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When Spirits Are Angry…

when a spirit got mad at me…

This is an unusual post, because it speaks about dark moments of spirit communication. Avoiding negativity, great masters prefer speak about positive side of spirit communication. Lately, I uploaded to Kindle new manuscript Weaved From Errors of My Ancestors. Spirits of my ancestors had mercy on me, and never crossed the boarders of our standards of politeness. But spirits whom I managed to attract into my life did. They were Russian spirits, I have no idea how I managed to annoy them. They left their… feces on floor, chairs, table and on my bed. I had to wash my apartment and bed. Should I talk about it publicly? After weighing the pros and cons, I decided to talk.

I will start from the evening, my nephew’s birthday party, where, at the end of it, sipping the last cup of coffee, I shared my story with relatives. Their reaction strengthened my confidence that it was necessary to write about the shadowy sides of communication with the world of spirits, as only the rosy tones of talk create wrong impression of what may wait us when it would our turn to say goodbye to friends on earth and move on to the next world.

It is believed that all Russians drink much. Not all! At our family gathering of young and old, alcoholic beverages were not consumed fervently; if we have sinned, then it was overeating of tasty food, which distinguishes Russian feasts in the American diaspora. When we were finally done with Ribeye tenderloin, fish of various varieties, colors, and types of cooking, and Happy Birthday was sang, and the kids had their moment putting out the candles on a luxurious cake and we had had our black coffee to withstand the pressure of the delicacies, and old people turned on their favorite Moscow show based on the ever-living memories of Moscow popular show “Blue Lights”, from which the kids washed off to their computers, and I, finally ventured to start my risky story about an unpleasant encounter with spirit world. I knew that none of my relatives, of course, did not believe in spirits. They simply tolerated my mediumship, as a kind of strangeness, and as I am old, that strangeness was forgiven to me.

As a medium, I hear the dead and can also talk with them as I would speak to you. My relatives consider this gift a nature’s mistake. But today, I had a rare trump card in my hands, the material proof of spirits’ existence, so I could not refrain from talking. If “hearing voices” is marred by suspicion of schizophrenia or hallucination, then reading the signs left by the spirits in my apartment did not require any supernatural qualities like clairvoyance or clairaudience -– as normal vision and average perception of smell would be sufficient to see these signs.

“Do you remember Lenochka from Leningrad, the clairvoyant who stayed with us when she came to Tallinn?” I asked my nephew. — “Of course, I remember!”– replied Vladimir.

I continued my story. She died homeless on the streets of Moscow. She told me that at that time, in the eighties, they opened her vision channel with helps of drugs. In the 80’s , it seemed OK. However, soon Lenochka became addicted to heroin, found herself homeless on the Moscow streets, and died early from an overdose. As it was predicted in the years ago during perestroika, her spirit found me in Los Angeles, settled in my aura, everything was nice and quiet, but once Lenochka  got mad at me.

Relatives pricked up, and I told them how once, when I came home, I felt a strange smell in the apartment – reminiscent of the smell and color of infantile excrement, or feces. Its color was yellowish or light brown. Size was most likely tenth or fifteenth of human feces. Beige stains covered the floor around the dining table, and “decorated” chairs.

In the bedroom, the peculiar smell was nauseous. My bed was not done, it was “open,” and the sheets, blankets, bedspreads on the edge of the bed and the floor of my small bedroom were littered with small piles of feces that the spirits had produced. Spirit of Lenochka could not do it alone. she had to have help from other girls who nested in a Russian celebrity’s cove in my aura. I talked to them asking where were their brains and feel of decency, when they did what they were told to do – to kaki in another person’s bed.  I asked where they were coming from, and why they were dead at so young age? Did they ODed?  Their answer was more shocking than the poop in my apartment. The young girls, told that their parents, in need for money, sold them to the local bordellos. They told that they were afraid of Lenochka, the celeb’s girlfriend, their “boss”, and they do not know anything, and they do what they were told to do.

Cleaning up my apartment took a lot of my time. The hardest thing was to wash the bed, because I had to wash everything from blankets to pillows, comforters and mattress bedding – thank God I used those.

But the matter did not end there. I had to wash all the bed linen from the “spiritual” poop five times, as Lenochka was still annoyed by me. And the pooping incident was repeated five times, before destiny had mercy on me and Lenochka and her company disappeared from my aura.

I am at age 85. It was physically difficult for me to make the bed right after I had just reset it. But Lenochka did not sober, and did not come to herself. It turns out that healing the drug addiction in the astral world is 100 times more difficult than on the earth …This would have to be written and spoken loudly, because one day we will all be there. And I heard about the tragic stories of the spirits’ hopeless struggles with this kind of dependencies.

I was almost done with my story, when an elder gentleman, let call him Venia interrupted my speech.  He peered at me with frightened, wide-open eyes, and asked: “Did you saw it all in your dream? It came to you in your dream?!”

— No, Venia, it was not a dream. It was difficult to wash it, it was unpleasant to wash the floor, I threw the floor cloths into dumpster. …

The ladies were silent. A gentleman poured himself a brandy and downed it without toasts or comments. 

And I understood it does not matter how strongly a person would deny God, the subtle world, and the existence of spirits, somewhere in the depths of the soul, he knows that this is true, the subtle world exists, and the day will come, when we will meet our Maker and have to stand there and being judged.

I think that forgetting our stay in the astral world between rebirths is given for a reason. Firstly, not seeing and not hearing spirits precludes direct communication and this inability to communicate offers the most powerful protection from the spirits, which is very important, especially protection from the evil, negative-minded spirits, capable of causing considerable evil to folks on earth.

And, wait a minute! In many cultures, the honoring spirits of the dead with food, left for them, is a common tradition… It is assumed that spirits eat! But if they eat, they have to poop! In other words, astral body is a material thing, and subtle world is as real and dreamy as our world… Sorry atheists, spirits are real!

But this is a different topic, which is worth talking about separately.

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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.

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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.

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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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Meditation in Memory of Grandmother Luba

  1. Restructuring

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

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

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

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

GrandmaLyuba

Lubov Petrovna Myasoedova

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

imagesblack heart

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…………………………… ..

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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