I met you several times already, first time, at the age of three. You were glancing at me through my window. I was lying in my cot and I told then myself: ‘yes, what I see is real, and yes, I see the devil.
I met you then several times after (you can read about some of our encounters Here, Here and Here) and every time I was amazed by your presence: spectacular, magnificent, oh, so grounded, when you appeared to me as a beautiful black panther three weeks ago. You are really beautiful, my angel on earth.
You see, I am also an angel and I was Jesus Christ in my previous life, after I was an Egyptian princess, and before I was Princess Anastasia and Anne Frank.
You were a pharaoh then, do you remember?
I do, I try to remember.
You appeared to me in the forest in my previous life. You promised so many interesting and exciting things (Matthew, 4). I should have listened but I did not, thinking I could do it all on my own, but of course, I could not. Evil was walking on earth (and it is not you, but humans who refuse to believe in miracles, in anything that is good). My Chinese oracle tells me it’s because of decadence and indifference to neglect, while I think it is more than that. Those who killed Good maybe can’t be forgiven. But it’s up to God to decide!
It’s like a story of Rumplestiltskin, agree? God created another son, but there is always a first one and it’s you. A farther has always to forgive his children. I am not moving to the next stage without you being forgiven.
I forgive you.
But now I also need help from you. Do you remember how you appeared to me in the cell? In the middle of Amsterdam city? You materialised in the form of a Native American and asked me to heal you, and I did, I gave you my life force.
And I know you are looking for your saviour, for the woman who healed you.
And here is the interesting bit. I had to go and find you myself in my dreams, but your stupid bodyguards didn’t let me inside. Read about my failed devils ball attendance HERE).
It starts always with visions, I have powerful very powerful visions. I land straightaway in the shamanic domain, where I see and hear things, denied to all those who prefer ‘normality’.
What is normality?
It is believing, but believing with suspicion, asking oneself constant questions full of doubts: is Jesus really real? Will he come back again to this earth?
Or it isn’t believing in anything, but just in the universe, and the universe, despite the misery we see around nowadays, is in fact a beautiful thing. But not believing in at least some magic, sounds boring to me.
I respect all belief systems, but I plunge further than others in terms of seeing that it is all for real. Angels appear to me, beautiful fairies, I am sometimes blessed with a dialogue with GOD. I saw and met the devil, an interesting character, that fascinates me rather than scares.
The element of psychosis happens when it is judged as going slightly too far in terms of what the society is ready to accept as ‘normal’.
I have the recurring theme (sorry for the repetition) in the past three years. I feel Jesus, I sometimes declare I am the one. And let’s imagine, just for a second, that it would be a beautiful upcoming if Jesus was me. A softer version of the guy, more refined, with modern style. A female.
Anyway if you arrive to the psychiatric hospital and declare that you are Jesus, prepare yourself for an unpleasant ride. It starts with the psychiatrist who asks you:
“Do you really think you are Jesus?”
“Yes, doctor, and on top of it, I feel fine!”
“Do you have special powers?’’
‘Yes, I do, power of compassion is one of the examples.”
‘’Any more concrete powers? Like doing something practically?’’
I close my eyes to come up with the precise example and here it comes:
“Yes, once the car was running right towards the cat, and the cat was going to be killed, but I shouted with all my might: NO! And the cat jumped from the wheel approaching it, had a fright but survived.”
The doctor, obviously, doesn’t know what to do with me. It is written in their psychiatric treatises that I suffer from a spectacular ‘delusion of grandeur’. I went for the best title of them all, although, quite modestly I add to the stupefied face of the ‘doctor’:
‘’I was also Princess Anastassia and Anne Frank in my previous life, and also an Egyptian queen. That’s right when they started to meddle with my tomb, that I started to ‘loose it’. Who is that idiot who messes with what we, the Egyptians, created in our beautiful kingdom? Who allowed to study pyramids?’
At least here, in the Netherlands, they don’t write notes while they talk to you. Back in the UK, you sit through the interview of the scale of your craziness. If I ever arrived to the hospital back in Sheffield, it always led to the deepest regret, it’s like a laboratory, where they experiment on humans in distress: today we try aripiprazole, tomorrow we will offer your lithium, next week, we will try cortisol. I really never understood their problem, as I actually feel fine with my belief in Jesus, and that it might be me, and I am proud about my past lives.
The dialogue continues, but of course, it is a dialogue with a psychiatrist, and while he seems like a really good person, he can never take me seriously, even if some doubt might pass (or not) in his head. What if indeed I was Jesus? What is indeed God prepared a nice surprise? What if Jesus could be reborn as a female, and not that bad-looking too? Mhh?
How do I suspect such a grandiose mission, you might ask?
Well, I heard the God, and I saw white doves. I was once denied entering the church, because it is overtaken by fake believers (my post on the Abbey and the Devil can be read here), I see angels, and I hear music of God when I sleep.
And this time, of my god, but really, the devil appeared to me in his most magnificent allure as yet. I was standing in my garden at night, and there he was, appearing as a beautiful panther, with hypnotising eyes, leaning over the fence, standing firmly in the air, scaring and also fascinating me as never before. The Lucifer is truly amazing, and if I am indeed Jesus, or was one in my past life, then I am not running. Why should I run from temptations when I enjoy nice things in my life, such as good food on the table, nice red wine, coffee, cafes and bars, travelling, nice music, beautiful cremes and perfumes, and nice clothes?
My biggest dilemma is what was written in the Bible about him, but there were also some things about God in there that scared me out of shit, but I recently learned from one Celtic Christian priest, that we are offered a version of the bible, that was decided to be offered to the ordinary people, while there are many, too many texts, that never saw it into THE BOOK, because it was decided by some humans, that some truth should be hidden, and I really would like to be in Vatican and sort out the ancient texts and redo the Bible, into a better, appealing, powerful, beautiful version, destined for a humanity that needs so much hope.
I finished my last post promising to tell you about how I met the devil as depicted in the scariest Christian stories. However, since then I remembered that I had encountered the character way before in the 90s in Russia, much earlier than that time he appeared to me and my friend, and before I once saw him in one of my lucid-dreaming experiences (and where he showed how he really looks, and he can take many forms and appearances).
It is easier to write about it than talk, because people simply stopped believing in all that stuff, and it’s every day that I wonder how the Christianity survived till today, as everything in it can be judged as ‘delusions’ and according to the psychiatry, all Christians should be proclaimed as insane. I once read a psychiatric article where it was hinted quite clearly that Jesus had suffered from psychosis and exhibited all signs of being a bipolar. Needless to say it wasn’t a nice read, as for yet another time I started to doubt my own mind and my own sanity, because I believe in Jesus, and have seen the manifestations of parallel world many times. Denying this truth to me (and other people) is denying the whole reason of any existence based in spirituality, and once I tried to live a life denied of it, I stopped to see the aim of any life, or at least a life, based in some meaning. How can we wake up and not believe in Jesus, is a question I decided I don’t want to explore any longer. I have to add here that my own ‘search’ for Jesus took a long time, and not because I failed to realize until recently that Jesus is always around, but because I have been obscured by the presence of the devil almost my entire life. Yes, he is constantly around, and yes, I’ve met him and know for sure that he is as real as a glass of nice red wine I am drinking right now, while writing this post.
The problem with the devil is that he made his appearance in my life way before I received baptism in the Russian Christian Church (on my own accord, at the age of twelve), and hasn’t left me since, in terms of his presence. He appeared many times in my life, and I do wonder as to why he is so much interested in my persona. Do I have an interesting soul? Is it because I am indeed a holy fool (a concept to which I will come back again and again) or is it because I can contribute to humanity and he tries to ban me from doing good works? But I will try to quiet my ego for now and go back (in my mind) to that first time I met the devil in my life.
I was three years old then and was sleeping in my cot, on the sixteenth floor in our Moscow’s apartment. We lived on the top floor, and as was established later, the apartment was chased by the spirits or something similar, and my step-mother would discover some sort of insects all the time under the flower pots years later.
I woke up from a dream because I literally sensed a presence and then I glanced at the window, I saw HIM. He looked like a total monster from hell, with horns, and terrifying eyes, and I knew at once that it was the devil, and that he was interested in me.
Interestingly, I didn’t panic or anything like that at that point because, even at the age of three, I knew that there was no point in panicking. If I started to cry, the parents would arrive and tell me that he wasn’t real and that I had simply had a bad dream, and therefore, I did the opposite of child logic. I stared at him without crying and told myself aloud: yes, he is real, and what you see is not your imagination.
I also forgot that vision till later in life, but I had to resuscitate the memory once I had met him on that bench in Moscow, overlooking the church. You might ask me, but how do you know for sure? And the only answer I have, is that yes, I know, and the truth runs sometimes deeper than anything else. It is the whole core of your being which tells you that what you see and hear, while not visible to everyone else, is happening in reality. I also learned from experience that people simply don’t want to believe in uncomfortable truth, because once they do, the only remaining path is to embrace Christianity and pray for the return of Christ. And the path of a true Christian is indeed much harder than anything else.
I met the devil several times later in my life and will tell you more about the encounters. You don’t have to listen to me, of course, and you don’t have to believe in me, but I am sharing you my story from a vintage point of view of hexagram number 41 of the Chinese I Ching, line nine in the second place. The text of the oracle says: “…without decreasing oneself, one is able to increase to others”, which means that I share the story from the position of personal truth. You might believe and hear and see, but it’s obscured by what others reply to you in return. Jesus is real, and so is the devil, and the fight between good and the evil is taking place now on earth as never before.
In the next post I will tell you about how I attended the devil’s ball. It was during one of my lucid-dreaming, just for those who might start saying, but is she insane? All these whispers (implying insanity) are just whispers of the devil preventing so many of us from saying the truth, according to my gypsies cards (demons, card 47, in straight position). But I studied all the enemy tools (including all Tarot cards and oracles) for years, and therefore, yes, I have the tools and the courage to say the truth as I see it, and not as others tell me it should be.
Wilhelm, R. (1967). I Ching: a book of changes. Penguin.
Touchkoff, S. (1992). Russian Gypsy Fortune Telling Cards. Harper San Francisco.
(the fool in Tarot cards is, of course, showing us the path of a Holy Fool, it is all real, and it is all based in reality. Tarot cards taught me many lessons, and I am grateful for that)
We are making yet another break in chronology about the events in Russia back in the 1990s to look at an important issue, which has been bothering me for a while.
Let’s look at ‘normality’, let’s have a good look. Let’s even try to define it, because it has become relatively easy – the whole society is based in normality, it is difficult to miss. The definition is literally staring at our faces, reflections and minds.
Normality is when first of all, one acts ‘normal’. One is supposed to follow a certain life pattern nowadays, and dare you to do otherwise, – you will be proclaimed as insane if you don’t follow the rules. You need to finish school, continue studying, get a job, then a mortgage, meet your second half, have children, two holidays per year that one would prefer to spend at the sea or skiing, work more, retire, wait for visits from the grand-children. In between all this, one has to read the news brainwashing our brains, shop for Christmas and on Black Friday, celebrate the Valentine’s day, buy a new car every couple of years, save for a new TV, etc, etc. Just writing all this, I want to evaporate all that boring bullshit with a nice inhale from my vape. Or and I forgot the gym! One also has to be a member of the gym, being a member is enough, as you probably know, you don’t even have to go there, a gym card will do.
Normality is boring. It is so boring that you can stare at it, each day, and the picture remains the same, it is static. It is the desolate faces of people who greet you every morning on a train to work, it is the same tired faces when you return home from your work, the same reality TV which greets you back home when you watch your TV, the same shops that entice you to spend even if you can’t afford it or, more sadly, don’t need their merchandise. It is gossiping about your ex-best friend because she did something better with her life, or is depressed, and you think that it’s a good topic for gossip. It is wishing to marry a rich man, forgetting that there is also love and care, and that being marrying to a rich man without being in love, is a total nightmare. Or when you stay in a marriage because you are afraid to leave and have no job or qualifications because you put all your faith in a rich husband. The syndrome of normality is also when everything simply has to be normal, without extraordinary thinking, without challenges and even reflection. Even universities are affected by the syndrome, boasting of their ableism, as if being normal equals being perfect, while in reality, no one is ever perfect, and we all can get unwell, depressed, sad or anxious. It is a normal reaction when one relies on zero contract, when there is no stability and no security. One’s mental health is directly affected by the social circumstances in which we find ourselves.
I don’t like the normality, you see. I find it extremely boring. If I had to lead my life by the normality’s astonishingly boring to death rules, I wouldn’t be here. There would be no joy for me, no aspiration, no challenge and no magic. I learned from an early age that I can always rely on myself, and thus, I am not defined by any rich husband or aspirations about how to get a mortgage and save for the next TV. I don’t watch any TV (very rarely), and I always can find a job to sustain myself. It also happens that I love my job, and work, and not labor, is an essential part for a person to feel happy and fulfilled. Without it, we feel useless, even if there is a thick bank account at one’s disposal. One can feel good only when one does something meaningful with one’s life.
Our boring society is running itself to its boring death, with laughter being replaced by the capitalism which sees no respite in its own making. Where love is replaced by the Instagram culture, Tinder culture, and the reassurance from the authorities that status and money do matter, instead of finding a job one really likes, even if it isn’t the best paying job. Where care is replaced by the ever-consumption, with animals being tortured still in civilized countries, to make sure your cream of more than hundred pounds is good for your skin.
Remove the normality, and only when you will see, and you will start caring. You will see when what Greta is on about, with fires in Australia, dying forests, and lands. You will see that you should stop eating animals, because you will notice that they have a soul. You will stop planning the Christmas a year ahead, and just chill in the moment, perhaps making presents by your own hands, or realizing that a good tasty meal is maybe enough, when some people are dying from hunger on the same Christmas day where you are inundated with presents.
Get away with normality, and you will start questioning things. You will start thinking about deeper and more meaningful values. You will notice that there are more and more homeless people on the streets in your ‘civilized’, ‘democratic’ country, and you will ask: why? You will realize that one in third has a mental health problem, and you will question, why? You will finally notice that even in your ‘rich’ country, children have nothing to eat, and you will hopefully cry, because it isn’t fair, and it wasn’t our God’s plan.
Have a glance beyond the normality, and you will encounter angels, you will communicate with God, you will meet the fairies, and you will know: it is humans and only humans who are the biggest problem on this earth, with their distorted normality, greediness and death of moral values.
F…the normality, I prefer to be ‘insane’, which in our days, means being saner than the rest of our miserable population.
Dealing with bad voices in your head is an emergency you have to address in a drastic way. They are real and they are bad. I don’t hear bad voices in my head, bad voices for me come from the society: they come from bad news on the TV, from adults shouting at children, from cries for help on the streets, from bad humans who try to condition, to dictate, to empower you, and to stigmatize. I do hear a voice, and it is my own voice, it is a voice I learned by talking with God. I laugh with him, he helps me through ‘laughing’, while navigating the society of misery, envy and despair. It is a voice which tells me to look at the menu for food, and then study it carefully when you are at a hospital, detained against your will under Mental Health Act, while you come there on your own to ask for help. It is a voice which tells me to laugh at the psychiatrist who tell me ‘you are ill’. It is a voice which helped me to emerge from the damage of psychiatry by inventing an imaginary friend, a voice of my best friend in life. You do need such a friend when you deal with the psychiatry
If you hear bad voices in your head, and they tell you something bad, such as ‘kill yourself’, ‘you are bad’, ‘you are not worthy’, etc, you need to outpower them. You can outpower them via music. Put headphones on your head, and go into the music, listen to it. You need to have very good music, just something won’t do. Taylor Swift, and especially her album ‘Reputation’ will help you, as well as some Rachmaninoff. Their energy comes directly from God, or if you don’t believe in God, they come from a space of healing, from people who overcame struggle, stigma, and something bad in their lives. BritneySpears (Blackout) is also very effective. The voice of Ellie Goulding is soothing.
You need to have lots of warm water when you deal with bad voices. Baths, warm shower over your head. Once they stop (the voices), you need to go out, into the garden, into the nature, and tune into birds. They are voices that will relieve you from the negativity you are dealing with.
Hearing bad voices doesn’t mean that something is wrong with you. The voices you hear are real, and it does come from the same evilness that the psychiatry emerged from. You are sensitive to it. And they do target you, because they want to get you under their trap.
It all started under the second world war, during Holocaust, when they were doing experiments on humans who came into their concentration camps. It began in Germany, but German people weren’t at fault, Germany became an experiment for the evil mind. They did experiment on people, and they did learn lots of things. They learned that souls are real, they learned that human mind can never be understood, and that kindness and compassion comes directly from the heart, it comes from God. They also learned that they can condition people via messages, and they do transfer messages. It is a witchcraft that you can never understand unless you are evil, and you are dealing with evil. You do need very powerful ‘magic’ to survive what you are dealing with (if you are under the psychiatry curse). And you do need to believe in humanity while you are trying to survive. The psychiatrists who come into the system now, often don’t understand themselves what they are entering and what they are doing, some of them genuinely want to help (they don’t know how), and you do need their cooperation to outsmart the evil, and win over it, once and for good. There are still people who are good, they are just deeply conditioned, and they are conditioned by evil. Madness is not what they tell you. It isn’t you. Madness is wars, killing of people, terrorism, wars between religions, bullying, bad things happening to good people, starving children, September Eleven, hunger, homelessness, people locked up in psychiatric hospitals for life without any hope left, extermination of Native Americans, racism, discrimination of sexualities, and psychiatry as an industry targeting children and vulnerable people.
But I will come back to it in due term, for now, I will tell you a story.
I learned about the ‘experiment’ with voices from P. C. (a real person in real life) was a famous psychologist from the UK. She committed a suicide.
I met P. in Amsterdam.
P. was in deep sadness when I met her. She presented herself as Pandora to me, and it was through probing her that I learned who she was. She was undergoing electroshock ‘treatment’ and she ended up in a psychiatric hospital after an attempt at suicide. She was very outspoken about the fact that she would still end her life and was in the hospital against her will. She had lost a son in her life. He had died in a car accident.
You can’t overcome grief after you lose your child, you can live only if you start believing that your child is in heaven and that you will meet again. There is no other way, it is otherwise, irreconcilable as an idea.
I don’t know what happened exactly to P., and I wasn’t at her funeral. In my mind I try to believe that she is alive somewhere, that she is still here. She was kind, she was extremely eccentric, she was smart, she was intelligent, she was wearing a perfume and heels in the hospital when I would visit her.
I read a text on her laptop when she was smoking a cigarette. She didn’t know I was reading it.
Her text (and it is a summary) said the following:
“During ten years of my life I worked in a facility in England. In that facility they were experimenting with human emotions and how to target them. They were actively developing a system of how to separate children from their real parents, and how to incorporate their growing thoughts. For instance, when you say to your child ‘you aren’t worthy’, the child will grow up believing in it. Or if you learn how to transfer a message ‘you aren’t loved’, it will grow a seed of non-love in one’s mind. The idea was to target first parents, separate them from their children, and exterminate love and hope all together.”
I stopped reading the text somewhere in the middle and threw away her laptop. P. was very angry with me for days after, because I had ruined her computer. I had to throw up after reading the text, and for years after I tried to reassure myself that it was just a fiction and that it wasn’t real. After all, it happened in a psychiatric hospital.
You have to believe your own eyes in what you see when you deal with evil. Yes, bad things are real and they do happen. P. was a victim like many others, trapped in a psychiatric journey.
But coming back to voices, they are real. Bad voices come from conditioning, from hysterical parents who tell you that you are bad, from trauma in your childhood, from a bad teacher who shouts at you, from a ‘doctor’ who yells at you that you are sick when you are not, from poverty, and from bad people.
I don’t know whether that facility that P. described is real. I was never there and I don’t want to have a look.
But having lived my own story till now, yes, I do think that it’s real.
You do need to shut bad voices down. You need to exercise again and again with music, with birds, and from asking someone to tell you the opposite of what you hear in your head. Ask them to tell you: ‘You are loved,’ ‘you are worthy‘, ‘you are beautiful’.