The Book of Knowledge. Playing Another Reality. C. Castaneda award

7. PEOPLE of LIGHT

Andrey was my earthly friend, who had known me for many years, or rather, like others, he thought he knew. After reading a fragment of my diary on the Internet, Andrey suggested having lunch at a cafe.

“Alice, let’s get acquainted! I saw only a part of you, the earthly part. And you are completely different.”

“Like everyone else, you see only what you want to,” I stated sadly.

“Doesn’t it bother you to communicate with ordinary people? Well, for example, with ones like me?”

“I look at a person and know immediately whether we can communicate or not. We have been friends for a long time, so don’t worry.”

“Can I ask you stupid earthly questions?”

“Of course, I’m even pleased when people ask questions.”

Andrey had to undergo surgery. I told him about the types of diseases, the causes for their occurrence, the ways to work with different types, which books to read and in what order. We smoothly moved into the field of Consciousness and Subconscious. I drew a lot of circles on a napkin, starting from the multifaceted Self to Anima Mundi (Soul of the World), talked about patterns and stereotypes, self-programming, the body-saving trance each of us involuntarily used to fall into several times a day, methods of Teachers, phobias and much, much more, up to comparative religion analysis in the context of the theory of reincarnation. At that point, Andrey awoke.

“When I was little, about four years old, I insistently asked my parents to take me to my mother’s grave in Germany, repeating that these parents, although good, were… in fact not quite mine. I said that my mother was transferring me in a baby carriage across the bridge in 1944 or 1945, when the bombing began and she died. Of course, they didn’t take me anywhere. Then I gave it up and forgot almost everything.”

“So you’re not so earthly. You’ve recalled a lot.”

“It’s you who are unearthly. I still remember you help us give birth to your namesake.”

Andrey had three daughters. When his wife was pregnant for the second time, I didn’t know about it. All that night I dreamed myself giving birth to a girl, so clearly that when I woke up, I was painfully wondering the meaning of my strange dream. I retold it to my colleague and immediately received a message from Andrey, saying, “The Earth has got one more Alice tonight!”

Andrey asked what anchor meant. I talked about the types of anchors and the possibility to anchor our Places of Power, which could help us in hard times.

“What are your Places of Power, Alice?”

“There are few of them. Nikolina Gora, for example, both grandmothers had cottages there. Funny, right? Being poor, I spent my summer time at two cottages among the royal castles. As a child, I used to merge with the Soul of the World through nature there, and it will forever remain my Place of Power. Then my French grandmother moved out and the second house was set on fire. But every summer I come to the river there. Mount Athos and Tibet also. I’d like to live in Lhasa or on the border with Mount Athos. I feel calm and comfortable there. Like at home.”

“Paris, no? Your French grandmother lived there.”

“My French grandmother, a light person, wanted me to visit Paris as soon as I could go abroad. She told me the street and the house she had lived. I ended up in Paris after her death, I walked the length and breadth of the city. Walking around the center, I came across her street and found her house. Several times I dreamed us walking together in Paris, but it’s still grandma’s city.”

“What other are yours?”

“I like Venice. I’ve been there many, many times. I don’t even remember how many. I often visited it with Brother. A strange city. Someday it will go under water,” I involuntarily shuddered, “like another city I see in my dream.”

“Another?”

“Not like others. There were no cars in it. There are no cars in Venice either, at least in its pedestrian and water area. And there was water too. Water everywhere. All around… My dream is also connected with water. I’ll tell you sometime later about my dream and that city. I think it used to be mine once. It was situated on the ocean shore. On an island or on some continent in the ocean. But it’s no longer there.”

“Doesn’t St. Petersburg remind you of Venice?”

“It reminds me of Venice and something I don’t want to remember at all. Therefore, let’s change the topic.”

“What kind of a person is that man of yours?”

“He is not a person,” I answered automatically for some reason.

“Who is he? Well, what do you see about him?”

“He is stronger and smarter than me. I look at Him from the bottom up, I am drawn to Him. He is the leader. I am the follower. I find it interesting and not boring with Him. We speak the same language and accept each other as we are.”

“Well,” Andrey sighed heavily, “you said too much in few words. Where is such one to be found? Who can speak the same language with you? In all my life, I have never met people who were as strong as you. And you need an even stronger one.”

“You don’t understand. You’re talking about people. He is like me, a different one.”

“Alice, who are you? Well, how did you end up here? Why did you come? Everything here is different.”

“I don’t know who I am. Nonna believes we both came down on our own, because we wanted to. I don’t know why, maybe, as she says, to feel this world, these objects,” I touched the table we were sitting at, “to try the food they eat here. To tell people here about what’s There. I haven’t recalled almost anything yet. I paint, and Nonna has goosebumps from my paintings, because she has already seen them There. I rejoice finding in the books of Teachers something I have known for a long time, but I don’t remember where from. Although the Voice I heard in my dreams in childhood taught me something. Many of my wishes come true instantly. But… I really want Love, no one has ever loved me for my existence here, just loved, just the way I am. However, I am not given such Love. I can’t explain why. It looks like a vicious circle. I don’t understand something. I can’t recall it.”

“You should feel yourself like someone, no?”

“A little silent girl from a stingy childhood, who every summer early in the morning went with her grandfather into the forests and wandered through them in complete silence. My grandfather picked up medicinal herbs, I picked up flowers, mushrooms and berries. He taught me to communicate with Nature: with trees, flowers, animals. By lunchtime we used to return to our cottage, where my friends were waiting for me: a hedgehog, a wild Siamese cat Panther and a White Rabbit. Probably every Alice should have her own White Rabbit. My grandfather built me a hut, a real house for a fairy. When the Sun was shining, I used to open the window. There were also two chairs and a small table inside. I used to seclude myself there and read books. The walls and roof were made of straw, laid out in several layers, with a waterproof film between, so I could stay in the house even in a downpour, and the door had a real lock. I remained that little girl.”

“I knew you as the general director of a large factory with a turnover of a billion.”

“You won’t believe it, once in anger I told a man who looked down on me and offended me very much that I would become, like him, a general director. And my words were taken there for an order. Well, let’s not talk about earthly things, rather let’s play. Trees are often played in art therapy. You should imagine yourself as a tree. What kind of tree are you? Where are you growing up: on the edge of a wood and alone, or inside a deep dense forest? What are your branches? Roots? Foliage? Is your tree sick or not? What is it afraid of? What’s the way to help it? Well, imagined?”

“I’m probably growing up in the forest. Everything is great there, and I’m not afraid of anyone.”

“I painted my tree upside down.”

“How is that?”

“Its roots are in the Sky, like snakes or lightning. The Moon lives in them. The tree is transparent. On a dark blue background. Its trunk is a guide from There to Here. And its branches hang over the sleeping city, creating something like a dome. But almost no one sees my tree.”

“Wow!”

“When I showed the picture to my son, he really liked it, but asked, ‘Mom, why did you do so with it?’ I said this tree was me. He sighed and said, ‘Now I understand.’ But I don’t know who I am. It’s just a game.”

“What other games do you know?”

“Visualization, for example. Imagine your dream as if already implemented. In detail, very colorful, with all the positive emotions that you experience. Then describe the picture in the Present Perfect tense, as if you have already got it. Return to the recording as often as possible, re-read it rejoicing.”

“So what? Will it come true?”

“Certainly.”

“Have you played this game?”

“Of course, I even came across a special notebook with the inscription ‘Book of Wishes’. So I used to write everything down there. For example, when the company I worked froze all projects due to the financial crisis, I described in the book a portrait of the owner of another company who would offer me a new job. Very detailed. Well, I mean the portrait not in terms of appearance. And he called me two weeks later.”

“And?!”

“I forgot to write down an important detail, to get a job in my city. He offered me a job too far away. So when you play, try not to forget anything.”

“Okay, what else can you do?”

“In general, nothing special. Everything that happens to me is as simple as two plus two. The youngest group of kindergarten.”

Andrey chuckled, but then he made a serious expression again and asked, “Do you always see the Future?”

“I never look into it on purpose. The Future is multivariate. Sometimes I see an option for the development of events, sometimes several at once. However, I always feel the point of no return, the moment when, out of the possible roads, only one is left, thus, there is no choice in the given period of time. At the age of four at our cottage on Sunday, I felt my father’s death. Dad was getting ready to go home to the city, and I began to sob heart-rending for no apparent reason, repeating, ‘He won’t come back’. Nothing foreshadowed his sudden death a few days later, but at that moment there was no other option. It’s always like that in life. There are many options at first, then their number decreases, the space narrows until all options collapse into the single possible. Usually, each step (choice) you take leads to another choice from several subsequent steps, as if a peacock tail is opening. Sometimes, when I need to know something, I pick up cards. Cards themselves are a kid’s game of fortune-telling. I receive answers and see what interests me not through cards, candles and similar attributes such as a pendulum ring, a bowl of water, coffee grounds. Knowledge comes by itself. But sometimes, I still take out the cards, light the candles, take the pendulum ring, make myself some coffee, because I want to feel like a little girl again and play.”

“Alice, have you ever practiced Black Magic?”

“This is what Black Magicians do.”

“So are you a White Magician?”

“I told you, I don’t know who I am. Anyhow, I can tell you about People of Light. It’s very difficult to accurately divide them into groups, because, as a rule, everyone who carries the Light within oneself can already do everything, but one needs to recall that. Some people need several lives for recalling, some need just one, and some even don’t need, since they come already awaken and able to do everything from birth. Some people are better at one thing, others at another. Someone succeeds in everything, but does only the necessary in each particular case.

My grandfather was a White Magician, emanating a warm Light. Possessing a strong but calm energy, he was mostly silent. I always felt his thoughts, and he felt mine. My grandfather reminded me of a mountain hermit. He loved nature and taught me to love it. Every summer, in addition to the cottage, we went for a week to visit his brother in the village, where I was taught to make hay and milk cows. I rode horses, and once spent a whole day tending a flock of sheep from all over the village. My grandfather never took any medicine, but he collected herbs, although I don’t remember him getting sick. I was born on his birthday, and we used to celebrate the holiday together. He told me the date of his death about a year before, while still healthy. A month before leaving, he dreamt his dead relatives calling him to Heavens. My grandfather died in my arms, with his arms around my neck when no one was around. He remained nearby for some time. I felt his presence. I wanted to leave the dark flat, where everyone had died and stuck after death, since the flat became a Portal to the World of the Dead, but I was afraid that my grandfather would condemn me. Then he came in a dream and let me leave.