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

Book 2. Ringing cedars of Russia (1997)

Healing for hell


“One day I saw with my Ray a lonely old woman working on her garden plot,” Anastasia began. “She was spritely, slim and always cheerful. She caught my interest right away She had a very small plot, and a lot of different things growing in it, and they grew very well, because she tended them with love.

“Then I learnt that the old woman would put everything she grew into a basket and take it into town and sell it. She tried not to eat the early fruits of her labours, but sell them when they would still fetch a high price. She needed the money to help her son. She had given birth to him late in life, and soon afterward she was left without a husband. Her relatives never communicated with her. Her son liked to draw as a child, and she had dreams that he would become an artist.

“Several times he tried to get in some place where he could pursue his studies. Finally he made it. And once or twice a year he would come to visit his elderly mother. These visits were the highlight of her life, and each time she would save up her money and prepare a whole supply of food for him. As the time for his visit approached, she would pack vegetables into glass jars, put their lids on tight and give the whole supply to him when he arrived.

“She loved him very much, and kept dreaming about her son becoming a top-notch artist. She lived on that dream. The woman was kind and cheerful.

“Then for a while I did not watch her. The next time I saw her she was very ill. She had a hard time bending over to work

on her plantings — each time she bent over, a sharp pain ran right through her body.

“But she proved to be very resourceful. She made her beds long and narrow. Each time she went out to her plot she would take with her the seat from an old stool (minus the legs) and use it to sit on while she did her weeding, and that way she was able to move around the whole plot without having to bend over. She dragged the basket along on a string. And she was looking forward to a good harvest.

“It really looked as though the harvest that year would be quite plentiful, since the plants felt her state of mind and reacted accordingly The woman sensed that she would soon pass on, and to make things easier for her son, before she died she bought a coffin and a wreath and made all the funeral preparations.

“But she still wanted to bring in one last harvest, and pre-pare the winter’s food supply for her son before she died. I did not pay much attention then to why she was still sick even after such close contact with the plants. I thought perhaps it was because she herself ate almost nothing from her plot. She sold what she grew and then used the money to buy things she needed on the cheap.

“I decided to help her, and one night when she lay down to sleep I began warming her with my Ray, removing the pains from her body. I could feel some kind of resistance to the Ray, but I still kept on trying. I did this for about ten minutes until I succeeded in healing her flesh.

“Then, when Grandfather came, I told him about the old woman. And I asked him why the Ray had met some resist-ance. He thought about it, and then told me I had done the wrong thing. It made me very distraught.

“I began asking Grandfather to explain why At first he did not say a word. Then he said, ‘You healed the body.”’

I was amazed. “What harm could you have possibly brought to the woman’s soul?” I asked.

Anastasia sighed and went on:

“The woman’s health got better and she did not die. Her son came to see her earlier than usual. This time he came only for two days and told his mother he had quit his studies and did not want to be an artist any more. He was now involved in some other work that brought in more money. He had got married. Now he would have a lot of money And he no longer wanted her to prepare ‘those insipid food jars’ for him, since transporting them would now cost more.

‘“'You can eat better yourself, now, Mother,’ he said.

“He left without taking anything. That morning the wom-an sat on her porch, looked at her plot, and her eyes were filled with such emptiness and depression — they looked as though she did not want to live. You see, her body was healthy, but it was as if there were no life left in it. I saw, or rather felt, the terrible emptiness and hopelessness in her heart.

“If I had not cured her body, the woman would have died at the right time, she would have died peacefully with her beautiful dream and hope intact. Now here she was, still alive, but in great despair, and this was many times more frightening than physical death.

“Two weeks later she passed on.”

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