Vol 3, No 9       


Wanderer From the Splendid City
The Secret Legend of Belovodye - Part III
translated by Timofey Reshetov

 
 

he rising sun illumined the snowy peaks, and the gleam of its rays created the impression that they were lit with a fiery flame.

There was not a soul anywhere. I was alone with my Lord who had led me here after such a long path.

I was possessed by a feeling of ultimate happiness, excitement, and unearthly joy, combined with deep spiritual repose. I lay down on the trail with my head toward the highest mountain and kissed the stony soil, shedding tears of deep emotion, thanking my Lord without words, in the only way I could, for His mercy.

I went further. Soon there was a crossroad; both trails seemed to be equally leading to the highest mountain. I took the one on the right, for it led along the path that was in the Sun.

With a prayer and a song, I was going ahead.

There were two more crossroads on the first day. At the first, a snake was creeping across one of the trails, as though blocking my way, so I chose the other trail. At the next crossroad, three stones blocked one of the trails, so I took the one that was free.

On the second day there was only one crossroad, the fourth one, and there the trail divided into three. But a butterfly was flittering over one of the trails, so I chose that path.

After midday, my way took me past a mountain lake of astonishing beauty, where slight ripples in the sunlight gave the water a surprising and strange whiteness.

On the third day, the rays of the rising Sun, as on previous days, illuminated the white, snow-covered peaks of the highest mountain and surrounded it with a fiery flame.

But this time, I felt my soul rushing upwards. I stared, and my heart could not get enough of the beauty I saw.

Saying my prayers, and without taking my eyes off of the mountain peaks, I merged my Soul with the fire surrounding the mountain, and saw it become alive. In its currents, there appeared snow-white, gleaming figures — the figures of angels — constantly flying toward the mountain in a beautiful, circular dance. Gliding along the mountain's surface, they rose to its peak, then ascended beyond, disappearing in the boundless sky.

The Sun rose up from behind the mountain — and the vision was gone.

On the third day there were three more crossroads.

At the first of these, the fifth crossroad, an emerald colored, white-foamed brook babbled its way along one of the trails, so I chose that one.

By noon I reached the sixth crossroad. One trail went past a mountain that looked like a huge idol, guarding it. Without hesitation, I chose that one.

The seventh crossroad also had three trails. I followed the one that was more illumined by the rays of the Sun.

Solitary Traveler
Nicholas Roerich Painting
Moscow Oriental Museum, 1944I was not alone. For I felt and realized that everything surrounding me was alive, and offering up praise to the Pre-Eternal Creator, each in its own special way.

By evening, I caught a sound coming toward me. Soon, on a hilly slope off to the right, I saw a dwelling, alight in the last rays of the setting Sun.

I approached this dwelling, which was made of stone. After tendering thanks to the Creator for giving me shelter, I fell peacefully asleep.

At dawn, I was awakened by voices. Two people were standing in front of me. And although they were speaking in an unknown tongue, strangely, through some inner sensing, I could understand them — and they understood me.

They asked if I needed food. I replied: "I do, but only the spiritual kind."

So I went with them, and they took me to a settlement where I spent some time. People spoke to me a lot, and I was entrusted with various tasks and occupations, the fulfillment of which brought me great satisfaction.

Then I was taken further, having been told that the time had come for that.

I lost all count of time, for I never thought about it. Every day brought something new, surprisingly wise, and wonderful. It seemed at times that everything I was experiencing, everything that was occurring to me, was a some remarkable waking dream, for which I could find no explanation.

Thus, years passed until finally I was told that the time had come for me to return home — and that my path would lie through Tsargrad.




t will be some time before the human mind will be able to contain what I saw and learned. But there will be a time for this knowledge — and when that time is right, the Lord will reveal to the most deserving ones things incomparably greater than were revealed to me.

Leaving this world, I relate what I can.

The Country of Belovodye is not a fable, but reality.

In the legends of the peoples, it is always called differently. In marvelous adobe-like structures there abide gentle, humble, long-suffering, compassionate, merciful and sagacious Great Wise Men, shining ones — collaborators of the Higher World, where the Holy Spirit lives as in His Temple.

These Great Saint Heroes, uniting with the Lord, comprise with Him a single spirit. They work diligently, by the sweat of their brow, together with all the celestial Light Forces, for the welfare and good of all the peoples of the Earth.

There is the Kingdom of Pure Spirit, beauty, wondrous fire, elevated and fascinating mysteries, joy, light, love, repose of its own kind, and inconceivable majesties...

Many people from everywhere aspire to the Forbidden Country. But only seven are invited there every hundred years, and of them, only six return, taking with them the innermost knowledge, development of new senses, and radiance of heart and soul, just as I did.

Only one remains there.

Those who are there live as long as they wish or need. For them, time stops.

Whatever happens in the world is known to them. Everything is seen. Everything is heard.

Once my spirit had grown stronger, I was given the possibility to be out of body on the highest mountain, in Tsargrad, Kiev, and also to know, see, or hear whatever I wished.

There, it is known for sure that the Orthodox faith, for the Grand Duke and for all the people of our country, is the best. There is no faith more spiritual, grand, clear, light, or beautiful then this one. Only this faith is ordained to unite all peoples of our country and be one with them.

In 1000 more years, the forces of hell will rage with blind fury, restlessly encroaching and shaking our Russia to the foundation. The more frightful the offense, the more will all the people be welded together by the Faith — and nothing will impede its way to the Most High.

The forces of pure Light, of unearthly fire, will overthrow the enemies. The Living Fires will cure the wounds of the happy country. On the ruins of the old, a new Great People will arise, rich in the beauty of Spirit. The best of the Chosen Ones will carry the Word of the Living God to all countries of the Earth. They will give peace and goodwill to the world, and will open the Gates of Life of the Future Age.

Written down on the 15/27th of July, 1893,
after the words of Father Vladimir,
celibate priest of the Vyshensky Monastery of
the Assumption, Tambov region, Shatsk district
V.G.


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