the Ringing cedars of Russia
Vladimir Megre English translation by John Woodsworth

Book 6. The Family Book (2002)

“I shall save my Mama”


“One time I did not see Mama for a long while,” Volodya began. “I wondered where she was, and decided Mama must have gone to the neighbouring glade, the one next to ours. It is similar to ours, but it is not as nice there. I walked over to the neighbouring glade. There I saw Mama. She was lying on the ground without moving, and was all white. And the grass around her was all white too.

At first I stood there wondering why this had happened — Mama’s face and the grass around should not be all white like that. Then I decided to touch Mama. She managed to open her eyes, only just, but she did not stir. Then I took her by the hand and began to drag her out of the white circle. She helped me with her other hand, and we got ourselves out of the white circle.

“When Mama got back to her normal self, she told me never to touch her if this should happen again. She said she herself could cope with it, but that I could not. After being in the white circle and dragging Mama out, my arm and leg grew numb and are taking a long time to recover. Mama gets better very quickly, but my arm and leg have still not fully recovered.

“When I saw Mama once again in the same circle... When I saw her lying there all white, I was not going to touch her

myself. I cried out, I called the strong she-bear to help, the one I slept on when I was little. I told the bear to drag Mama out of the circle. The bear stepped onto the white part of the grass, and fell down, and now she is no more. Only her children remain.

“The bear died at once, as soon as she stepped on the white grass. Everything dies on the white grass.

“Then once again I entered the white circle and began to drag Mama Anastasia out. The two of us pulled ourselves away from the dead grass. This time my arm and my leg did not grow as numb as before, only my whole body was trembling a little. Now it does not tremble any more. You see, Papa? My body does not tremble, it obeys me. And I shall soon be able to raise my arm when I want to. I can already lift it a little. Before I could not raise it at all.”

I listened to my son’s story in astonishment. I remembered how once I had seen Anastasia in a similar situation — I too had instinctively tried to pull her out of the white circle. I remembered the elderly philosopher Nikolai Fiodorovich talking about it.

But why does she put herself in that kind of danger? Even risking her own son? Can it be so important to her — burning within herself some sort of invisible energy directed at her?

A number of times on TV there have been reports on unusual circles with perfect geometrical shapes. They have appeared in various countries — usually in grain fields. Right in the middle of ordinary grain crops people have discovered circles with the stalks trampled to the ground. Not just trampled at random but with all the stalks pointing in the same direction and forming perfect geometric figures. Scientists are

studying these mysterious phenomena, but so far haven’t been able to come up with any explanation for them. In Anastasia’s case the grass has also been trampled down in a circle, but in contrast to what’s been shown on TV, the grass here has gone all white besides, as though it hadn’t got enough sunlight.

Anastasia says that this is human-generated negative energy Maybe it is, but why has it been focused so strongly on Anastasia? What kind of people are aiming it at her? Forgetting myself, I said aloud:

“Why does she struggle with it? Whom does the struggle benefit? Who is made better by it?”

“Everybody benefits a little,” I heard my son’s voice say “Mama says that if the energy of evil lessens — if she is able to reduce it by burning it up inside her so that it is not reflected back into space — there will be less of it. And those who produce it will mellow somewhat themselves.”

“Show me, how many of these white circles are there? And where are they?”

“Next to our glade there is a very small glade. The white circles are always appearing there. Afterward the grass becomes green again, but it has not yet greened over completely, and you can still see the circles. If you wish, come with me and I can show them to you, Papa.”

“Let’s go.”

I quickly rose to my feet and took my son’s hand. The child trotted quickly along on his little legs, though I noticed that he was limping slightly, and so I endeavoured to walk a little more slowly.

From time to time Volodya tried to look into my eyes. He chatted away the whole time, telling me about something as we walked. But all I could think about were the strange white circles and Anastasia’s inexplicable behaviour, and the reasoning behind her actions, about this whole unusual phenomenon.

To somehow keep the conversation going with my son I asked him:

“Volodya, why do you sometimes call her Mama, and sometimes Mama Anastasia?”

“I know a lot of Mamas who lived earlier on the Earth. Mama Anastasia told me about them. I can call them grandmothers, or great-grandmothers, but I can also call them mamas. My grandmothers gave birth to Mama. I can also call them mamas. When I hear them being talked about, I can feel them, and see them, and picture them, and sometimes I picture them all on my own. But so as not to get confused, I sometimes call my mama Mama Anastasia. All mamas are good, but for me Mama Anastasia is the closest and the best, and she is more beautiful than the flowers and the clouds. She is very interesting, and cheerful. I hope she is for ever. As soon as I chase my thought up to speed, I shall always be able to bring her back.”

I wasn’t listening carefully enough to grasp what he was trying to say By this time we had arrived at another little glade, and I saw four whitish circles on the grass. The circles were about five or six metres in diameter. They were barely noticeable, but one of them was whiter than the rest — it had probably been made quite recently

Now I realised why Anastasia had not come to meet me and why she wasn’t with me at the moment. It meant that she was lying helpless somewhere. And she didn’t want us to take pity on her, or become upset by her appearance.

I looked at the white circles, and my thoughts kept racing and intertwining. Of course, a lot of people can turn pale from troubles which befall them unexpectedly. Almost all people turn pale when anger is unexpectedly directed at them. But here? Can it be possible to feel it just like that, at such a great distance away? Can such a huge amount of hateful human energy be concentrated into a single stream?

So huge that not only Man, but all the growth around him turns pale?

Apparently so. There they are — the traces of the most wicked attempts... And once again I remembered her words, which I cited in the fourth book:

All anger on Earth, leave your deeds and make haste to me, join fray with me, try your utmost. ... I stand alone before you. Try to defeat me. To defeat me, all of you come meet me together. The fight will be fightless...

I thought these were just words. But everything she says comes true. The books, just like she said, and the bards’ songs, and the poems... She’s not just whistling in the wind. But why did she say: “The fight will be fightless”? The upshot is that she tries to simply burn up the anger inside of her. And she tries to do this alone! As far as I’m concerned, I think one should fight them out and out! Smash their rotten mugs in! But she’s all alone. No! Той shall not be alone, Anastasia! I can at least try... I can at least take a little of this filth upon myself. And I shall fight it. Oh, if I could only speak the way she does... Id tell them!... I probably got a little too carried away and blurted out:

“Hey you, malice-mongers, come’n try to get me, and I’ll burn at least a few of you!”

Little Volodya all at once let go of my hand and ran on ahead, then looked me intently in the eye with amazement. Then he stamped his little foot and, grasping hold of his injured arm with his healthy one, he raised both arms above his head and cried out, imitating my tone of voice:

“Hey, come’n try to get me too, you malice-mongers. You see, my arm is getting better. Mama Anastasia is not alone. I


Quoted from Book 3, Chapter 24: “Who are you, Anastasia?”.

am here too, and my thought will be racing faster and faster. Hurry and come on, you malice-mongers, leave what you are doing and hurry over to me. Look at how I am growing!”

And he got up on his tiptoes in an attempt to raise his arms even higher.

“So, my fine warriors, my dashing young braves! Who are you about to make war on today, my gallant knights?” came Anastasia’s quiet voice.

I turned around and caught sight of Anastasia, sitting under a cedar tree. She was evidently very tired — her head was even resting against the tree-trunk. And her shoulders and arms were sinking, and her hands were resting on the ground. Her face was pale, and her eyelids slightly lowered.

“Papa and I were standing up against malice, Mama!” Volodya responded on my behalf.

“But to fight against malice, you have to know where to find it, what forms it takes. It is essential to know everything about your enemy,” Anastasia said quietly, and with difficulty

“Mamochka, you rest here while Papa and I try to do that. If we do not do it properly, you can tell us later.”

“Papa has had a long journey, little one. He should have a rest first.”

“I’ve had a rest, Anastasia. In any case, I’m not all that tired... Hello there, Anastasia! How are you?”

For some reason I was overwhelmed by the sight of her helplessness and couldn’t move. I started talking disconnectedly, not knowing what to say or do next. Volodya came over to me, took me by the hand, and went on talking to his mother.

“I shall give Papa some refreshment after his journey and bathe with him in the pure water in the lake. And I shall collect some cleansing herbs. You, Mamochka, just rest here in the meantime. Do not waste your energies on conversation. I shall take care of everything myself. Then Papa and I shall come to you. I want you to recuperate your strength as quickly as possible...”

“I shall go bathing with you too,” Anastasia declared. “Wait, and I shall go with you.”

Supporting herself with her hands against the cedar trunk, Anastasia tried to get up. She managed to raise herself a little, but again sank back down to the ground, her hands slipping against the trunk. Her whisper was barely audible:

“Oh, how could I have failed so badly?! I am unable even to rise to greet my son and my love?!”

Once more, leaning against the cedar trunk, she began the challenging task of raising herself off the ground. She probably would not have made it this time either. But all at once something incredible happened. The huge cedar tree Anastasia was leaning against suddenly began to extend the needles of its lower branches out toward her. The needles began emitting a barely noticeable pale-bluish glow. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the glow enveloped Anastasia. Then I heard a crackling sound coming from above, not unlike the kind one hears when standing under high-voltage transmission lines.

I looked up and saw that the needles of all the surrounding cedar trees had also started glowing with the same faint bluish light. But that wasn’t all. They were all pointing in the direction of Anastasia’s tree. This tree’s upper branches were receiving the light emanating from the neighbouring cedars. And the glow of its lower needles kept increasing in intensity This phenomenon lasted approximately two minutes. Then there was a pale blue flash, and the light coming from the needles was extinguished. The needles looked to me as though they had become slightly withered.

Anastasia was scarcely visible in the bluish radiance still enveloping her. After it had dispersed, or gone into her — I could not tell — I saw...

There beneath the cedar tree, back to her normal self, fall of life, stood Anastasia, looking unusually beautiful, smiling at me and our son. Looking up, she quietly said “Thank you!” Then... Can you imagine a grown woman showing off this way?

Anastasia sprang into action, making a dash over to the largest of the white circles. Upon reaching its edge, she made another leap in the air, this time quite high. A triple somersault landed her in the very centre of the circle. Another leap, and this time she did a leg-split just like a ballerina. With a trill of her alluring laughter, she twirled in a dance over the white circles.

All around, the forest seemed to come to life and echo her joyful excitement. Squirrels leapt from branch to branch around the perimeter of the glade. Through the bushes some kind of creatures’ eyes gleamed like precious stones. Two great eagles flew down one after the other from the sky and circled over the glade, rising and descending by turns.

Anastasia continued laughing and dancing like an acrobat and a ballerina. And gradually the grass beneath her feet began to turn green. And even the whitest circle became barely noticeable. My heart kept feeling lighter and lighter from her dancing, her laughter and everything around. And then all at once...

All at once my little son ran out and did a double body roll across what remained of the white circle. Then, quickly regaining his feet, he leapt in the air and spun around, trying to imitate his mother’s dance. Even I couldn’t refrain myself, and joined in the fun, dancing or just jumping up and down for joy alongside my son.

“Let’s go! To the water! Who can catch up to me?” exclaimed Anastasia as she made a headlong dash for the lake, with Volodya and me in hot pursuit.

Slightly panting from all the jumping, I began to lag a little behind. But I saw how Anastasia leapt and somersaulted in the air before plunging into the lake. A few moments later Volodya took a flying leap from the shore and his bottom hit the water with a loud smack.

I began taking my clothes off on the run, tossing them on the ground along the way I plunged into the water still wearing my undershirt, trousers and boots. As I surfaced, I caught Anastasia’s shrill trill of laughter. Our son was laughing, too, with a surfeit of emotion, slapping the water with his hand.

I was the first to come out of the water. I began to peel off my wet clothes and wring them out. Upon reaching the shore Anastasia immediately put on her light dress right over her wet body. Then she helped me spread out my trousers over a bush so that they would dry more quickly in the breeze.

I fetched a track suit from my backpack and put it on. Anastasia stood beside me, and her dress was already dry. I wanted to give her a hug, but for some reason could not bring myself to go through with it.

She came up very close to me, and I could feel the warmth emanating from her. I felt as though I wanted to say something nice to her, but nothing came to mind. All I could muster was:

“Thank you, Anastasia!”

She smiled, put her hands on my shoulders, rested her head on my shoulder and responded:

‘And thank you, Vladimir.”

“Great!” Volodya’s cheerful voice rang out. “I shall be off now.”

‘And where are you off to?” Anastasia enquired.

“I shall go and see my elder grandfather. I shall give him permission to bury the body, and I shall help him. So I am off.”

Volodya quickly departed, with hardly a limp to be noticed.



     <<< Back                                                                                                 Next >>>

Pay attention!