen: I heard a male voice who spoke Russian with light German accent.  We started a conversation. He lived in 18th century, we live in the 21st century, nevertheless, he sounded so contemporary and gave so deep insights what did happen during his time on earth that I found it to be my duty to introduce this voice to readers. Life is going on after so-called death, as our consciousness does not die. After reading this one you may conclude that nothing is as important on earth as learning whatever we can learn, because in the next world our positive achievements will become a part of our mind that will never betray us both in the next world and in our future incarnations on earth.

Johann von Michelsonen: — Do not exaggerate the implications of this relationship. Being already in the astral world, I was not able to interfere into Anna’s life on earth.

T: —  Anna’s marriage to Mikhail Sirotin was not a happy one.

J.M: — I am sure, if I could, I would never allow this marriage to occur, and probably, I could be wrong. We learned and took heart on the battlefields, and we were rewarded with amazing diamond toys, like I was, but they did not make me neither better, nor happier, but rather vice versa. I was attacked by the anger and jealousy of those who stood closer to the Empress Catherine The Great than I did. I know that you have met Pushkin. Please, can you arrange a meeting with Pushkin, it’s easier for me to talk to him directly. Call and he will come. Tell him that I have read his “The Captain’s Daughter,” a notable historical novel about the Pugachev’s Rebellion published in year 1836.A.P. 1

Captain's Daughter

T: — Pay attention! It is remarkable that J.M. read “The Captain’s Daughter” written seven decades after the Pugachev’s rebellion, and published in 1836, three decades after the general’s death in 1807, isn’t it? In other words, in the afterlife, if we like, we can be actively involved in events of life of culture on earth. Pay attention to the end words of this post said by of Alexander Pushkin regarding the UK serial “Father Brown” (2013).

It was Vladimir Vysotsky who arranged the meeting of Michelson with Pushkin. They talked hours. Pushkin said, “If I would have chance to talk with Ivan Ivanovich in my time, I would write another book about this Rebellion.”

The general Michelson met also the Sirotins’ family.

FamilyGrandpaMichailMama with kin

The next day our conversation continued. I could sense that there were things that he wanted to get out of his chest.

J.M: — They (the Russian militaries) were afraid of him (Pugachev), because there was a share of guilt, a very large share of guilt amidst the Russian aristocracy and nobility stemming from how they had treated their people. They had humiliated and hurt them badly people, very badly, and the pain and shame and anger started to accumulate in the heart on that nation.

T: — Was it the same anger that would lead to The Russian Revolution, the devastating Russian Civil War and Bolshevik’s Red Terror? Yes, from the esoteric point of view, the thought forms of pain, shame and anger remain intact in the air for a very long time. Our modern science is still not ready to deal with the phenomena of thought forms. Plato, the ancient philosopher wrote about “the world of subtle images of everything we have on earth”, but as contemporary science cannot see or measure this world of the higher vibrations, from scientific point of view, it does not exist. Nevertheless, the extra sensitive tell us that in Germany the thought forms of torturous pain and fear caused by the Nazi’s unprecedented concentration camps, or the thought forms of the mob’s enthusiasm over Hitler’s speeches are still there. In Russia, the pain, fear, nightmarish atmosphere is still hovering over brutal battlefields like battlefields near Moscow, including the first Soviet contra offensive that stopped the Barbarossa blitzkrieg plans, the battlefields at Kursk, Kiev, Sevastopol, Stalingrad, Kharkov, Poland, Berlin. In Siberia, the deeply destructive thought forms are still hovering above the merciless Gulags for Russians and smaller nations under the Soviet rule. These ruinous thought forms are still attracting same, or near-same thought forms according to the basic cosmic law of attraction.

russia-peasants-grangerJ.M: — The centuries of anger were manifested by the Bolsheviks’ during the era of “the proletarian dictatorship,” at times, exceeding the horrors committed by the Russian tsars. They were not Russians, and they did not understand their subjects, and they did not want to know!

Ironically, I was closer to the people, because I was a German in their eyes, and even you heard my German accent, I choked when I got it.

T: — He paused talking, “listening” to my reaction of surprise, when I recognized the German accent in which the letter “v” sounds more like “f”! In everything else, his Russian was flawless.

J.M: — I thought you would never hear it, but you did. You have to be a real medium! I took Pugachev, because I was a German, and I had no sense of guilt or inconvenience obstructing my duty to suppress the rebellion. I hadn’t hold anyone in “the black body,” instead, they held me in dislike for being a German, who, as it seemed to them, had taken careers and earnings from them. Many Germans were invited to come to Russia as masters and professions, but we were treated as intruders, as a “nemtshura”, as they called us. They believed that we, the Germans took away their honor, dignity and the opportunities to earn as part some dark conspiracy meant to ruin Russians.  I did not see Pugachev as part of people, but as a state criminal who killed and ruined and destroyed and dishonored along with his crazy gang of drunkards much more than was shown in the official state reports. The military hid its inability either think or respond to rebels’ fierce attacks.

Yemelka (the nick-name for Yemelyan Pugachev) walked and was at the beginning victorious, because our generals were drinking, eating, and could not get out of their women, sat around doing nothing, gaining fat. Finally, the empress, also a German practical woman, sorted out the military folks that she could count on, and selecting a dozen, like myself not-loved the not-Russians under the Russians rule, gave us powers and sent us to do the job, clean up the rebellion. And in a couple of months, we did what we called to do. The rebellion was suppressed, and the nightmare was over.

I captured Pugachev effortlessly. He was also already mellowed from drinking and eating too much. His inner circle was already quarreling, and I took them without any significant losses. I passed the arrested Pugachev to general Panin, and was ready to go home. It seemed to me that, in a way, the captivated Pugachev was relieved that he was freed from promises, expectations and responsibilities too big for him to be carried out. Besides, he was able to foresee that the drunk and quarreling Cossacks would sooner or later either murder him, or hand him over to authorities for some rewards. He knew what was waiting him, he was no fool, and he did not fear the ax, he had his party, but now it was over! So be it!

Pugachev[1]

Yemelyan Pugachev, “Forgive me, the nation of the Russian Orthodoxy.” The capital punishment of Yemelyan Pugachev. The painting by Viktor Matorin 

And then, already at home resting – I was very surprised that I had earned an expensive toy, a sword adorned with diamonds. But what such a saber is suitable for? Only for hanging on the wall as a decorative toy! Who would sharpen this kind of sword for taking it to the battlefield?

Let’s talk about our affair. Yes, Anya is my granddaughter, a direct heiress, and I am very saddened by what did happen to her. But I am grateful to you that it was you who, in fact, almost a stranger to us, helped her more than all my relatives did. You say the word “karma”, we had no such word. But I think I understand what it means. And I only know that my Anya will never meet any of these people again. If she had some karma on her, she paid it off 10 times.

She is on her way back to her people, as many of my ancestors, and many other Germans  are. They came to Russia being tempted by the empty promises of Peter the Great, and other Russian tsars. Experiencing what they experienced, they are now on the way back to their people. I do not want to complain, I served, I did my part, and if the day will come when I will be called back on earth, I will be again the military man. But not in Russia anymore. Many men like me were being safeguarded for the fights in the terrible wars in Africa and in Europe between Europeans and the African nations. TodaIn Europe, there is similar anger accumulating as it was in Russia before the revolution. I guess, today you cannot imagine what kind, and in what amount the anager, the madness, the desperation was accumulating because of the stupid, stupid policies of the Russians Monarchs,   because the Romanov’s were nicihtozhestvo – an empty nothingness!

Thanks for your lovely, so Russian tea!

I know that Pushkin wrote about Pugachev, I want to talk to him, because he was wrong about something.  Maybe in future, he will be able to fix it. He embroidered the robber too much. I told him where he felt the truth, and where he was carried away by the romanticism, the main trend of literature during his days on earth.

Thank you, thank you for Anya, this was Ivan Ivanovich Michelson , the General Michelson  who spoke to you. You wrote about Anya correctly, she will never live in Russia again, all the ruined souls by the Bolsheviks and Gulags will not return to Russia, never! For them there would be allotted another place to live. For me too. My life in Russia was terribly hard. I was not loved not only because I was German national, but because I was skilled in my job, I was learned how to do my military job, I knew what to do on a battlefield. My home will be with Germans who will pay for what was done to Jews. It will be not the Germany as we know it today. The present day Germany will disappear, in its place, there will be a body of water instead. We will not be called Germans, we will be called completely differently. We will work on restoration of Israel, we will pay our debt by working for Jews. And we will be given a huge free space next to Israel, there we will live and build, and from that spot, Israel and our new land – a new civilization will take roots.

T: — And what will happen to the Russians?

J.M: — They will be also distinct. Russians will degrade because of self-destruction, because the finer souls, by the way – you too — will not return neither to Russia, not to Estonia. Today Estonians drink like Russians, no good for them either! Continue learning English, take the rudiments of the French, and languages will do for you in the astral world. Sasha (nickname for Alexander Pushkin) is waiting for me, we continue our talk.

A.P: — Tatyana, it’s me. I need a word with him. (I.I. Michelson). I have more questions. Everything was arranged perfectly. The general suffers his untreated sores, and our Russian doctors undertook to treat him. His granddaughter Anya, as he calls her, will be with him all the time.

VV guitare

Our helmsman Vladimir Vysotsky had no mercy on the priest Mikhail, Anya’s husband, who cursed aristocrats his entire life, being unaware of being an abandoned at birth aristocrat himself.  Vysotsky took the trouble to explain to him in clear Russian what Father Mikhail had done to himself, his wife and their children by cursing aristocrats on the daily basis. The old man completely squeaked, he stormed to see Serafim Sarovsky, a Russian saint in the Russian hierarchy on the other side, for advice how to remove the curses… Leave them now alone. Enjoy the next episode of the “Father Brown.” Closer to the end they are running out of steam…
T: — Maybe it was so, but I still enjoyed watching it to the end. Because here, its humanness was so effectively set off against the flow of mystery and detective stories about the brutal murders and decomposing corpses which are used to entertain us in evening hours before we go to sleep!

How can we, modest mediums and esotericists, clairvoyants and masons, shamans and alternative healers explain to the powerful class of producers that sooner or later the artistic images of murderers and corpses from our TV screens will materialize and hunt their victims in flesh, for real, on earth! I hope that the day will come, when science will catch up with the ancient knowledge about the thought forms, and use it for good things, as they do today, using invisible X-rays to diagnose decease and find better cure to heal it.

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The Meditation on Gogol in Afterlife

Gogol portrait

Nikolai Gogol (1809-1852). Quotes

“I am who I am and that’s who I am.”

“The longer and more carefully we look at a funny story, the sadder it becomes.”

“We have the marvelous gift of making everything insignificant.”

“There are occasions when a woman, no matter how weak and impotent in character she may be in comparison with a man, will yet suddenly become not only harder than any man, but even harder than anything and everything in the world.”

“…nothing could be more pleasant than to live in solitude, enjoy the spectacle of nature, and occasionally read some book…”

“They don’t listen to me, they don’t hear me, they don’t see me.”

“Countless as the sands of the sea are human passions.”

“But wise is the man who disdains no character, but with searching glance explores him to the root and cause of all.”

Good Reads Collection of quotes from The Dead Souls, The Mad Man’s Diary and Gogol’s Short Stories.

The Author’s Note. During Gogol’s life, his works were translated in Czechoslovakian, German, Polish, French, Sweden, Serbian and English languages. During the following 160 years, this list has expanded including Italian, Japanese, Chinese, Greece, Finnish, Norway, Persian, and Arabic languages. The formerly named countries have presented new versions of translations of Gogol’s works. Marc Chagall created 96 etchings to illustrate “The Les Âmes mortes (Dead Souls), the French publication, 1948. A copy of this edition is kept by MoMA, New York — collection.

Meditation on Gogol’s Spirit Heart

My meditation is in full swing. In the purple light of the “Third Eye” area, I see a black marble slab, a stand for a sculpture trending in the 60’s. It depicting a hand with long thin fingers typical of a man born under the auspices of the constellation of Pisces. This was how the otherworldly forces showed the Writer’s afterlife. His name is Nikolai Gogol, he is a Russian Ukrainian-born writer who reached immortality by the deceptive simplicity of his stories and merciless laugh at the cost of his characters and their miserable spiritual aspirations, as if dictated by the Russian national soul always chastising itself for indulging the weaknesses of its favorite creatures. Or maybe I was given a hint that Gogol’s unforgettable characters were written more by the master’s mind, his pitiless eye than the voice of his heart? His Akaki Akakievich the shy, quiet clerk from “The Overcoat,” a complete nobody, the hand-copier of documents in an important office in the icy capital of Imperial Russia, Saint Petersburg. This smallish minion put pennies aside during a decade or longer dreaming about a warm overcoat. Finally, he showed off his overcoat at work, and lost it the same day being robbed on a cold and dark and windy street returning home from a theater. He attended the theatre out of fear to vex with declining bosses invitation, as the custom was to keep the boss company during +his theatrical outings.
Or Gogol’s immortal character – Chichikov from “The Dead Souls”, who visited provincial landlords and buying cheaply their dead serfs. The transfer of these names onto his list of serfs would build the impression in Saint Petersburg of being a rich landlord. It would imply automatically the ownership of big land and grant unlimited loans that would make our swindler rich! Of course, this plan of Chichikov would never materialize… By the way, during 2016 presidential election, one party accused the other one of adding to their voters’ lists the names of the dead voters, I forgot which party was the perpetrator, and which one was the whistler-blower.

Chichikov

From Alami collection of illusratins to “Dead Souls”. “The Dead Souls’ hero Chichikov 

The meditation continues. The weak light of candles breaks barely through heavy darkness of the evening sermon in an empty astral church, the orthodox choir’s sweet chants are softening the feel of gloom, but the Tsarist Gate** covered by Byzantine classic, strict and so minimalist icons of saints in richly gilded frames, probably to empress the poor, was tightly closed emanating waves of unease and secrecy.

My concentration was dissipating. I started my prayer beckoning the golden light to see the upper chakras… What I was hoping to see in the world beyond where past, present and future merge into something that we would never understand completely, and be always left with more questions than venturing out into meditation? Was I thinking clearly when was asking for a look at Gogol’s chakras who was already in spirit! Nevertheless, the golden ray seemed to oblige, as it gave me picture of a non-existing chakra. Was Almighty golden light improvising, or it had reproduced these chakras from Writer’s past on earth? Whatever it was, in my third eye, there were picture of Gogol’s chakras. The golden ray encounters a thin, impenetrable shell around the “spiritual heart” of the spirit. Can it be that instead of a picture of the real heart, I saw the picture of Gogol’s spiritual heart?  Does it exist? Either the access to Gogol’s problems was denied to me, or I was getting off the right track made available to me by my guides? I decide to follow the direction where ever it would lead me.

Unexpectedly, I find myself at the throat chakra, or rather, at the slice of this chakra – given as a picture of a cream fancy collar on portraits of Hispanic or Venetian grandees. Out of the neckline of the luxurious garments, a fine corrugated collar was falling onto their shoulders. But, alas, the edges of this magnificent “collar” were burnt and looked like the net of thin channels, clogged and burned. The channels became blocked to the energy coming from outer space.

Writer’s biographers testify that at the end of his short earthly path the Writer complained that what was coming through was not exactly what he was looking for, in other words he was speaking about the writer’s block. … I remember reading about the famous writer’s crisis in my youth, I perceived these complaints as coquetry of a genius. The harsh era of the proletarian dictatorship with its postulates of Marxism clouded not only my perception. Even at school, children were taught that “Dead Souls” are “social criticism of the landlord class”. Then, on the eve of Gorbachev’s Perestroika, more advanced readers appeared, as a gift from behind the cordon, a collection of lectures on Gogol read by Nabokov in America that did not exist for us. The author of “Lolita” and “The Gift” claimed quite different. In other words, Nabokov reevaluated the Gogol’s aesthetics, and as a result, the splendid writer became again fashionable and re-readable by that part of the Russian advanced literature loving public which dictated hard (way harder than in America) what to read and what to ignore.

And it happened exactly when the Soviet government, to the astonishment of the whole world collapsed overnight. Not a single tear was shed over that collapse, and the red “knizhechki” – covers of membership in the CPSU, were amicably returned to the party committees throughout the country. Today, the faithful descendants of the cowardly and thievish heroes of The Dead Souls had forgotten their unanimous zeal of renouncing Communism. While continuing to plunder the country, they accuse Gorbachev of betrayal, and are pining for Stalin’s strong hand. Well, we truly are the family of Bobchinskys and Dobchenskys, Chichikovs and Hlestakovs, the Gogol’s heroes.

But I who meditate have been distracted, let continue! …The mystical scissors in my astral hand were gently cutting the charred edge of the “collar”. Now I see the net of thin channels running from throat chakra, the “control panel” of communication, down to the heart chakra with the tender Vedic name Anahata. Here I see a withered hand and an elongated jar with dried jam on the bottom. The hand barely enters it the sleeve touching the inside wall of the can. Thin fingers, twisted with rheumatism, long lost their former flexibility and dexterity, try to extract from the dry brownish jam something like fly or spider. Probably, once this preserve was fresh and attractive, and exuded the smell of forest berries … I ask for more light, and I see that it was not a spider but Egyptian Scarab that I found in the astral vision of Gogol’s heart chakra.

I break out of mediation and jump to my computer, the source of our superficial knowledge about everything. The Internet explains: “Scarab is a symbol of the Egyptian god Keper, the deity of the Sun, who rolls the Sun’s globe across the sky. It was a symbol of rebirth. On some mummies heart were put ‘heart scarabs’ as a sign of rebirth. ”

Alternative names of this insect god are Khepera, Khepra, Khepri, Khopri, Kheprer, or Chepera. The Scarab was the most potent symbol of the ancient Egypt, primarily symbolizing the sun, resurrection, transformation and protection. It was also the symbol of immortality and rebirth. And scarab amulets and talismans, carved from valuable stones, were buried with mummies. www.landofpyramids.org/khepri.htm.

skarab 1

I return to meditation. In that jar, fingers release the scarab, and the black beetle smoothly sinks back to the bottom of the jar, which – at least for me – personifies the Gogol’s mummy. Once, the spirit of Marlene Dietrich, while I was working on the manuscript of “Prisoners of Fame,” talked about her conviction that Gogol’s souls and hers originate from the same batch of aliens who were sent to help earthlings in their development. She personally did not meet Gogol, as they lived in different centuries, different countries, served different cultures. Nevertheless, Marlene Dietrich’s surprising claim regarding resemblance of their faces is obvious. Where they both coming from the same stock of aliens? Yuktesvar said, “Hard to confirm, easy to deny, but I would not, because in spirit world everything is possible!”

similarity of two faces
Marlene believes that Gogol and she stem from one bunch of aliens sent to advance earth development

Maybe eons ago, an earthling or alien who loved the soul that evolved into Gogol, put on “heart” of his mummy, maybe at the last minute of the burial ceremony, a scarab to guard the deceased in the land of the dead! Who was that someone whom Gogol’s soul hold so dear that he still had not found his soulmate? Why I did let the scarab to sink back to the bottom of the jar? Maybe I was supposed to do the opposite, threw the scarab into the cosmic dump of useless memories and rid Gogol of this annoying reminder of someone who once stole his soul? But was it my duty to judge? In short, the scarab returned to the mummy to guard it from earthly accidental attachments.

I listen to the silence. It looks like Gogol’s angels have not much to say…  However, I was spoken to anyway! My spirit helpers encouraged me to continue. They invited me to help to ease Gogol’s “walking cloud” from some heaviness caused by the negative images that were “archived” in his spiritual heart.  There were pyramids, desert, hot sand and guilt observing slaves who were doomed to work under the scorching sun.

For a medium turned into an untrained healer this was not an easy job. For the starters, I had to get rid from the feeling of exorbitant gravity that aroese automatically only thinking about the pyramids!  How to let go such images? I was advised in my mind to transfer the images of “real pyramids” into two-dimensional pictures — sketched, or painted, or photographed pyramids on any kind of paper, whatever – newspaper, photopaper, electronic screen image, illustrative images in books or magazines — whatever comes first into your mind. Then play with the pyramid, throw it in the air, turn the other side, make it bigger, smaller, color it into different colors… Finally , then set an imaginary bonfire into your room, and threw your imaginary pictures with pyramids into fire, and burn it to ashes, then put out the flames of your bonfire. It is important, because your mental images will attract a lot of similar images from the universe. When they accumulate enough, they will find a way to materialize.

The spontaneous cleansing continued until I saw the clean blue water, from which rises … an emerald green gentle hue, a very light and pure steam of cardiac energy. Was the Gogol’s spirit heart purified? Who was the healing angel who did the job using me for establishing contact with earth energies?

Now I found myself in the same empty church. The long evening sermon was still in progress. I saw a young handsome deacon. Maybe once, a forbidden gay love blossomed under the roof of this church, or it was shown to me for no reason at all. The Russian Orthodox Church choir’s singing was sweeter than ever.

The Tsar’s Gates to the altar started to open. But in place of the altar, there was a mountain of sarcophagi … in some of them there were mummies, or rather, what was left of them after eons of undisturbed rest? I was looking for more scarabs, but was not able to detect them.  Do I need them to connect past and present times as  a symbol of eternal renewal of life through the power of motherhood?

pyramid 2

The Internet article http://www.landofpyramids.org/khepri.htm explain:

“The life of the scarab beetle revolved around the dung balls that were eaten by the beetles, they laid their eggs in the dung balls, and fed their young on the content. The dung ball of the scarab. When the eggs hatched, the scarab beetle would appear from nowhere to be a symbol of spontaneous creation, resurrection, and transformation.”

The image of motherhood, mother, too close to be compared with anything, and completely incomprehensible to understand, is too often inspiring fear, guilt and sometimes pure madness! Here it is, this thin and impenetrable veil around the heart, the veil of fear of the incomprehensibility of earthly motherhood. There is a desire to be accepted by the simple earthly life, and clear understanding that it is impossible without the plunge into the vulgarity of existence what leads to the eternal question “to be or not to be?” Or it would be safer to escape back to the astral life, as soon as possible. Or this problem can be resolved by developing aversion toward a woman, or women who once offered him eternal love demanding confirmations in form of forced vows and promises. Can these vows be broken, or can this way bought freedom be marred by guilt and faintheartedness forever?

How to accept being a reject for all these governors’ spouses, their daughters* wearing so provincial pink bows all over their dresses and coiffures? How to tolerate being a refuse in the eyes of all these invincible whores and prostitutes, whose spirit cannot be broken, as they do not have one, or it seems so! Is the suffering for broken vows to carry flames of the eternal love through eons justified? Maybe Scarab has been mistaken, and motherhood does not stand for spirituality at all, as it stands literally for making new bodies for renewal life? So they say! I think that new bodies are too often made for suffering called evolvement! I hope to be wrong!

Probably, only the idea of immaculate conception can solve this riddle … And was it our church that has established this image? Or it stemmed from the deep – from the prehistoric mythology – where the forever immaculate goddesses give birth to the heroes from ears, nostrils, moths, armpits… until the great image of Mother Mary’s immaculate conception, her spotless sinless life was born and glorified by the church, literature, music and paintings that confirmed repeatedly Mother Mary immaculate and incomprehensible, and holy conception of The Savior of humanity Jesus Christ. Because otherwise neither we nor the gods will evolve or rise, if holiness of birth would be not confirmed against all odds… Do not start me listing these odds that try to overrule this most universal principle of holiness of life. You knew them by heart, wars, revolutions, poverty, partners are not equal socially (Theodore Dreiser’s “An American Tragedy”), too young for birthing, sinful conception, if mother was not married (Goethe’s Faust, Shakespearian bustards’ characters). The image of the Holy Virgin seems to address all of them defending life itself… maybe doing our part in this defense line starts with a simple thing – acceptance mother who gave us life!

Virgin Mary Russian icon

Raise not to demand anything from your mother, but do not lift her image above the height established by the holy image of Mother Mary.

Recognize the effort to create a new body – put it above yourself, Shakespeare, Tolstoy, Saint John and the other Gospel writers. Let her remain blameless, whatever she was, beautiful or ugly, thin or plump, rich or poor, clean or a filthy woman, smart or stupid, educated or uneducated, refined or a rude, called a whore, or exalted as a goddess. The time comes when you will let her go! She gave body to you, and now is your turn to give her freedom back. Acknowledge that charging her with this and that you are clinging to her, expecting to take care of you forever! Do not blame her, do not judge her, the only thing you have to do, is letting her go free! If you do so, you may discover that stopping judgment made you free as well! You are freer than ever! Your heart will open to the boundless love, universal love that suffices all, and to which no living soul is deprived… Let go of the mother’s hand, do not cling to it, when you shout to her, leave me in peace … And she will smile at you, and disappear, simply slip out from her secret life where you have no place and never will, because her life, her destiny is not yours … She gave your body, now honor her freedom. And you will get rid of terrible loneliness, from a painful condition to be misunderstood. Life will shine to you with all its wonderful and terrible colors – your life! And you will find in it the Creator, the one to whom you owe your existence!

While cleaning the sarcophagi from the church, someone accidentally pushed the jar, it fell and crashed, and the scarab disappeared.

The darkness begins to dissipate. I see Gogol in a white nightgown, with a rope around his neck being unhappy with himself, his life, his unfulfilled obligations. I’m calling the most strange and terrible of all his creatures, Viy, and I order him to remove this rope from Gogol’s neck. But this is not Viy who appears.

Jesus Christ appears in that church. He embraces Gogol. The light of Jesus Christ the Savior removes the dust of terrible sarcophagi from Gogol, the pain of the burial of dead and alive slaves, the otherworldly beautiful mother’s authority over him, his strange love for the ugly images from which the heroes of his “Dead Souls” are woven, the impossibility to open his spiritual heart to unconditional love to embrace the world as it is given to him, as it unfolds his destiny.

Christ touches his heart: the protective shell around Gogol’s spiritual heart breaks and the light pours out of his heart. Jesus takes him to Christianity as a brother, as a son, as a grandson, as a human being, as a child of Almighty God.

My chakras close themselves. The church rests in quietude. The words dry out. The quiet, peaceful light streams through the church cupola down on us washing away fear and restlessness.

For a medium turned into an untrained healer this was not an easy job. For the starters, I had to get rid from the feeling of exorbitant gravity that aroese automatically only thinking about the pyramids!  How to let go such images? I was advised in my mind to transfer the images of “real pyramids” into two-dimensional pictures — sketched, or painted, or photographed pyramids on any kind of paper, whatever – newspaper, photopaper, electronic screen image, illustrative images in books or magazines — whatever comes first into your mind. Then play with the pyramid, throw it in the air, turn the other side, make it bigger, smaller, color it into different colors… Finally , then set an imaginary bonfire into your room, and threw your imaginary pictures with pyramids into fire, and burn it to ashes, then put out the flames of your bonfire. It is important, because your mental images will attract a lot of similar images from the universe. When they accumulate enough, they will find a way to materialize.

The spontaneous cleansing continued until I saw the clean blue water, from which rises … an emerald green gentle hue, a very light and pure steam of cardiac energy. Was the Gogol’s spirit heart purified? Who was the healing angel who did the job using me for establishing contact with earth energies?

Now I found myself in the same empty church. The long evening sermon was still in progress. I saw a young handsome deacon. Maybe once, a forbidden gay love blossomed under the roof of this church, or it was shown to me for no reason at all. The Russian Orthodox Church choir’s singing was sweeter than ever.

The Golden Gates to the altar started to open. But in place of the altar, there was a mountain of sarcophagi … in some of them there were mummies, or rather, what was left of them after eons of undisturbed rest? I was looking for more scarabs, but was not able to detect them.  Do I need them to connect past and present times as  a symbol of eternal renewal of life through the power of motherhood?

The Internet article http://www.landofpyramids.org/khepri.htm explain:

“The life of the scarab beetle revolved around the dung balls that were eaten by the beetles, they laid their eggs in the dung balls, and fed their young on the content. The dung ball of the scarab. When the eggs hatched, the scarab beetle would appear from nowhere to be a symbol of spontaneous creation, resurrection, and transformation.”

The image of motherhood, mother, too close to be compared with anything, and completely incomprehensible to understand, is too often inspiring fear, guilt and sometimes pure madness! Here it is, this thin and impenetrable veil around the heart, the veil of fear of the incomprehensibility of earthly motherhood. There is a desire to be accepted by the simple earthly life, and clear understanding that it is impossible without the plunge into the vulgarity of existence what leads to the eternal question “to be or not to be?” Or it would be safer to escape back to the astral life, as soon as possible. Or this problem can be resolved by developing aversion toward a woman, or women who once offered him eternal love demanding confirmations in form of forced vows and promises. Can these vows be broken, or can this way bought freedom be marred by guilt and faintheartedness forever?

How to accept being a reject for all these governors’ spouses, their daughters* wearing so provincial pink bows all over their dresses and coiffures? How to tolerate being a refuse in the eyes of all these invincible whores and prostitutes, whose spirit cannot be broken, as they do not have one, or it seems so! Is the suffering for broken vows to carry flames of the eternal love through eons justified? Maybe Scarab has been mistaken, and motherhood does not stand for spirituality at all, as it stands literally for making new bodies for renewal life? So they say! I think that new bodies are too often made for suffering called evolvement! I hope to be wrong!

Probably, only the idea of immaculate conception can solve this riddle … And was it our church that has established this image? Or it stemmed from the deep – from the prehistoric mythology – where the forever immaculate goddesses give birth to the heroes from ears, nostrils, moths, armpits… until the great image of Mother Mary’s immaculate conception, her spotless sinless life was born and glorified by the church, literature, music and paintings that confirmed repeatedly Mother Mary immaculate and incomprehensible, and holy conception of The Savior of humanity Jesus Christ. Because otherwise neither we nor the gods will evolve or rise, if holiness of birth would be not confirmed against all odds… Do not start me listing these odds that try to overrule this most universal principle of holiness of life. You knew them by heart, wars, revolutions, poverty, partners are not equal socially (Theodore Dreiser’s “An American Tragedy”), too young for birthing, sinful conception, if mother was not married (Goethe’s Faust, Shakespearian bustards’ characters). The image of the Holy Virgin seems to address all of them defending life itself… maybe doing our part in this defense line starts with a simple thing – acceptance mother who gave us life!

Raise not to demand anything from your mother, but do not lift her image above the height established by the holy image of Mother Mary.

Recognize the effort to create a new body – put it above yourself, Shakespeare, Tolstoy, Saint John and the other Gospel writers. Let her remain blameless, whatever she was, beautiful or ugly, thin or plump, rich or poor, clean or a filthy woman, smart or stupid, educated or uneducated, refined or a rude, called a whore, or exalted as a goddess. The time comes when you will let her go! She gave body to you, and now is your turn to give her freedom back. Acknowledge that charging her with this and that you are clinging to her, expecting to take care of you forever! Do not blame her, do not judge her, the only thing you have to do, is letting her go free! If you do so, you may discover that stopping judgment made you free as well! You are freer than ever! Your heart will open to the boundless love, universal love that suffices all, and to which no living soul is deprived… Let go of the mother’s hand, do not cling to it, when you shout to her, leave me in peace … And she will smile at you, and disappear, simply slip out from her secret life where you have no place and never will, because her life, her destiny is not yours … She gave your body, now honor her freedom. And you will get rid of terrible loneliness, from a painful condition to be misunderstood. Life will shine to you with all its wonderful and terrible colors – your life! And you will find in it the Creator, the one to whom you owe your existence!

While cleaning the sarcophagi from the church, someone accidentally pushed the jar, it fell and crashed, and the scarab disappeared.

The darkness begins to dissipate. I see Gogol in a white nightgown, with a rope around his neck being unhappy with himself, his life, his unfulfilled obligations. I’m calling the most strange and terrible of all his creatures, Viy, and I order him to remove this rope from Gogol’s neck. But this is not Viy who appears.

Andrei Rublev's SAVIOR

Jesus Christ appears in that church. He embraces Gogol. The light of Jesus Christ the Savior removes the dust of terrible sarcophagi from Gogol, the pain of the burial of dead and alive slaves, the otherworldly beautiful mother’s authority over him, his strange love for the ugly images from which the heroes of his “Dead Souls” are woven, the impossibility to open his spiritual heart to unconditional love to embrace the world as it is given to him, as it unfolds his destiny.

Christ touches his heart: the protective shell around Gogol’s spiritual heart breaks and the light pours out of his heart. Jesus takes him to Christianity as a brother, as a son, as a grandson, as a human being, as a child of Almighty God.

My chakras close themselves. The church rests in quietude. The words dry out. The quiet, peaceful light streams through the church cupola down on us washing away fear and restlessness.

 

 

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.