Book 3. The Space of Love (1998)
Who are you, Anastasia?
Before asking Anastasia this question, I took a good look at her. Here sitting before me was a woman — a young and beautiful woman, hardly different in her outward appearance from many others in our modern civilisation. Perhaps it is just that her body conveys a lightness — barely perceptible, even outwardly — in the way she stands, the way she moves her hands, and especially when she rises to her feet and walks, all of which she does with an extraordinary lightness.
The burdened, ponderous gait of a ‘senior citizen’ is noticeably different from the movements of a young, energetic, vivacious person. But that gives you some idea of the difference between the way Anastasia moves and walks and the motions of even the trimmest of our young athletes. She gives the appearance of being light as a feather on her feet, yet physically very strong. She easily carried my heavy backpack fifteen kilometres, at the same time helping me make my way along.
During our brief stops she didn’t lie down, or even sit down in exhaustion, but kept moving — either running off to collect herbs, or massaging my wounded leg. And she did all this with a sense oflightness, cheerfulness and a smile. Where did this vivaciousness come from all the while?
Just try observing some time the flood of people walking along the street — take a look at their faces. I did. Almost all of them look absorbed in thought, downcast or just plain glum. Especially when a person is walking all by himself along a road. Even when they aren’t carrying any heavy load, and they’re neatly dressed, evidently not starving, since they’re smoking expensive cigarettes, and yet their faces are marked with tension, weighty thoughts — and there are many like that, the majority in fact.
Anastasia, on the other hand, never allows her smile to leave her face. She constantly delights in the Sun and the grass, the rain and the clouds, like a carefree child constantly beaming with gladness, and even when you talk about serious matters with her, she betrays no sadness.
Just like now... But no, her appearance at the moment was not typical at all. Anastasia was sitting there, her head slightly bowed and her eyelids lowered, like someone upset or even a mite depressed, as though she could sense what I was about to ask. But I still asked her:
“If you look at all the letters, Anastasia, you will get an idea of all the different things people call you — even an alien from another planet. In one of her books the well-known psychologist and writer Oksana Lavrova has called you a biologist from an extraterrestrial civilisation. Ordinary readers call you a goddess, but strangely enough, those who call you that also write as if they were talking to a close friend. You are probably the first person to be addressed both as a goddess and a close friend (without genuflection) at the same time.
“Most scholars and religious leaders call you an essence, an elevated essence, or a self-sufficient substance.
“Look, here I’ve been talking with you all this time, I’ve written a book about our conversations, and I still can’t figure
out just who you are. Can you yourself give an explanation to me of who you are — clearly and precisely?”
“Vladimir, whom do you see in me yourself?” Anastasia asked, without raising her eyes. ‘And why is it so important to you what other people say?”
“The thing is, that I myself don’t even know what I’m looking at. To be honest with you...”
“Say what you have to say honestly and sincerely, Vladimir, and I shall try to comprehend it all.”
“Well, okay, I’ll say it out-and-out... The first time I saw you, Anastasia, you gave the appearance of being a simple woman. Then that first time I walked with you into the forest, we sat down to rest and you took off your dress and your kerchief and I saw how beautiful and attractive you were — well, you know, the kind of girl we say is sexy or has sex appeal. I really wanted to... well, do it with you — you know what I mean. D’you remember?”
“But now, maybe on account of all these complexities compiled thereon, I don’t really want it anymore, even when I see you with nothing on.”
“You’ve come to fear me, Vladimir, is that it?”
“Not fear you, no, not really But things have got, well, com-plicated. You’ve borne a son, see, but you’ve become somehow more and more distant, even when you’re right here beside me, like you’re sitting right now, and still you don’t seem very close — you seem far away to me. At least that’s my impression. My head keeps telling me you’re some kind of‘essence’.”
“I maybe an essence, but you are an essence, too.”
“No. I’m no essence, nobody ever calls me that in their letters. Even if some readers curse me, still, nobody doubts that I’m Man, a human being.”
“Excuse me, Vladimir — you know, I am a woman. Which means I too am Man.”
“You say you’re Man too, but you don’t seem to want to do the most basic thing to prove it. You don’t want to live the way people live. The way the whole world lives. Everybody wants to have an apartment, furniture, a car, but oh no, not you. There’s money coming in now from the book, and soon there’ll be lots more. Let’s buy ourselves an apartment, furniture, a car, let’s go round together and visit the sacred places. Well take our son along, too. Our society is now restoring the temples and monasteries, and other countries have lots of sacred sites and historical monuments we can visit. But you have nothing here — no sacred sites. What’s holding you back? What have you got to lose?”
“Vladimir — this is my Space here. The Creator’s creation in its pristine state. My foremothers, my dear mother, along with my forefathers, tenderly cared for every blade of grass with their love, and every majestic cedar remembers their gaze and the warmth of their hands. And in the spring it comes about that the seeds of all the plants bring forth sprouts. And each grain that touches the ground in the spring contains all the information of the Universe. As well as information about how they will see the Light of Grace.
‘And the seed grows apace until it becomes a sprout, and the Sun attempts to help it out, and the sprout reaches out to Man for more than just the Sun — it reaches out to Man for the Light of Grace.
“Thus the Creator created all. He designed everything so that Man could continue creating along with Him. My parents saved and preserved the creations thereof, and there is a Space of Love! My parents gave it to me.
“What in the world could be more sacred than the creations of the Creator, of my parents, of living Love filling all Space?
“This is how every Man that is a parent should act. They should give the child born to them the Space of Love!
Marvellous as a mother’s womb, only in the Space of Love is there room for their future offspring — indeed the future of their own — to be truly happy
“It is this holy place and the Space of Love that is my gift to our son.”
“You are giving this of yourself, Anastasia, but where is my Space of Love? What can I give our son?”
“The links of the continuum have been violated in many people’s lives. But the strand is not broken. The strand that ties humanity as a whole and every creature in particular to the Creator needs only to be comprehended and felt by each, and then to each may be extended both light and might. Vladimir, expand the Space of Love. Right there in the world where you now live, create a Space of Love. For the sake of our son, for all the children of the Earth, make the whole Earth into a Space of Love.”
“I don’t understand. What do you want from me? To change the whole Earth?
“That is exactly what I want!”
‘And for all people to love each other, for there to be no more wars or crime and for the air to be pure and sublime? And the water too?”
“Let it be thus throughout the Earth!”
‘And only then will it be construed that I am a father true, that I have given something to my son?”
“Only then will you be a father true, worthy of your son’s respect.”
“Does that mean that otherwise he will not respect me?” “What can he respect you for, Vladimir? For which of your achievements do you wish to receive respect from your son?” “For the same reason that children all over the world respect their fathers. Their fathers gave them life.”
“What kind of life? When a child comes into the world, where, in what place does he find any gladness? And why, in
the space given to him by his forefathers, is there so much sadness? And the child born again must live in this same sadness, and yet the one who gave him life does not surmise that he himself is to blame. And so we live and crave respect, and are surprised when we do not get it.
“Believe me, Vladimir, very few children respect their fathers as they should. This is why, as soon as they grow a bit, they leave their parents by and by, and refuse to remember them, thereby accusing them, albeit intuitively, and repeating in their turn the parents’ mistakes. If you wish to earn the respect of your son, Vladimir, you will have to make the world a happier place for him.”
‘Aha, so... Now it’s clear!” I jumped up. My head was ever so filled with despair and anger. My thoughts became jumbled together.
I realised it now, as I hope it has become plain to all: Anastasia is a fanatical recluse. I surmised this right from our very first encounter. Maybe a recluse with extraordinary, unexplainable abilities and perhaps she has an excuse — perhaps these same abilities — her Ray, for example — do not allow an accounting of her own — I mean, do not allow her to take account of her possibilities. You will remember she said she would transport all people across the dark forces’ window of time. Well, she herself realised that she was not in a position to do that, and now she is resorting to luring me and my readers into her fruitless vision. I knew for sure that along with being abnormal and fanatic she is incredibly deceptive and makes use of her guile to do whatever she can for her dream!
She bore a child, and she’s managed to get a book written by now. And then — something really wild! — she says if I’m to earn the respect of my son, I shall have to make the whole world into a Space of Love to give not only to my son but to every child!... Methodically and by intricate art she is drawing everyone into her dream and keeps complicating my part before my very eyes. First write a book, says this girl, then make a Space of Love throughout the world, and then what? We have known of more than a few fanatics who have tried to change the world, and now they are where? Vanished like smoke into thin air. And here I find another one sitting in front of me with head bowed, with the same aim in mind: to change the world.
I knew that it was useless to argue with eccentrics and fanatics, that I needed to calm down and walk away, but I was unable to prevent myself. And to this girl sitting there on the ground with downcast eyes, as before, I still said:
“I know now, I realise precisely who you are. You are a mixture of essence and Man. And you know how to deceive. You deceive so nicely, you took me right in. Oh wow! what an intricate web of guile you weave! To get me first to write a book and then entice me by bearing a child.
“You tried with your non-human logic to hide your fanaticism, only a hole appeared in your plans. A loophole appeared, you understand. While I was writing the book, I had the chance to talk with many people. I learnt a lot indeed, and was given all sorts of religious books to read. And there’s no way I can tell what you know of them, but this one thing I can say:
“Several thousand years ago the world saw wise men of greatness and piety arise, whose spiritual currents in all their variety continue to flow until this day. There are more than two thousand different religious confessions on the Earth, you see — I learnt this from a recent talk session on TV. They one and all proclaim the good, they aim to give advice to everyone on how they should live, and every leader tries to make it known that the path to Truth lies through him alone. We have our fill of sacred sites all around, but still, has anything really profound, far-reaching or sincere resulted from their gabfests over the many, many years? Or from the multitude of their teachings?
“There’s just one thing I’ve understood: millennia pass, but war has never ceased for good. The war of dogma against dogma. The strongest wins a fight and thinks that he is right, but not for long. Time passes, a new war ensues, and a new song, a new dogma gains ascension with its views. But no one thanks the losers in this contention, nobody pays them any attention. I’m saying all this openly and frankly... Do you know who you are? Do you know what you are calling me and all the readers to?”
Anastasia arose, looked me calmly in the eye and said:
“You need not go on, Vladimir. Believe me, I know what you still might say to me anon. Let me declare it myself. I can say it more briefly and without swearing.”
“Yourself? Well, why not give it a try? And all right, then, without swearing. What was I going to say?”
“You were going to say, Vladimir, that there are a multitude of prophets on the Earth, and a multitude of teachers too. There are so many different dogmas it is hard for you to decipher them all. But when I speak, you will be able to understand everything — if you really want to, that is.
“Water will prove to be the criterion, the measure of all things. Every day that passes, water seethes with more and more contamination. And the air becomes more difficult to breathe.
“The parade of worldly rulers, no matter what grand temples they might have built, will be remembered only by the filth they have bequeathed to their descendants. The legacy they give makes life more dangerous every day, but we continue to live. You have surmised, Vladimir, that I am one of those who tries to teach everyone how they should live. One of those who creates just another religious denomination, only too ready to put himself at its head.
“But I can assure you now that the sense of self-importance which has ended up burning all that were initially enlightened, is not something I shall ever resort to myself. I shah be able to win and I am winning! I shall stop the factories spewing their stinking dirt, the miners will comprehend that they cannot rend apart the precious veins of the Earth.
“I beg of you, people, change your professions just as soon as you can — all those professions which bring hurt to the Earth, to the great works of the Creator.
“I beg of you, Man, to grasp this fact just as quick as you can, that no one on Earth can be truly happy as long as he keeps causing harm to the Earth.
“Yet a little while and human misery will start feeling the pain of agony, it will burn in its own flame.
“People’s conscious awareness will transport them across the dark forces’ window of time. Look around, Vladimir, and you will find that what I sought in my dream is already coming to pass, my dream has been caught up by the Universe itself, it is resounding in the hearts of all people, and is already transporting mankind over the abyss, and only the doubters will run amiss and fall into its snare. But mankind, believe me, Vladimir, mankind shall be spared.
“People will see what children can be — people will learn life in paradise.
“The events now taking place in Russia are not coincidental. Assume a closer vantage-point, Vladimir, to observe these events. I am nullifying the portent of doom hanging over the Earth.”
“But who are you? Who do you consider yourself to be?”
“Oh, do you still not comprehend me in the least? Dogma has instilled in you a distrust of your own soul. Do you still perceive me to be a sorceress, do you still believe my dreams and aspirations to be fruitless? You are inflamed by doubts — you believe in yourself, and yet you do not believe, it turns
out. For that I am to blame, unskilled as I am — my speech is too bewildering and confused. But I say to each one of you who reads this: forgive me — I cannot find the words to make myself clear to all without exception. Forgive me, Vladimir, for my deception — not everyone is grasping what you wrote, and some are simply trying to get your goat.
“But how am I to expiate my guilt? I have got it! If you wish, I shall play the fanatic for you to the hilt. Or I can simply show you what I am. You can take it any way you like, but please do believe my one desire: that I sincerely aspire only to good for all.
“I beg you, please do not frown. Smile and see how great is everything around. Do not torment yourself, let nothing anywhere be kept hid. And if it is easier to accept me as a sorceress naive, feel free to consider me as whatever you perceive.” “Now that’s better,” I observed. “Things are clearing up again. Does all this mean you’ve just been playing a game?” ‘And have you begun to perceive my play with your Soul?” “Well, all play ought to involve some fun!”
“Of course you’re right in that. I should keep everything light and simple, and fun for everyone.”
The Sun’s rays shone through the dark clouds on the lake and the shore. They lighted upon the blades of grass and the raindrop-laden leaves, while the raindrops formed intertwining circles on the surface of the lake. Anastasia, who before this had been speaking quietly yet emotionally, her eyes constantly fixed on me, suddenly looked about her, clapped her hands and broke out laughing.
Her laughter was loud, alluring and infectious as it rang through the cedar branches and across the shore and surface of the lake. She began spinning about with childlike excitement, delighting in the rare drops of rain with a girlish, boisterous laughter. But every three minutes or so she interrupted her fiery dance.
I watched as the Sun’s rays played in the glistening raindrops, or perhaps it was in the tears streaming down her face ablaze with colour. Everything around fell still, and Anastasia’s sonorous, confident, yet despairing words filled all space as they were carried off into the air. And the air over the taiga took on a greater tinge of blue, and the birds fell silent, too. As though they were listening to all her words as off into space these flew
“Woe unto you, prophets! For centuries you have been proph-esying about the frailty and futility of earthly existence, terrifying people with doom and hell’s flaming judgement. Tame your ardour — you are the ones that have made Man’s comprehension of Heaven so much harder!
“Woe unto you, Nostradamus! The dates of the fearful cat-aclysms upon the Earth were not so much your divinations as the creations of your thought. You made millions of people persuade themselves of these by what you taught and thereby aim their thoughts at the implementation of the same. Your thought still hovers up there, hiding in the blue, still frightening people with your prophecies of despair, but now they will no longer come true. Let your thought join in fray with mine. Of course you knew all this ahead of time, and that is why you are so eager to flee away
“Woe unto you who call yourselves teachers of human souls! You try to suggest to Man that he is abject and weak in spirit, knows nothing of himself and that all Truths are accessible only to a few elect like yourselves — and only through worshipping you can he detect God’s voice and the Truth of the creation of the Universe. Cool the passions of your heart, and may everyone now know: the Creator has given all to each one right from the start, and we need only refrain from hiding the Creator’s great creations under the murky domain of dogma and conventions, the murk of inventions for the sake of one’s own selfish pride. Stand not between the people and
God. The Father wishes to speak with each one equally. The Father abides no intermediaries.
“The Truth has been there right from the start in each one’s soul. Not tomorrow, but here today each Man may be happy and whole! The Creator has filled each moment of every year with gladness. And in His thought there is no room for His beloved child to feel torment from sadness.”
Just listen to her play! So inspiring! Yet so despairing! Of course she’s playing, but why above her in the sky over the taiga is there shining bright such an extraordinary light? As though the heavens could record every inspiring and despairing word that from this forest recluse upon the Earth could be heard:
“Woe unto you, prognosticators of the ages, foretelling but gloom for Man, thereby creating both gloom and hell! Oh, how earnestly you have been feeding your own egregor.; frightening people in the name of the Father and more. Well, here I am. You can all come to me. With my Ray I shall take but a moment to burn up the murk of age-old dogma. All anger on Earth, leave your deeds and make haste to me, join fray with me, try your utmost.
“But you, militants of all faiths, it is you who have created all the wars. Dream about wars no longer. Lure not people into war with your obscure deceptions for the sake of your own mercantile connections. I stand alone before you. Try to defeat me. To defeat me, all of you come meet me together. The fight will be fightless, as clergy of all religious confessions will greet me with their merged assistance.
“Foremothers of mine, Fathers of mine, imbue them with the True Light. Give them everything you have been so carefully saving for me. Give freely to all who are able to accept the Light.
“Let evil join fray with itself and with my flesh, not with my soul. I give the whole of my soul to people. In people I shall prevail through my soul. Prepare yourself, all wickedness and evil-mindedness, to leave the Earth behind and fall upon me!
“I am Man! I am a Man ofpris-tine or-i-gins. Anastasia I am. And I am stronger than you.”
“Stop!” I shouted, thinking that it was some kind of game, continuing all the while to play itself out. “Why are you taking it upon yourself to call up all these vile things?”
“Vladimir, be not afraid of them, they are cowards every bit. Besides, you yourself said that I was deceptive. Deceptive? Yes, deceptive indeed. I have outwitted them. They were mocking you, treating me as an invention of your imagination, while all along I was involved in creation. And the strength which my foremothers and my fathers showed, which they had brought with them from their pristine origins, I have now bestowed on many people.”
Anastasia stamped her foot and chortled out loud, and then spun round again, just like a ballerina. And I got carried away with her play and began giving her my moral support.
“So go to, Anastasia, burn them! Let all the evils of the Earth throw themselves at you and you will burn them! Only be careful, don’t get burnt yourself!”
“To dispose of me, Vladimir, they would have to let go of many of their earthly gains, free many human souls from their chains.
“But even if I should perish, my dream shall come to pass all the same. The strings of the harp of the Universe have struck up a happy strain, and human souls are hearing them. They understand them!
“Sound forth, О Universe! Sound forth with your happy strain! For them, for all the people of the Earth. May everyone know the melody of the Soul!
“Look, Vladimir, human Souls are sending their rays to the weary Earth.”
With these words Anastasia ran over to the plastic bag with the readers’ letters, dropped to her knees and placed her hands on the package. And with childlike joy and enthusiasm she exclaimed:
“When an elderly man, a soldier who had been in the war, read your book and tears suddenly appeared... When a young mother’s whole attitude to her newborn child changed overnight... When a young girl, about twelve years old, saw everything clearly for the first time and started to love life... And look, when a young man stated he would no longer take drugs and went home to his mother...
“When people send you letters from prison, you can see and feel how their souls sing, and they take on a whole new strength...
“These are all signs I found that people’s souls are under-standing the combinations of the sounds of the Universe, now they are resounding in their thoughts, and they are accepting them... Not all of them yet, but there will indeed be many! And the heavens know thereof and wait to meet each one with love.
“Look, just look how people are expressing their understanding in their poetry.”
She was so sincere in her delight and kept talking about the letters, that I got carried away with the scene before me and thought: Well now, let her have her joy, let her play her little scheme and believe that her dream will come to pass. I shall tell everybody about her playing. She thinks up everything herself and delights in every thought.
I was trying to calm myself down, when suddenly in my consciousness everything again got jumbled together. I began
once more to dismiss everything as her own caprice and fancy, yet there was one thing, can you imagine, that simply blew my mind away. Can you imagine, she talked about things that really were in those letters! And even in the letters I hadn’t brought with me to show her! But how could she know? After all, she hadn’t read them.
I watched and listened in absolute astonishment as she read poems that were still in the envelopes, as she took a sudden delight in something or stood preoccupied in silence, as though she had read all the letters together in a single moment.
She kept on talking about the letters with complete accuracy Complete accuracy... Stop! So even before this, then, she must have been describing everything else with complete accuracy, too. It hadn’t been a game at all... Was she dreaming? Of course she was dreaming! But she had also dreamt before — about the book, and people’s poetry, and now all this lay right there before her eyes. Wow! Her dreams really did come true! They actually came true!
The book was lying right there in front of her. A material object.
No, this can’t be real!
Dear reader, are not you too holding in your hands right now a part of this despairing recluse’s dream, materialised in a book?
And what next?
Can it be that everything else may actually come to pass?
When I got over my initial sensation of amazement, I asked her:
‘Anastasia, how did you know what people had written in their letters? It was as though you had read them all. And even those I hadn’t brought with me!”
Anastasia turned around, all beaming with joy:
“It’s all very simple, on the whole, how one can hear what is being said by the soul.”
And all of a sudden Anastasia fell silent. And in this silence she walked calmly over to me and said thoughtfully:
“It is not that hard to answer all the questions, but the answer still will not take away the problem, as one question but begets another. Right now mankind keeps biting into Adam’s apple, not realising that this will never fully satisfy him. Besides, anyone may hear the answer for himself within.” ‘And how may each one recognise when the true answer comes, as opposed to one that is not so true?”
“Only one’s sense of self-importance can lead people about, lead them away from the Truth. Vladimir, try to hear me out.”
We sat down on the grass beside the package containing the letters. I saw how her eyes were spariding, and there was a rosy blush in her cheeks, as she said:
“I shall tell you about co-creation, Vladimir, and then everyone will be able to provide an answer to his own questions. Please listen carefully, Vladimir, and write about the Creator’s great co-creation. Listen and try to take it in with your soul...”
And thus began Anastasia’s inspired account of co-creation. But it is a long one. And no room to include it here right away But this one thing I’ll say: after I heard it I really did want to pray
With my sincere respects to you, dear readers, and until we meet in the next book,
To be continued...