Book 6. The Family Book (2002)
An invitation to the future
“What did he mean when he said he would give his grandfather permission to bury the body?” I asked in some bewilderment.
“You will see for yourself, and understand,” replied Anastasia.
A little while later I saw Anastasia’s great-grandfather, alive, but no signs of any funeral. That was how he remained in my memory — alive and unfathomable.
Anastasia was the first to sense her grandfathers’ approach. We were walking together across the glade at the time. All of a sudden Anastasia stopped, and gestured to me to stop as well. As she turned in the direction of the tallest and mightiest cedars, I followed her gaze, but saw no one. I wanted to ask her what was going on, but could not. She took my hand and gave it a squeeze in a silent plea to refrain from uttering a sound.
It wasn’t long before I caught sight of the figure of Anastasia’s great-grandfather making his way among the majestic cedars. The majestic elder was wearing a long light-grey shirt which went down below his knees.1 As he entered the glade at an unhurried but confident pace which betrayed no sign of ageing, I noticed our son — his great-great-grandson, Volodya — trotting along beside him, holding his hand tight. The old man’s own son, Anastasia’s grandfather, followed at a little distance behind.
It seemed that everybody, including me, felt some kind of solemnity surrounding the approaching encounter, and only the child accompanying the elder was behaving his natural and unaffected self. Volodya kept chatting away the whole time to his great-great-grandfather. Occasionally he would run slightly ahead and turn to look him in the eye, or suddenly stop, let go the old man’s hand and bend down to the grass to inspect something that had captured his attention, whereupon the old fellow would stop too. Then Volodya would take his hand once more and begin telling him animatedly about what he had seen, all the while leading him over to where we were standing.
As they drew near, I couldn’t help noticing that the usually severe- and majestic-looking elder was sporting a faint smile. His bright face was radiant with grace and, at the same time, a degree of solemnity Even as he stopped but a few steps from us, his gaze was still aimed somewhere far off in the distance. We were all speechless — only Volodya’s voice was to be heard, speaking at a fairly rapid pace:
“Here, Grandpakins, here right before you are my Papa and Mama. They are good people. Even though your eyes cannot see them, Grandpakins, you can still feel everything. But I can see them with my eyes. You can look at what is good through my eyes, my dear Grandpakins, and that will be good for you too.”
Then, turning to us, Volodya all at once announced even more joyfully:
“Mama and Papa, a little while ago, when we were all swim-ming together, I realised something, and I have allowed the body of Grandfather Moisey2 to die. We have already found a spot for me to bury the body of my Grandfather Moisey”
Volodya pressed his whole head and body against Grandfather Moisey’s leg. The majestic grey-haired elder carefully and tenderly stroked his great-great-grandson’s head. The love, tenderness, understanding and joy inherent in their mutual relationship was only too palpable. It made the conversation about burial all the more bewildering to me. In line with the way I was brought up, I felt like stopping my son and telling him his great-great-grandfather looked terrific and still had many years ahead of him. That is what we always say, even to an elderly person who is very ill, and I wanted to say that to him — in fact the words were already on the tip of my tongue — when Anastasia suddenly gave my hand another squeeze, and I stopped myself from speaking my mind.
Grandfather Moisey then turned to Anastasia and said: “Granddaughter Anastasia, the Space you are creating, how is it being limited by your thought?”
“My thought and my dream have merged into one, without encountering any limitations,” replied Anastasia.
Whereupon Grandfather Moisey asked her another question:
“Human souls are accepting the world you are creating... Tell me, what energy is driving your creation?”
“The same energy that grows a tree and unfolds the buds to turn them into the flowers we see.”
“What kind of forces might interfere with your dream?” “When I dream, I do not visualise any interference. All the challenges I can see on my path ahead can be overcome.” “You are free in everything, Granddaughter Anastasia. Order my soul to embody itself as you see fit.”
“I cannot permit myself to order anybody’s soul. The soul is free — the work of the Creator. But I shall dream, my dear Grandfather, that your soul find a worthy embodiment in the most splendid garden you have ever seen.”
A pause ensued. Grandfather Moisey did not ask any new questions, whereupon Volodya once more began talking apace:
“Neither shall I order you, Grandpakins. Only I shall urge you most strongly to embody yourself soon once more upon the Earth. You will appear once more, young as before and will be my best friend. Or you will become someone else for me... I am not ordering... I am simply talking... My dear Grandpakins Moisey, let your soul be always within me and beside me.”
Upon hearing these words the majestic elder turned to Volodya, and slowly got down on one knee in front of him, then on both knees, bent down his grey head, raised the child’s little hand to his lips and kissed it. Volodya put his arms around the elder’s neck and started whispering something quickly in his ear.
Then Grandfather Moisey got up from his knees with only one small child helping this very old man. Even now, when remembering this scene for the umpteenth time, I still can’t figure out how it happened. They simply held hands, and the great-great-grandfather rose to his feet without leaning on anything.
Upon standing, he took a step in our direction and made a bow. Then, without uttering another word, he turned and held out his hand to Volodya. Off they walked, hand in hand, chatting away to each other. The younger grandfather followed a few paces behind, without interrupting their conversation.
I now realised that Anastasia’s great-grandfather was going away for good. He was going away to die.
I could not take my eyes off the receding figures of the child and Grandfather Moisey. Earlier Anastasia had told me about her attitude toward modern cemetery rituals and funerals, and I even wrote about that in my previous books.
She and, of course, all the other members of her family who had either lived or were currently living in the taiga, believe that there should be no cemeteries. Cemeteries are like refuse dumps, places where people toss out the lifeless bodies of the deceased as useless garbage. People are afraid of cemeteries, they believe, because things happen there that go against the laws of nature. They believe that the relatives of the deceased, through their very thoughts about their departed loved ones as gone forever, prevent them from reappearing in a new earthly embodiment.
In going over in my mind the various burials I have witnessed, I’m inclined to agree. There are simply too many falsehoods involved. People practically kill themselves over a deceased family member, but after just a few years... well, you go to a cemetery, and you rarely find a grave of someone who died ten or twenty years ago well tended. In fact at some untended gravesites workers are already digging new pits.
In the meantime the people who are buried are forgotten by everyone. Nothing remains of their brief sojourn on the Earth, and nobody even needs their memory any more. If that is how they end up, why were they born in the first place? Why did they live? Anastasia says the bodies of the deceased should be buried in their own domain with no special headstone to mark the burial place. The grass and flowers, trees and bushes that come up will be the continuation of the life of their bodies. That way the soul upon leaving the body is afforded greater opportunity for splendid rein-carnations.
In the kin’s domain the thoughts of the deceased before they die will have been creating a Space of Love. Their descendants will stay on to live in this Space, in contact with 3 everything growing therein, which means keeping in contact with the thoughts of their parents as they take loving care of what their parents have created. And the Space itself will take care of those living therein, consequently maintaining one’s earthly life forever.
But what about people who live in the cities? How are they to get along without cemeteries? Well, perhaps their lifestyle will give them pause to reflect — at least in their old age — on how they shouldn’t live a life devoid of thought for the future, for eternity
And I am in agreement with Anastasia’s philosophy. But it is one thing to agree in thought, quite another to witness the departure of a great-great-grandfather in real life. Though in this case he — or, rather, his soul — will not die. It will evidently stay somewhere in the vicinity or very quickly embody itself in a new life — most certainly a good one. After all, neither Anastasia nor our little son, nor her grandfather, nor even Great-Grandfather himself, is projecting any kind of tragedy, even in their thinking. They have an entirely different approach to death from ours. For them it is not a tragedy, but simply a transition to a new and splendid existence.
Stop! Even Great-Grandfather himself showed no sign of grief. Quite the opposite. So that’s it! That’s the ticket! “When you go to sleep overwhelmed by heavy, dark and unpleasant thoughts, you will most probably have a nightmare. If you go to sleep with bright thoughts, you will have pleasant dreams,” says Anastasia. And again: “...death is not a tragedy, it is only a dream — shorter or longer, it makes no difference. Man should enter into any dream contemplating what is beautiful — then his soul will not suffer. Through his thoughts Man can create a Paradise — or anything else — for his soul.”
And Great-Grandfather knew this. He did not suffer. But what was it that brought him such obvious joy during those final hours? Something happened. He wouldn’t have been smiling like that just for no reason at all. But what did happen? I turned to look at Anastasia and saw...
There she was standing a little distance away from me, her arms outstretched to the Sun, and whispering, it seemed, some kind of prayer. The Sun’s rays would hide themselves behind a cloud, then shine brightly, reflected in a single tear rolling down Anastasia’s cheek. But her face showed no sign of sadness, only peace. After whispering, she listened, as though somebody were answering her. I stood and waited, not daring to approach her or even utter a word. It was only when she turned, caught sight of me and headed over my way that I asked:
“Were you praying for the peace of your great-grandfather’s soul, Anastasia?”
“My great-grandfather’s soul will rest in great peace, and its earthly life still lies ahead when the soul itself desires it. I was actually asking about our son, asking the Creator to furnish him with greater strength.
“Our son, Vladimir, has been doing works undertaken by few people today He has now accepted within himself all of Great-Grandfather’s strength, which Great-Grandfather imparted to him with his soul. Because he is still in the process of maturing, he will find it difficult to contain the multitude of diverse energies within him as a single whole.”
“But why,” I asked, “after all this happened, did I not notice any particular change in our son?”
“Our son, Vladimir, uttered some special words before Great-Grandfather knelt in front of him. He uttered words whose meaning is comprehensible only to those who are able to fathom the process of the Creator’s work. Possibly the child did not fully understand this, yet he told Great-Grandfather sincerely and confidently that he was capable — through his own self — of helping him and his soul stay on the Earth. I was not able to say the same for myself. I do not feel that kind of strength within me.”
“I noticed that after hearing these words Great-Grandfather began simply radiating with joy,” I observed.
“Yes, few indeed are those who have heard words like that in their grand old age. You see, Great-Grandfather received from the child’s own lips an invitation to the future — an incarnation of the Future.”
“It looks as though they had a strong love for one another.”
“Our son, Vladimir, had begged Great-Grandfather to keep on living when he could not go on living any longer. And Great-Grandfather did live — he could not refuse the child’s request.”
“But how is such a thing possible?”
“It is very simple. But not automatically so. After all, doctors, too, are able to bring back people from a state of unconsciousness or oblivion. And not just doctors, but someone close to this person may call or stir them out of a faint or a state of unconsciousness, and they will live. Great-Grandfather’s will and his love allowed him to prolong his life at his great- great-grandson’s request. Great-Grandfather is the descendant of priests who did tremendous works through the centuries. Once he even stopped a huge explosion through his will, through his gaze, but it made him blind.”
“What d’you mean, through his gaze? Is it possible for one’s gaze to stop an explosion?”
“It is possible if the gaze is consciously directed with confidence in Man’s power and unshakable will. Great-Grandfather knew where the disaster was about to happen and went there. He was just a little late with his foresight and an initial explosion did take place. But then he stood facing the source of life-threatening danger and through his gaze was able to tame the manifestations of the dark forces already whirling through space. Just one explosion happened, and that not at full strength, and two others could have taken place. But if Great-Grandfather had flinched even for a moment...
“You see, Vladimir, he stopped the explosion. Only he went blind.”
“But why are you so concerned about our son’s abilities which he has inherited from his great-great-grandfather?”
“I thought that the abilities he had inherited from you and me were sufficient. I taught him to conceal his additional abilities so that he would not appear strange to people. I wanted our son to go out and live in the world and not stand apart from others in his appearance. After all, there is a lot one can do without standing out from others.
“But something too extraordinary has happened. Who our son is now, and what his purpose in life is — that is something we must definitely try to decipher. And so I was asking the Creator to give him the strength to remain, at least for just a little longer, a simple child.”
“You’re concerned about this now, Anastasia. But I think in many respects it is you and your method of upbringing that are at fault here. You talk a lot about the soul, about Man’s purpose in life. You have taught the child to read that extraordinary book about co-creation. So he’s gone and formulated his own peculiar world-view.
“Why should a child at that age have to know about Soul, about God? You see, he calls me Papa, and at the same time he says he has a father. I realise he’s calling God his Father. Even I have a hard time understanding that, but you’ve gone and given him an information overload. It’s the way you’ve brought him up that’s to blame, Anastasia.”
“Remember, Vladimir, how I replied to Great-Grandfather that I could not order anyone’s soul. And our son heard what I said. And yet some power higher than I has allowed him to act otherwise. But you should not worry. I shall be able to understand what has happened, even though our son may possibly look at me now in a different light. It will not be long before his strength exceeds both of ours combined.”
“Well, okay Every generation should be stronger and smarter than the one before.”
“Yes, you are right, of course, Vladimir, but there is an element of sadness when someone is stronger and more insightful than his own generation.”
“Eh? I don’t understand what kind of sadness you’re talking about, Anastasia.”
She didn’t reply, only hung her head, and her facial expression became sad. She is rarely sorrowful or sad. But this time... I understood... I understood the great tragedy of this Siberian recluse — Anastasia. She is all alone. Incredibly alone. Her world-view, her knowledge, her abilities are so vastly different from those of other people. And the more pronounced they are, the more tragic is her loneliness. She lives in another dimension of conscious awareness. This other dimension may be marvellous, but she is all alone there. Of course she could come down to other people’s level, she could be like everyone else. But she has not done this. Why? Because to do that she would have to betray herself and her principles — perhaps even betray God. And then Anastasia decided to do something amazing. She began calling others into this splendid dimension. And there have been those capable of understanding her. And I, it seems, am just beginning to understand her, to really feel... Six years have passed and I am only beginning, just barely, to understand. And she has been patiently waiting all this time, calmly explaining everything without getting angry. Perseverant, unshakable in her hope.
Christ Jesus was probably the same way Of course he had his disciples and people were constantly coming to hear him. But who could have been a friend to him? A friend who could finish his sentences and help him in a pinch. But not a single kindred spirit was at hand. Not one.
God! How do most people perceive Him? As an unreachable, amorphous, feelingless being! All they can say to Him is “Gimme this!” or “Judge that!” But if God is our Father, if He has created the world around us, then, quite naturally, the fundamental desire of our Parent can only be for a meaningful existence for His children, along with their understanding of the essence of creation and the opportunity to co-create together with them. But how can we talk about a meaningful existence when we constantly trample down everything God has created around us — trample on His thoughts — and yet all the while engage in various forms of worship to someone, only not Him?
But He doesn’t need to be worshipped. He is waiting for our co-operation. But we... Well, we can’t even comprehend such a simple truth as: if you’re the son of God and can understand your Father, take just one hectare of land and create a Paradise on it, bringing joy to your Father. But no! All mankind is striving for something like crazy, but what? Who is it that is constantly making idiots of us all? And what does He, our Father, think when He sees all this earthly debauchery? He watches and waits for His earthly sons and daughters to wake up and come to their senses. He watches and causes the Sun to illuminate the whole Earth, so His children can breathe.
How are we to comprehend the essence of being? How are we to make sense of what is really happening to us? Is it mass psychosis? Or the deliberate influence of some kind of forces? What forces? When will we be free from them? Who are they?