Book 2. Ringing cedars of Russia (1997)
“When we buried Anastasia’s parents, she was still very young,” Anastasia’s grandfather began. “She wasn’t yet able to walk or talk. My father and I dug a hole in the ground, with the animals’ help. We placed branches at the bottom, put the bodies of Anastasia’s parents in the hole and covered them over with grass and earth. We stood there a while on the burial mound without saying a word. Little Anastasia sat a short distance away in the glade, watching a bug crawling along her arm. We thought it was just as well that she wasn’t yet able to be fully aware of the misfortune that had befallen her. Then we quietly walked away”
“What do you mean, you walked away? You just walked off and abandoned this poor, ignorant little girl to her own devices?”
“We didn’t abandon her. We left her in the same spot where her mother had given birth to her. You have a concept known as Shambala,1 or Motherland. The meaning of these words is becoming more and more abstract. Motherland — that is literally MOTHER-LAND.2 Mother! In anticipation of their 'Shambala — a Tibetan word indicating ‘the source of happiness’ in Ori-ental religions, and signifying the legendary ‘land of the gods’ — a place through which the Earth is connected with the Divine.
2Motherland — the closest English equivalent of the Russian word Rodina, derived from the name of God the Creator Rod in the ancient Slavic tradition (the word rod also signifies ‘origin’, ‘derivation’ or ‘birth’) and the root na signifying ‘mother’. In the original Russian text, the word is printed as ‘ROD I NA’.
child’s appearance in the world, parents ought to create a Space for him. An environment of kindness and love. And to give him a piece of the Motherland, which, like a mother’s womb, both preserves the body and caresses the soul. It imparts the wisdom of creation and assists in obtaining the truth.
‘And what can a woman give her child who is born amidst stone walls? What kind of world has she made ready for him? Or has she given any thought at all to the world in which her child is to live? In that case the world will do with him as it likes. It will strive to subject this little human being unto itself, making him a mere cog, or a slave. And the mother will simply become an observer, as she has not made ready for her child any Space of Love.
“You see, Vladimir, Nature — the Nature surrounding Anastasia’s mother, the creatures large and small — treated her as they would treat any Man who lived the way she did: as a friend, as a wise and good deity, one who had created around her a world of Love. Anastasia’s parents were happy and kind people, they very much loved one another, loved the Earth, and the Space around them responded to them with Love. Little Anastasia was born into this Space of Love and at once became its centre.
“Many creatures will not touch a newborn. A mother cat may nurse a puppy, or a mother dog a kitten. Many wild animals are capable of nursing and taking care of human offspring. But these animals have become wild to people in your world. To Anastasia’s mother and father they played quite another role. The creatures treated them entirely differently. Anastasia’s mother gave birth to her in the glade, and many creatures were witness to the birth. They saw how the woman they revered became a mother and bore another Man, another human being. When they witnessed the birth, their feelings toward their human friend, their love for her, intertwined with their own parenting instincts, giving birth to a new exalted manifestation of light.
“Everything, absolutely everything in that surrounding Space, from the tiniest bug and blade of grass to the seem-ingly ferocious beast, was ready, unhesitatingly, to give its life for the sake of that little being. And there was nothing in that surrounding Space of Motherland, created and bestowed by its mother, that could possibly have threatened that being. Everything would look after and cherish this human being.
“To Anastasia the little glade is literally a mother’s womb. The glade is her living Motherland. Powerful and kind. And inextricably tied by a natural, living thread to the whole Uni-verse. To the whole creation of the Grand Creator.
“The little glade is her living Motherland. It came from her mother and her father. And from the One and Only, the Original Father. We could never be a substitute for it. That is why, after burying her parents, we walked away.
“Three days later, while we were approaching the glade, we felt a tension in the air, we heard wolves howling. Then we saw...
“Little Anastasia was sitting quietly atop the burial mound. One of her cheeks was smeared with earth. We realised she had been sleeping on the mound. Tiny tears were streaming from her eyes and falling onto the ground. She was crying, noiselessly, with only an occasional sob. And she kept stroking and stroking the burial mound with her little hands.
“She wasn’t able to talk, but she did say her first words on this mound. We heard them. At first she simply uttered syllables: Ma-ma, then Pa-pa. She repeated this several times. Then she added a syllable to each: Ma-moch-ka, Pa-poch-ka, Ma-moch-ka, Pa-poch-ka? I am Ana-sta-SI-ya. I now have you no more. Eh? Only my grand-pas? Eh?
“My father was the first to realise it: even as we were burying her parents, little Anastasia, sitting there in the glade and watching the bug, was fully aware of the whole depth of the misfortune that had befallen her. She used her will-power to refrain from showing her feelings. With her mother’s milk she had been imbued with the wisdom and strength of her pristine origins. Nursing mothers have that capacity, Vladimir. The capacity to pass along to their baby, together with mother’s milk, the conscious awareness and wisdom of the ages, right back to their pristine origins.
‘Anastasia’s mother knew how to do this, and used this method to fall advantage. To the fullest possible advantage.
“Since Anastasia didn’t want us to see her crying, we didn’t go out into the glade, and didn’t approach the mound, but we couldn’t tear ourselves from the spot. So we just stood there, observing what was going on.
“Supporting herself on the burial mound, little Anastasia attempted to stand on her little feet. She didn’t do it on the first try, but still, she managed to stand up. She stood there swaying back and forth, stretching her arms out a little to each side, and finally took her first timid step away from her parents’ grave, then a second step. Her little feet got mixed up in the grass and her little body lost its balance and started to fall. But the fall — well, that was something quite unusual.
‘At the moment she fell, a barely noticeable bluish glow came flooding over the glade, and changed the Earth’s laws of gravity just on that particular spot. It touched us too with some kind of mellow languor. Anastasia’s body didn’t fall, but gradually and smoothly descended to the ground. Once she got up on her feet again, the bluish light disappeared, and the normal gravitation field was restored.
“With careful and hesitating footsteps, Anastasia went over to a little branch lying in the glade and was able to pick it
up. We realised she had started cleaning up the glade, as her mother had done many times. This wee little girl then carried the dry branch to the edge of the glade. But once again she lost her balance, began to fall and dropped the branch.
“During her fall, once more the bluish glow sparked into life, changing the Earth’s gravitational field, and the branch flew over to the little pile of dry branches lying at the edge of the glade.
‘Anastasia got up, looked around for the branch but couldn’t find it. Then, throwing up her little hands, with shaky steps she slowly made her way over to another branch. No sooner had she started bending over to pick it up than the branch itself began rising from the ground, as though a breeze had blown it to the edge of the glade. But there wasn’t enough of a wind around to do this. Some invisible presence was carrying out little Anastasia’s desires.
“But she wanted to do everything herself, as her Mama had done. And, no doubt in protest against this help from her invisible ally, she thrust her little hand into the air and waved it gently above her head.
“We looked up and saw it. Over the meadow we saw hanging a small spherical mass, pulsating and glowing with a pale- blue light. We could see a whole multitude of fiery discharges inside its transparent covering, giving the effect of multi-coloured lightning. Indeed, it was very similar to large ball-lightning. But it was intelligent!
“We couldn’t tell what it was made of and what kind of intelligence we were dealing with.
“We could feel some kind of unknown and unseen power in it. But there was no sense of fear of this power. On the contrary, it seemed to be radiating a pleasant, languid grace. We didn’t feel like moving. We just felt like being.”
“But what made you think it possessed untold power?” I interrupted.
“My Papa noticed that. Even though it was a bright sunny day the leaves on the trees and the petals on the flowers turned in its direction. In its bluish glow there was more power than in the Sun’s rays. And it could change the Earth’s gravitational field at the moment Anastasia fell — just in the right place and at just the right time. The change was so pre-cise that her body descended smoothly, but yet was not torn away from the Earth.
‘Anastasia spent a long time collecting branches. Some-times she would crawl, at other times walk all over the meadow with slow steps, until she had cleared them all away And the fiery sphere, still pulsating, hovered over the wee little one. But it no longer helped her pick up the branches. The powerful fiery sphere seemed to understand the gesture of her little hand and obeyed it.
“Expanding and dissolving in Space, contracting and pro-ducing internal discharges (like flashbulbs) of some kind of energy from goodness-knows-where, the sphere would mo-mentarily disappear and then reappear, as though it were somehow excited, and this excitement caused it to sweep through space at incredible speed.
“The time came when Anastasia normally lay down to sleep. We never compel our children to sleep, rocking them back and forth until they become dizzy. At this time Anasta-sia’s mother would simply lie down herself in the usual spot and pretend to doze off, to show her child by example. Little Anastasia would crawl over to her, snuggle up against her warm body and peacefully fall asleep.
‘And this time Anastasia went to the spot where she was used to sleeping during the day with her mother. She stood and looked at the place where she had always slept with her Mama at this time, but now there was no Mama around.
“It was not clear just what she was thinking at that mo-ment, only once again a tiny tear glistened in a sunbeam on
Anastasia’s face. And right away the bluish glow came pulsating across the glade, flashing at irregular intervals.
‘Anastasia raised her little head, saw the pulsating mass of light, sat down on the grass and began staring at it continuously. It remained still under her gaze. For some time she just sat there staring like that. Then she held out both her little arms in its direction, as she was wont to do when summoning one of the creatures to her side. At that point the fiery sphere sparked up in a multitude of powerful lightning bolts, reaching out beyond its blue covering, and... made a dash for her little arms like a fiery comet. Looking as though it had the ability to sweep away everything in its path, it took only a split second to reach Anastasia’s face, start rotating and with one of its lightning flashes wipe away a tiny tear glistening on her cheek. And at this point it extinguished all the discharges and became a pale blue, faintly glowing sphere in the arms of the little one sitting on the grass.
“For a time Anastasia sat there holding it, examining it and stroking it with her hands. Then she got up, lifted up the blue sphere, and with careful steps carried it over and put it down on the place she used to sleep with her mother. And again she caressed it gently
“The sphere took up a position on the ground and pretended to doze off, just as Anastasia’s mother had done. And the little girl lay down beside it. She fell asleep. She slept there on the grass, all curled up into a ball. The sphere took flight, disappearing into the heavenly heights, then spread itself low over the glade, as though it were a blanket. Later, once more contracting into a small, pulsating ball, it took up a position next to Anastasia, who was still sleeping on the grass, and began stroking her hair. It was a strange and unusual caressing. With the most delicate luminescent and flickering threads of lightning, it took each individual strand of hair, lifted it and caressed it.
“On subsequent visits to Anastasia in her glade, we saw it again on several occasions. We realised that to Anastasia it was something quite natural, just like the Sun, or the Moon, or the trees and animals around her. And she had conversa-tions with it, just as she did with everything else around her. But it was evident she made a distinction between it and the other things in her environment. The distinction wasn’t too noticeable in terms of outward expression, but there was a definite impression that she treated it with just a little more respect than other things, and sometimes she would even play up to it. She never played up to anyone else, but for some reason she allowed herself to behave this way with the sphere. It reacted to her mood and even played along.”
“The morning Anastasia turned four,” Grandfather contin-ued, “we were standing at the edge of the glade waiting for her to wake up. We wanted to quietly watch and see how she would delight in the new spring day that was unfolding.
“The sphere appeared just a moment before she woke up. It glistened faintly with its bluish glow, either spreading itself in a shower of light or dissolving over the whole Space of the glade. And we beheld a natural living picture made by no human hand — it was charming and magnificent.
“The whole glade was transformed — the surrounding trees, the grass, even the bugs. The needles of the cedars began shining in a host of soft hues. Behind the squirrels springing from branch to branch could be seen rainbow- trails sparkling and dissolving. The grass was lit up in a soft green glow. An even more pronounced multicoloured glow emanated from the multitude of bugs scurrying through the grass, forming an unusually vivid and beautiful carpet spreading its way across the glade, constantly morphing itself into new intricate and marvellous patterns. Upon awakening, Anastasia opened her eyes to behold an extraordinary living panorama, full of enchantment. She jumped up and gazed all ’round.
“She smiled, as she always did in the morning, and every-thing around her responded to her smile with an even brighter glow and accelerated movement. Then Anastasia carefully knelt down and began meticulously examining the grass and the shining, multicoloured bugs scurrying about. When she lifted up her head, the slightly worried expression on her face betrayed a measure of concentration. She looked up and, even though nothing was visible up there, stretched her little arms to the sky All at once the still air stirred, and in her hands appeared the bluish sphere. She held it up to her face, then put it down on the grass and tenderly stroked it. And we could hear their conversation. Anastasia was the only one who actually spoke, but we had the distinct impression that the sphere was understanding her and even silently responding. Anastasia spoke with it tenderly, with just a touch of sadness:
“‘You are good. You are very good. You wanted to delight me with your beauty. Thank you. But change it back, please change it back to the way it was before. And do not ever change it again.’
“The blue sphere emitted another pulse, then lifted slightly off the ground, and the lightning discharges flashed from within. But the glowing scene did not fade. Anastasia fixed her gaze upon it and spoke to it once again:
“‘Every little beetle, bug and ant has its Mama. Everyone has a Mama. All Mamas love their children just the way they were born. It does not matter how many legs they have or what colour they are. You have changed everything. How will the Mamas recognise their children now? Please, make everything as it was before!’
“The sphere gave a faint flash, and everything in the glade was restored to the way it looked before. Once again it de-scended to Anastasia’s feet. She stroked it and offered a
‘Thank you!’. She stared silently at the sphere for a while, and when she spoke to it again, her words really impressed us. She told it:
“‘Do not come to see me again. I like being with you. You are always trying to do only what is good for everyone, always trying to help. But do not come visit me. I know you have a very large glade of your own. But you think very fast, so fast that I cannot understand all at once. Only later shall I understand a bit. You move faster than everything else. Much faster than the birds and the breeze. You do everything very fast and very well, and I know that is how you must do it to get everything done, to do good in your own very large glade. But when you are with me, it means you are not there. So, when you are with me, there is no one to do good in the other glade. Go away. You need to take care of the large glade.’
“The blue sphere contracted into a little lump, and took off way up high. It began sweeping through Space, sparkling more brightly than usual, and once more plunged down like a fiery comet to Anastasia, who was still sitting in the same spot. It stayed still by her head for a while, then a multitude of tiny flickering rays reached out to Anastasia’s long hair and stroked each strand individually, right down to the tip.
‘“What are you taking your time for?’ Anastasia said qui-etly. ‘You should get going back to those who are waiting for you. I’ll make everything all right here myself. And I will be happy to know that everything is all right in the large glade too. I shall be able to feel you. And I want you to think of me too, but just occasionally’
“The blue sphere began ascending, but not with its usual carefree bounce. It rose from Anastasia in fitful bursts, and finally disappeared into space. But it left something invisible all around. And each time when something happened that affected Anastasia negatively, the surrounding space would grow still, as though paralysed. That is why you lost consciousness
when you tried to touch her without her consent. She pacifies this phenomenon by waving her hands in the air whenever she can. Just as before, she wants to do everything all by herself.
“We asked our little Anastasia:
‘“What was that glowing thing that was hovering over the glade, what do you call it?’
“She thought for a bit, and answered briefly:
‘“I would call it Good, Granpakins.”’
The oldster fell silent. But I still wanted to hear about how little Anastasia lived in the forest, and I asked him:
“What did she do after that, how did she live?”
“The same way,” the old fellow replied. “She grew up just like anyone else. We suggested she help the dachniks. By the time she was six she was already able to see people at a distance, to discern their feelings and help them. She got involved with the dachniks. Now she believes that the phe-nomenon of the dachniks offers an easy transition to making sense of what constitutes our earthly existence. Here she’s been continually shining that ray of hers for twenty years now. She’s given warmth to plants on the small plots of land. She’s treated people’s illnesses. She’s tried to explain to people, without imposing on them, how one should handle plants, and she’s had terrific results. Then she started observing other aspects of human life. And destiny brought her together with you. And now she’s come out with the idea of carrying people through the dark forces’window of timed
‘And what do you think, she’ll be successful?” I asked. “Vladimir, Anastasia knows the power of thought inherent in Man as a Creator. Otherwise she would never have let her-self make such a statement. From now on she will not deviate from this path — she’ll stick to it. She’s a stubborn lass. It comes from her father.”
“So, she’s taking concrete steps,” I observed. “She’s trying to make her thought-forms into reality, and here we are just sitting and rationalising about the spiritual. Like kids wiping their noses... You know, there’s quite a few people that still ask me: ‘Does Anastasia really exist, or did I just dream everything up myself?”’
“That’s not a question people can actually ask. People touched by the book will feel her right away. She is in the book. Questions like that can only be asked by illusory peo-ple, not real people.”