My posthumous adventures of Yulia Voznesenskaya epub. Yulia Voznesenskaya - my posthumous adventures

Yulia Voznesenskaya. My posthumous adventures

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What are the ordeals of the soul, what awaits us after death, what temptations lie in wait for us - “My Posthumous Adventures” tells about this - a collection of grains of spiritual wisdom and experience of many people.

Yulia Voznesenskaya. My posthumous adventures

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Yulia Nikolaevna Voznesenskaya was born in 1940 in Leningrad. In 1976 she was sentenced to four years of exile for anti-Soviet propaganda. In 1980 she was sent into exile to Germany. In 1996-1999 she lived in the Lesna Convent of the Blessed Virgin Mary in France (ROCOR, Provemont, Normandy).

At this time, with the blessing of the late Mother Superior Afanasia, the story-parable “My Posthumous Adventures” was written, figuratively telling about what awaits a person after death. Since 2002 he has lived in Berlin.

Yulia Nikolaevna began working on the book “My Posthumous Adventures” in the late nineties of the last century, with the blessing of Mother Abbess Afanasia. It is noteworthy that Yulia Nikolaevna was inspired to describe the first meeting of the main character of the story with Satan by her spiritual mother, retired abbess Afanasy. It was to her that the demon appeared when she was in a state of clinical death. And even the description of the external appearance of Satan, who appeared to Anna, was reproduced exactly according to the story of Mother Athanasia. The spiritual experience of the author’s mentor, the late abbess of the Lesna monastery, once again testifies to how much we all need knowledge about the posthumous fate of the human soul, the knowledge that the Judgment of God awaits each of us. In the words of the Apostle Paul: And as it is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment (Heb. 9:27).

Nowadays, an increasing number of people, dissatisfied with materialistic descriptions of the world, are rushing in search of another, spiritual world, or, as it is also called, “otherworldly.” Advertising propaganda by the media of all kinds of religious movements, sects, occult societies and practicing magicians makes it possible to easily, without obstacles, penetrate into the lives of any of us those who, at best, are swindlers, and at worst, representatives of sects and teachings that can destroy forever not only human life, but also the human soul. The Orthodox Church always warns its children about this, as well as those who have not yet turned their thoughts to the Lord. Yet many of us are troubled by thoughts of an “afterlife.” What lies ahead? Why were we given earthly life? Where will our souls go after death?

Memories of departed loved ones cause grief and heartache about the irreparability of what happened. Many of us are familiar with the feeling of guilt towards the dead; many are tormented by worries about the impossibility of making peace, asking for forgiveness, or correcting the pain caused. But faith in God gives consolation; You often hear from non-believers: “Happy! You well! You believe that you will meet your loved ones after death, you think that they will hear you and be able to forgive you!” Yes, those who believe in God are indeed happy. The Orthodox Church, founded by the Son of God, the Lord Jesus Christ, helps us and saves us. The Church calls us to think now about what awaits us after death.

Every Christian knows that his soul is immortal, that he will rise on the Day of Judgment, and his body will rise from the dust according to the will of God and will be reunited with his soul - for eternal joy or for eternal torment. Therefore, each of us should think very seriously about how the soul protects its purity while on Earth, and how our earthly life corresponds to the Lord’s commandments.

There are many ways and techniques to appeal to the human soul, to encourage it to comprehend its future destiny. In terms of power of influence, fiction has always been one of the first. A book can have a huge impact on thoughts and feelings; the characters of your favorite books are imprinted in your hearts for a long time.

The miracles and amazing events that happen to the main character of the book are woven from real episodes that took place in the life of the author of “My Posthumous Adventures” and her loved ones. Yulia Voznesenskaya resorts to artistic images, metaphors, comparisons, trying to convey the feelings of the soul meeting God. The fate of the heroine of the book, Anna, is not an absolute fiction, but supported by the mentoring support of Mother Abbess and spiritual literature, the experience of communion with God and personal reflections of the author of the book.

The work of Yulia Nikolaevna Voznesenskaya was greatly influenced by the patristic writings and works of the ascetics of the Orthodox Church, Her Holy Tradition. “My Posthumous Adventures” calls on each of us to think about the significance and purpose of earthly life, to realize responsibility for every thought and action, to evaluate our life according to our conscience and in the light of the Lord’s commandments.

It is worth reminding you, dear readers, that the proposed work is, first of all, an artistic narrative that makes us happy or sad, makes us laugh or causes tears. Anna's ordeals on the way to heaven, her torment and suffering in hell are not a snapshot from nature, but also not a random invention. In this case it is more of a symbol.

If any of the readers would like to learn more about the teaching of the Orthodox Church about death and resurrection, about ordeals, about heaven and hell, we suggest turning to the works of those who worked hard in earthly life for the sake of salvation from eternal death, hoping for a meeting with the Lord and reunification with Him, trying to leave a description of the path along which we can freely follow to a meeting with God. We advise you to turn to the work of St. Ignatius (Brianchaninov) “The Word on Death”, to the work of the monk Mitrofan “How our dead live and how we will live after death”, to the book of Hieromonk Seraphim (Rose) “The Soul after Death”, and many other works and creations of the reverend fathers and ascetics of the Orthodox Church, which provide knowledge about the posthumous fate of man.

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The book you are holding in your hands, “My Posthumous Adventures,” is an attempt to convey to the reader the good news that we were not created to die. That our life has meaning, and all the people who have ever lived on our land have not disappeared without a trace. About the fact that we “will not die the death”, because for a person death is not destruction, but a transition to another life, life after death.

“My Posthumous Adventures” is an attempt to captivate us with thoughts about the brevity of human memory and the poverty of our knowledge about the secrets of the soul. In terms of genre and style, it is perhaps closest to the wonderful, kind Christian books by C. S. Lewis, “The Divorce of Marriage,” “Letters of a Screwtape,” or to the books of our contemporary writer Nikolai Blokhin, “The Deep Quag,” and “Granny’s Glass.” The genre of these books can be designated as “Christian fantasy,” but only conditionally, because what they tell is not fiction, but a symbolic story about spiritual reality.

The miracles and amazing events that happen to the main character of the book are woven from real episodes that took place in the life of the author of “My Posthumous Adventures” and her loved ones. Yulia Voznesenskaya resorts to artistic images, metaphors, comparisons, trying to convey the feelings of the soul meeting God. The fate of the heroine of the book, Anna, is an unpretentious fiction of the author, but an attempt in the form of a fantastic parable to tell the reader about our afterlife, knowledge about which is preserved by patristic experience and the Tradition of the Orthodox Church.

“My Posthumous Adventures” calls on each of us to think about the significance and purpose of earthly life, to realize responsibility for every thought and action, to evaluate our life according to our conscience and in the light of the Lord’s commandments.

MY POST-DEATH ADVENTURES

You are given to know secrets
Kingdom of God
and the rest - in parables.
God bless!

Chapter 1

My posthumous adventures began with the fact that I fell from the fourth floor and crashed.

The police, as I later found out, had two versions - just suicide and murder disguised as suicide.

Both versions had nothing in common with reality and even as conjectures were not worth much, since they were based solely on the testimony of my emigrant friends. The version of suicide was simple, like a woman's novel, and in a nutshell it boiled down to the fact that my husband left me, and in response I threw myself from the balcony. If I really reacted this way to George’s betrayal, there wouldn’t be enough balconies in our entire apartment building.

The second version - murder disguised as suicide - was not suitable for the simple reason that George was not suitable for the role of a murderer: like almost all fornicators and favorites of women, he was, in essence, an adult child, capriciously seeking admiration and affection, weak and a little hysterical, but essentially helpless and kind. He avoided dangers on his life's path, avoided obstacles and never went to extremes.

Everything was much simpler. Our cat Watermelon loved to go to the toilet in nature, and my flower boxes hung from the balcony railing - above and below - served him as such. As soon as the balcony door was left open for exactly a minute, he would immediately sneak into the luxurious thickets of petunias and shit there with pleasure. And that wouldn’t be so bad: but, having committed obscenity and sensing retribution, the vile desecrator of innocent flowers cowardly tried to hide the traces of the crime, while clods of earth and scolded branches of petunias flew in different directions.

No amount of educational measures, including beating him on the head with a “Russian Thought” folded in four, could cure the cat of his favorite vice.

That ill-fated morning, I went out onto the balcony several times so as not to miss the taxi I had ordered the night before, and I simply forgot to close the balcony door behind me for the last time. The prodigal husband picked up a travel bag with foreign gifts for his, of course, unknown to me, Moscow girlfriend and went to the elevator, and I escorted him out the door with the usual parting words: don’t even think about coming back and don’t forget to put on a warm sweater before boarding - it’s cold in Moscow according to the forecast and rain. He just as usual said that everything would be fine, he would put on a sweater and call when to meet him. After that, I went to the bedroom, cried a little and fell asleep, because behind me I had almost a continuous night of showdown.

The heart-rending meow of Watermelon woke me up. I jumped out of bed and rushed to the balcony, from where his cries for help were flying.

The sneering cat, taking advantage of the open door and the silence in the house, this time got to the bottom drawer, did his dirty deed there, and was unable to get out back: his fat belly, for which, in combination with his stripes, was nicknamed Watermelon, did not let him to crawl between the bars of the grate, and spreading petunias prevented him from climbing over the top. I leaned over the railing and grabbed the cat by the scruff of the neck, and he was so scared that, just to be sure, he twisted around and grabbed my hand with all twenty claws. I jerked in pain and, trying to grab him with my other hand, leaned too much over the railing: my legs almost came off the floor, and the scared Watermelon, such rubbish, at that decisive moment did not lose his head and jumped up over my shoulders and back and thereby saved his life. striped skin, he pushed me down. I completely lost my balance and fell headfirst from the fourth floor. I hasten to reassure those who are passionate about the welfare of pets: after I was taken to the hospital howling in an ambulance, and the police broke into the apartment, our neighbor Frau Hoffmann took the poor orphaned cat under her care, and he was doing well with her.

It was bad for her geraniums.

The lilac bush, which I fortunately fell into, was old and spreading - perhaps this slightly softened the blow. After all, I didn’t break softly, but only broke half of the bones and smashed my head like a nut.

When I woke up in the intensive care ward and in the mirrored ceiling above me I saw my mortal remains surrounded by doctors, I once again admired the successes of German medicine: a whole team of doctors treated my unfortunate limbs! Some put the broken ribs sticking out of it like springs from an old sofa back into the chest, others screwed some screws and dowels into the scattered bones of my legs, others dug into my slightly open stomach and sewed something there - and I watched everything that was happening in the mirror above me and felt neither pain nor fear - only complete and absolute peace.

I looked at the reflection of my face as it appeared between the green tops of the doctors bending over me: I wanted to see how my appearance corresponded to this medicinal bliss - and that’s when it all really began. I saw my face, but it was the face of a corpse: white to the point of bluishness, the nose became pointed, blue lips stuck to the teeth, between which a transparent tube stuck out, and in it something hissed and gurgled. I felt disgusted with myself - the faces of the dead always scared me, and then there was my own... But the worst thing was that my eyes were closed - so how can I see all this?!

Out of fright, I jerked to the side and... found myself hanging between two lamps from the ceiling. And in an instant everything turned upside down: there was no mirror above me - it was I myself who was upstairs and looking from there at my own body stretched out below. I was not afraid, since the thought of death had not yet visited me, but I was slightly disappointed: it turns out that German medicine had nothing to do with it, and for getting rid of pain I had to thank nature and some of my own defense mechanisms. Well, now everything is clear: this is a dream, this is nonsense, I am flying in a dream. In that case, why not fly somewhere nicer? That’s what I thought and immediately realized my intention, flying through the door someone opened into the hospital corridor.

Finding myself under the ceiling of the corridor - for some reason I was constantly being pulled upward - I discovered that a rather thick luminous cord was stretching from me through the door of the intensive care unit. I thought that I had accidentally dragged some kind of hose from the resuscitation equipment with me.

I wonder what I actually look like?

I tried to look at myself, and although I clearly had vision, even more vigilant than in reality, and I did not feel my eyes, but I just had to wish, and I saw myself from the outside: it was the former, but only translucent, something like a balloon in the shape of my body. The comparison that came to mind was further emphasized by this cord coming out of the middle of my chest, which, by the way, in this form had no protruding ribs or any other damage. On the contrary, I felt absolutely healthy and full of vigor.

At the far end of the corridor there was a large window, I decided to fly towards it. It was a pleasure to float under the ceiling, but I couldn’t fly further than the middle of the corridor: the cord to which I was tied became tense, and I felt a burning pain in my chest when I tried to tear it away from me.

I had to submit and turn in the opposite direction.

Dear parishioners! Today I would like to introduce you to Yulia Voznesenskaya’s book “My Posthumous Adventures”. To begin with, a few words about the author.

Yulia Voznesenskaya was born into the family of a military engineer, who after the war served in East Berlin, where the family lived from 1945 to 1950. Her father and mother were not believers and only converted to Orthodoxy at the end of their lives. Yulia Voznesenskaya studied at the Leningrad Institute of Theater, Music and Cinema, and was an active figure in informal art circles. She began publishing in 1966, and her first poems appeared first in periodicals, then in samizdat. In 1973 she was baptized. In 1980, she emigrated from the USSR with her two sons. Until 1984, she lived in Frankfurt am Main, then settled in Munich, where she worked at Radio Liberty. In 1996-1999 she lived in the Lesna Convent of the Blessed Virgin Mary in France (ROCOR, Provemont, Normandy). There, with the blessing of Mother Superior Afanasia, she wrote the story-parable “My Posthumous Adventures.” Since 2002 she lived in Berlin, where she died on February 20, 2015. She was buried in the Orthodox cemetery in Tegel.
This book first came into my hands when I was 33 years old. Chance or fate, but while ordering books on the Internet, I came across a confusing title: “My Posthumous Adventures.” Adventures? Posthumous? My?! The abstract of the work interested me - I decided to buy the book. And subsequently I never regretted it: the book made a deep impression on me.
This story-parable, of course, cannot be compared with the Sacred texts, descriptions of the Lives of the Saints and many other Orthodox literature. It is written in simple language, but very beautifully, with many metaphors, comparisons and symbols. I don’t want to reveal the content of the story - let each reader himself go through this path of surprise, revelation, deepening into himself, realizing and analyzing his mistakes, repentance and hope for salvation. “My Posthumous Adventures” calls on each of us to think about the significance and purpose of earthly life, to realize responsibility for every thought and action, to evaluate our life according to our conscience and in the light of the Lord’s commandments.
This book will be especially important for young people: perhaps the vivid descriptions of the ordeals will warn you against possible mistakes. The soul of the main character Anna, while her body, entangled in wires, is in the hospital, goes through a long Path to the Lord, meeting on it the souls of her relatives and demons, who at each ordeal read out a list of Anna’s sins - which she did not even consider sins! - and those trying to get her soul for themselves and into the power of the patron of darkness. Each chapter of this story is a small or large revelation, depending on what each reader considers to be the main thing in his life, what sins he repents of, and what he asks for forgiveness for. The story contains many descriptions of our worldly dreams about material wealth, about a beautiful body, about instant fulfillment of desires without the need to put effort into it, about a happy home with the realization of all kinds of pleasures, where there is no need to worry about order, or work, or the soul, where every day of “happy” idleness is similar to the previous one. And the story is about how Anna’s soul breaks out of this artificial and primitive paradise, continuing the Path to the Savior. This book is also about a wife’s trust in her husband, about her prayers for him, about how the spouse’s soul is saved by the spouse’s sincere requests for him to the Almighty. About the need for fasting and prayer, about the ability to accept the events of your life as lessons and as gifts from God. This book is about many things and about the eternal. I am sure that every reader will be amazed by the accurate description of his fears, his thoughts, his sins, will see himself from the outside and will be horrified by the act committed in anger, in cowardice, out of ignorance. And he will rejoice in the mercy and love of the Lord, and will be grateful for his life and for his cross. And all fears of the incomprehensible “other world” will go away, and a person will work on himself and rejoice at the upcoming meeting with God.
Be sure to read this book! No matter what age you are! No matter what part of life is behind you! This book gives great joy and great hope for Forgiveness.

Yulia Savelyeva

(information about the biography of Yulia Voznesenskaya was taken from the website)

We present to your attention an excerpt from the book by Yulia Voznesenskaya:

MY POST-DEATH ADVENTURES

It has been given to you to know the secrets of the Kingdom of God, but to others - in parables.
God bless!
OK. 8:10

Chapter 1

My posthumous adventures began with the fact that I fell from the fourth floor and crashed.

The police, as I later found out, had two versions - just suicide and murder disguised as suicide.

No amount of educational measures, including beating him on the head with a folded Russian Thought in four, could cure the cat of his favorite vice.

The heart-rending meow of Watermelon woke me up. I jumped out of bed and rushed to the balcony, from where his cries for help were flying.

It was bad for her geraniums.

I wonder what I actually look like?

Current page: 1 (book has 11 pages total) [available reading passage: 7 pages]

Yulia Voznesenskaya
My posthumous adventures

THE MYSTERY OF DEATH

Introductory article

My soul, my soul, rise up, write it off,
The end is approaching, and the need says:
Rise up, may Christ God have mercy on you,
The same was everywhere, and they did everything.
Canon on the separation of the soul from the body

Nowadays, more and more people, dissatisfied with materialistic descriptions of the world, are rushing in search of another, spiritual world, or, as it is also called, “otherworldly.” Advertising propaganda by the media of all kinds of religious movements, sects, occult societies and practicing magicians makes it possible to easily, without obstacles, penetrate into the lives of any of us those who, at best, are swindlers, and at worst, representatives of sects and teachings that can destroy forever not only human life, but also the human soul.

The Orthodox Church always warns its children about this, as well as all those laity who have not yet turned to Christ. Some are driven to search for “spirituality” by curiosity, many, disillusioned with their lives, try to find solace in some religious or occult teaching, and many are driven to this by some kind of misfortune. Most often, such people have lost their closest, dearest people - a child, a husband, a lover... It is scary to realize that you are forever separated from a dear person, that inevitable death awaits you in the end. Powerless despair seizes a person at the thought of the absurdity of life, which will have to end ingloriously, while one could live and live...

So many of them fell into this abyss,
I'll open up in the distance!
The day will come when I too will disappear
From the surface of the earth. (...)
And there will be life with its daily bread,
With the forgetfulness of the day.
And everything will be as if under the sky
And I wasn’t there!

– wrote Marina Tsvetaeva. And these lines are close to each of us, the feeling that dictated them is clear. We are all doomed to die.

But Christianity announced truly good news to all humanity - the news of our personal immortality, of eternal life, of victory over death. What does it mean?

It is in Christianity that we find the doctrine of personal immortality, of the eternal existence of the individual human soul. Holy Scripture understands bodily death as a transition from one state to another, from one form of being to another.

The Orthodox Church teaches us that the death of a person is the separation of his soul from the body, and is called in the Holy Scriptures by different names: exodus, end, removal of the soul from its prison, release from the bonds of the body, departure, dormition, etc. With this separation of the two components of which a person consists, that is, soul and body, his body, like dust, returns to the earth, and his spirit returns to God (Eccl. 12:7).

The cause of man's death lies in his fall, since man, through his disobedience, allowed death into the world. Death is the limit by which the time of exploits ends for a person, and the time of retribution begins, so that after death it is impossible for us to repent or correct.

In other words, death does not represent the disappearance of a person at all, but only a transition to a spiritual state, which is the ultimate goal of earthly life. With death, the moral development of a person stops, any further changes in him are excluded, and moral retribution begins for everything that we have done in our lives here in this world.

But our immortal souls, even after death, retain their self-awareness, spiritual strength and will intact, and remember the circumstances, persons, and events of their earthly life. That is, we remain ourselves even after death, without dissolving into faceless nothingness and without disappearing without a trace. Our bodies will turn to dust, and our souls will await the Last Judgment, staying, depending on their spiritual state at the time of death, either in heaven, with the souls of the righteous, or in hell, along with demons and the souls of sinners. We, like old garments, will put off our flesh and pass into the next world, awaiting the resurrection of all the dead, when “He who raised Christ from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through His Spirit who dwells in you.” (Rom. 8:11)

But death remains deeply unnatural. It is alien to us, it causes horror, for death was not part of God’s eternal plan for creation. God created us not to die, but to live. Moreover, God created us as an indivisible whole.

By death, a person is painfully cut into two parts, his components, and after death there is no longer a person, his soul and body exist separately. By separating body and soul, death thereby violently destroys the unity of our human nature. Yes, death awaits us all, but the Orthodox Church tells us that death is unnatural. She is monstrous and tragic when we see her from the outside, she evokes protest from our entire nature, hopeless horror when we ourselves find ourselves in front of her. Christ himself prayed to avoid it and cried over the dead Lazarus. We live in a world thoroughly saturated with death, death that came after our falling away from the Source of Eternal Life - from God.

Why did the Lord allow death?

Death is God's gift to people. This is the gift of His mercy and compassion. For us humans, eternal life, poisoned by suffering and sin, would turn into eternal torment. We would, unrestrained by anything, plunge more and more into the abyss of sin, brought to life by our own will. We would become like Satan himself and his demons, which would turn eternal life into eternal death and endless torment. After all, it is precisely this eternal life-suffering, poisoned by sin, that will befall those who at the Last Judgment will find themselves, due to their evil deeds, incapable of life with God. After death, every person will remain the same as she found him, for this earthly life of ours is determined for us to test who we are with: with God and the saints, or with Satan and demons.

And so, God gave us a way out. He separates the union of soul and body, in order to then recreate it anew, reunite it in the bodily resurrection on the Day of the Last Judgment, and thus again lead the renewed person to the fullness of life. As Bishop Kallistos (Ware) of Diokleia once said: “With the help of bodily death, the Lord brings home his child.”

And even though death itself is disgusting, abnormal, unnatural, but Christians see in it the hope and blessing of God - after all, it returns us to the Father’s house. And it is not for nothing that in the Orthodox tradition we call death the Dormition. The quiet sleep of the body while the soul awaits the glorious resurrection on its Day.

And everything in the life of a true Christian is the expectation of death and preparation for it, because it is our outcome and release from the bonds of the body. Rest from spiritual warfare and meeting with Christ and with our previously departed loved ones. There the husband will meet his wife, and the mother will meet her child. There we will see our God, Creator and Savior, in glory.

And the whole life of a Christian is following this hope, the path to God, the return of the wanderer home.

What awaits the soul after death? According to the teaching and Tradition of the Orthodox Church, after death our souls face a private judgment, different from the general Last Judgment that will take place at the end of the world. How private judgment occurs is not explained in Holy Scripture. But we find a figurative representation of this judgment, based on Holy Tradition and in agreement with Holy Scripture, in the doctrine of ordeals, which has existed since ancient times in the Orthodox Church.

We find the essence of the teaching in the word of St. Cyril of Alexandria about the exodus of the soul, excerpts from which we will quote: “When our soul is separated from the body, the armies and powers of heaven will appear before us on the one hand, on the other - the powers of darkness, the evil rulers of the world, the airy tax collectors (publican - tax collector. Note . O.G.), tormentors and exposers of our deeds... Having seen them, the soul will be indignant, shudder, tremble, and in confusion and horror will seek protection from the angels of God, but, being received by the holy angels, and the air space flowing under their roof and ascending to the heights, she will encounter various ordeals (like some kind of outposts or customs at which duties are collected), which will block her path to the Kingdom, will stop and hold back her desire for it. At each of these ordeals, an account of specific sins will be required. (...) Briefly said, every passion of the soul, every sin will similarly have its publicans and torturers (...) And if for her pious and godly life she turns out to be worthy, then the angels will accept her, and then she will fearlessly flow to the kingdom, accompanied by holy powers. (...) On the contrary, if it turns out that she spent her life in negligence and intemperance, then she will hear this terrible voice: let the wicked be taken, let him not see the glory of the Lord (Is. 26:10) (...); then the angels of God will leave her and terrible demons will take her (...); and the soul, bound by insoluble bonds, will be cast into a gloomy and dark country, into the places of hell, into underground prisons and hellish dungeons.”

Metropolitan Macarius (Bulgakov) in his Orthodox Dogmatic Theology writes: “From here it is obvious that ordeals represent an inevitable path by which all human souls, both evil and good, make their transition from temporary life to an eternal lot; that during the ordeals, during this transition, every soul, in the presence of angels and demons, without a doubt before the eye of the All-Seeing Judge(my italics, O. G.), is gradually and in detail tortured in all her deeds, evil and good; that as a result of these tortures, this detailed account of each soul in its previous life, good souls, justified in all ordeals, are ascended by angels directly to the heavenly abodes, and sinful souls, detained at one or another ordeal, accused of wickedness, are dragged by the verdict of the invisible Judge the demons in their dark abodes. And, therefore, ordeals are nothing more than a private trial that is carried out on human souls and invisibly by the Lord Jesus himself through angels, admitting to him the slanderers of our brethren, evil spirits - a trial in which the soul is remembered and impartially evaluated before all her affairs, and after which her known fate is determined. (...) It should however be noted that, just as in general in the depiction of objects of the spiritual world for us clothed with flesh, more or less sensual, humanoid features are inevitable - so in particular, they are inevitably admitted in the detailed teaching about the ordeals that human life goes through soul upon separation from the body. Therefore, we must firmly remember the instruction that the angel gave to the Monk Macarius of Alexandria, as soon as he began to speak about the ordeals: “Take earthly things here as the weakest image of heavenly ones. It is necessary to imagine ordeals not in a crude, sensual sense, but, as much as possible for us, in a spiritual sense, and not get attached to particulars, which in different writers and in different legends of the Church itself, despite the unity of the basic thought about ordeals, are presented as different.”

At the end of the discussion about the private trial of the dead, we can add a very interesting thought from St. Theophan (Govorov) the Recluse: “No matter how wild the thought of ordeals may seem to wise men, they cannot be avoided. What are these Mytniks looking for in those passing by? Whether they don't have their product. What is their product? Passion. Therefore, whoever has an immaculate heart and is free from passions, they cannot find anything to which they could become attached; on the contrary, the quality opposite to them will strike them themselves like lightning arrows. To this, one of the many scientists expressed another thought: ordeals seem to be something terrible; but it is very possible that demons, instead of something terrible, represent something lovely. They present seductively charming things, according to all types of passions, to the passing soul one after another. When passions are expelled from the heart in the continuation of earthly life and the virtues opposite to them are implanted, then whatever charming thing you imagine, the soul, which has no sympathy for it, passes it by, turning away from it with disgust. And when the heart is not cleansed, then for which passion it most sympathizes, that’s why the soul rushes there. The demons take her as if they were friends, and then they already know where to put her. This means that it is very doubtful that the soul, as long as there remains in it sympathy for the objects of any passions, will not be ashamed at the ordeal. The shame here is that the soul itself is thrown into hell.” (St. Theophan the Recluse. Interpretation of Psalm 118.) Summarizing the above, we can confidently say that after death our souls really await a private trial in the form of ordeals, where we will be given the opportunity to realize our whole life, and where we will be convicted first of all by themselves, by their conscience and their deeds. If we do not cleanse our souls here, in this life, with repentance and do not abandon our evil deeds, then we will follow the demons to hell, because we did their deeds, fulfilled their will, and clung to them with our hearts.

And our Church, reminding us during the liturgy of death and judgment, prays to the Most Holy Trinity:

We ask the Lord to end the rest of our life in peace and repentance.

The Christian death of our belly is painless, shameless, peaceful, and we ask for a good answer at the Last Judgment of Christ.

For those who remain here on earth, for the living, death is separation. But the Orthodox faith teaches us that this separation is temporary, and we all hope to be united again in our Lord Jesus Christ. For the Church, in the Church, the living and the dead are members of one family. The abyss of death is not insurmountable due to the fact that all of us, both living and dead, are alive in Christ, and the souls of the departed hear our prayers. It’s as if someone close to us is simply away, in a place where we cannot write or call.

But we can pray for him, and he for us.

How to maintain communication with the dead?

There is a wrong way. This is the path of the occult sciences, the path of spiritualism and necromania. The Orthodox Church warns us about the danger and unacceptability of this path. Such attempts can plunge our souls into the power of demons, because we voluntarily call on them, trying to find out something about the dead. In his “Records” Fr. Alexander Elchaninov wrote: “We must humbly accept the existence of the Mystery, and not try to sneak up the back stairs to listen at the door.”

From the lives of saints, we know that sometimes the dead communicate with the living in dreams or visions. But there should be no attempts on our part to impose such contacts. Any methods of such spiritual extortion and blackmail are contrary to the Christian conscience and will not benefit us. Our communication with the dead occurs not on a mental, but on a spiritual level, and we meet each other not at a reception with an occultist or psychic, but in church, during the celebration of the Eucharist. We pray for the departed, and they pray for us, and in such prayerful intercession we are united, we defeat death. Our prayer for the dead is an expression of our love and care for them, and this is its main reason and explanation. It is not given to us to know how our prayer works, just as we do not know by what principle all our prayers operate. But we know, and this has been repeatedly confirmed in the revelations of the saints, that the dead receive relief from our prayerful intercession for them.

And commemoration of the dead is an indispensable duty of love for those who live here on earth; it is a feat of piety for every Orthodox Christian. We all trust in the mercy of God and pray that every soul will be saved.

For beyond death, the Easter joy of the Resurrection awaits us!

Where is your sting, death; where is your, hell, victory;

Christ is risen, and you have erupted ecu. Christ is risen, and the demons are padogia. Christ is risen and the angels rejoice. Christ is risen, and life lives. Christ is risen, and not one dead man is in the tomb; For Christ, having risen from the dead, became the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep. To him be glory and power, forever and ever,

Amen. 1
"Word for Easter" by St. John Chrysostom

* * *

“My Posthumous Adventures” is an attempt to captivate us with thoughts about the brevity of human memory and the poverty of our knowledge about the secrets of the soul. In terms of genre and style, it is perhaps closest to the wonderful, kind Christian books by C.S. Lewis “Dissolution of Marriage”, “Letters of a Screwtape”, or to the books of our contemporary writer Nikolai Blokhin “The Deep Quagmire”, “Grandma’s Glasses”. The genre of these books can be designated as “Christian fantasy,” but only conditionally, because what they tell is not fiction, but a symbolic story about spiritual reality.

The miracles and amazing events that happen to the main character of the book are woven from real episodes that took place in the life of the author of “My Posthumous Adventures” and her loved ones. Yulia Voznesenskaya resorts to artistic images, metaphors, comparisons, trying to convey the feelings of the soul meeting God. The fate of the heroine of the book, Anna, is an unpretentious fiction of the author, but an attempt in the form of a fantastic parable to tell the reader about our afterlife, knowledge about which is preserved by patristic experience and the Tradition of the Orthodox Church.

MY POST-DEATH ADVENTURES

You are given to know secrets

Kingdom of God

and the rest - in parables.

God bless!

OK. 8:10

Chapter 1

My posthumous adventures began with the fact that I fell from the fourth floor and crashed.

The police, as I later found out, had two versions - just suicide and murder disguised as suicide.

Everything was much simpler. Our cat Watermelon loved to go to the toilet in nature, and my boxes with flowers, suspended from the balcony lattice - from above and below - served him as such. As soon as the balcony door was left open for exactly a minute, he would immediately sneak into the luxurious thickets of petunias and shit there with pleasure. And that wouldn’t be so bad: but, having committed obscenity and sensing retribution, the vile desecrator of innocent flowers cowardly tried to hide the traces of the crime, while clods of earth and scolded branches of petunias flew in different directions.

No amount of educational measures, including beating him on the head with a folded Russian Thought in four, could cure the cat of his favorite vice.

The heart-rending meow of Watermelon woke me up. I jumped out of bed and rushed to the balcony, from where his cries for help were flying.

It was bad for her geraniums.

When I woke up in the intensive care ward and in the mirrored ceiling above me I saw my mortal remains surrounded by doctors, I once again admired the successes of German medicine: a whole team of doctors treated my unfortunate limbs! Some were putting the broken ribs back into my chest, sticking out of it like springs from an old sofa, others were screwing some screws and dowels into the scattered bones of my legs, others were digging into my slightly open stomach and sewing something there - and I watched everything that was happening in the mirror above me and felt neither pain nor fear - only complete and absolute peace.

I looked at the reflection of my face as it appeared between the green tops of the doctors bending over me: I wanted to see how my appearance corresponded to this medicinal bliss - and that’s when it all really began. I saw my face, but it was the face of a corpse: white to the point of bluishness, the nose became pointed, blue lips stuck to the teeth, between which a transparent tube stuck out, and in it something hissed and gurgled. I felt disgusted with myself - I was always scared by the faces of the dead, and then there was my own... But the worst thing was that my eyes were closed - so how can I see all this?!

I wonder what I actually look like?

I had to submit and turn in the opposite direction.

I flew past the intensive care unit and turned the corner of the corridor. There was a corner for visitors: a coffee table, a sofa and two armchairs. My friend Natasha was sitting in one of them and talking to someone on her cell phone, shedding copious tears and greedily smoking a cigarette. Of course, the conversation was about me:

– The doctors said that there was practically no hope. Poor Anka! I always knew that this marriage would end in disaster!..

“Natasha, stop chattering and buy me a cigarette!” – I shouted cheerfully from under the ceiling. Without paying any attention to me, she continued the conversation. I sank lower, waved my hand in front of her nose, then touched her shoulder - and my hand passed through it, like a ray of sunshine through water. Very surprised, I gave up my attempts and began to listen to Natasha’s chatter.

- Well, of course, she is in intensive care and no one is allowed to see her. She is unconscious.

George is not here, no one even knows where he is. Apparently he disappeared, the scoundrel. The police found me using her notebook, I told everything about their family life, and now he is wanted as a possible murderer. And I think that he is a murderer even if Anna committed suicide, I’ll tell you what, my dear...

I felt bored and disgusted - and this is my best friend! He’s been sitting here for a couple of hours, judging by the number of cigarette butts and lipstick in the ashtray, crying for me, but still gossiping. I took it and flew away.

I felt sick. I was already tired of hanging around the ceiling, I was tired of this dream, but I didn’t know how to wake up from it. An unprecedentedly acute feeling of loneliness gripped me. I decided to return to the intensive care ward, closer to my body, and I succeeded without difficulty.

There were no doctors in the room anymore, only the nurse on duty was sitting at a table in the corner. My body lay very calm, my chest rose and fell evenly, but, looking at the wires and tubes entangled in me, I realized that life in this body was glimmering only thanks to medical equipment. A luminous cord connected me to my motionless body below, and only then did it dawn on me: this is not a dream or delirium, this is all really happening.

It became clear to me that in fact I had died, artificial life was maintained in my body, and my soul, that is, my precious Self, had already left it, and only this luminous thread still connected me with it. And I felt so sorry for Anna lying there below, helpless, wrapped in bandages and stuck with needles and tubes! But I couldn’t help myself, and I again wanted to be away from myself, and I again flew into the hospital corridor in order to feel even more acutely the utter loneliness that had gripped me.

They appeared at the far end of the corridor, where there was a window. At first I heard their voices, very strange voices: it was as if a group of adults were discussing something very important in squeaky children's voices. I looked in that direction and at first saw only dark silhouettes against the background of the window, short, no more than a meter tall, squat and hunchbacked. They moved towards me and found themselves under the light of the corridor lamps, and then I saw them and immediately decided: aliens! 2
U o. Seraphim Rose, in the book “The Soul after Death,” examines in detail posthumous experiences in which our contemporaries saw precisely aliens, “luminous creatures,” etc. O. Seraphim explains that “the reason is what the dying person expects and is ready to see. Christians of past centuries, who had the living water of “faith”, feared hell, and whose conscience eventually convicted them, often saw demons before death, “...” modern “enlightened” people see what is consistent with their comfortable life and beliefs , excluding the fear of hell and belief in demons. In fact, the demons themselves offer temptations that correspond to the spiritual state or expectations of the dying.” (Quoted from: Fr. Seraphim (Rose). The soul after death. - St. Petersburg, 1994, p. 44). – Editor's notes hereinafter.

Whether I believed or didn’t believe in UFOs before this meeting, I don’t know; more likely, I just didn’t think much about it, but information on this topic accumulated in my head and settled quite well, like any modern reader and TV viewer. In any case, these creatures did not evoke fear in me, rather curiosity, slightly tinged with anxiety. If we assume that such meetings happen, then why shouldn’t this happen to me one day?

The naked, stocky bodies of the aliens were covered with rather unpleasant-looking gray-pink folded skin, large heads sat deep in the shoulders, and in front they turned into elongated faces, which would be more accurately described by the word “snout”.

At first glance, they resembled some kind of exotic animals, something like a cross between pigs and wolves, but the large round eyes, surrounded by dark folds of skin and devoid of eyelashes, definitely sparkled with a keen intelligence.

The aliens stood below me and continued to confer, muttering something in their shrill, hoarse language, which did not even remotely resemble any of the earthly languages I had heard. They were clearly talking about me, since they not only looked in my direction, but also pointed at me with their upper limbs, which looked like children’s hands in carnival wolf gloves with claws, which, it must be said, were quite terrifying in appearance.

Feeling some disgust, I sternly besieged myself: but, but, only without cosmic racism, please! I don’t know what I look like to them, but even to the human eye, I now, presumably, look more like a humanoid jellyfish than a well-preserved female specimen of over forty years old.

One of the aliens, who was head and shoulders taller than the others, took a step forward and spoke to me in Russian, pronouncing the words mechanically, like a robot:

- We came for you. You must come with us immediately.

I was silent, not knowing what to answer. He, too, was silent, then said without any expression:

– We are very glad to meet you. We are full of friendliness.

Very nice! First, the order to go with them to God knows where, and only then the greeting. I decided to show independence:

- Until I find out who you are and where you are inviting me, I will not move. Besides, I'm attached to him. Not to the place, but to my body.

MY POST-DEATH ADVENTURES

You are given to know secrets

Kingdom of God

and the rest - in parables.

God bless!

“The path through the ordeal is difficult and dangerous,” said the Guardian Angel, “you must completely trust us so as not to get into trouble.”

I promised this willingly. Grandfather and Angel grabbed me by the arms, and we began to quickly rise. In a few moments, the hospital wards flashed by, which we flew right through; none of the patients noticed us. We walked through the roof of the hospital and soared above it, rose above the green hospital park, then I saw Munich from a bird's eye view, and then from an airplane, and then we entered the clouds because the day was cloudy.

We flew in silence for a long time through the shining cloudy void. When I wanted to ask Grandfather something, he stopped me:

- Quiet! There are demons all around here, this is their element.

Trials cannot be avoided, but you should not attract demonic attention ahead of time.

I fell silent.

The fog ahead suddenly thickened and darkened. I thought that we were flying into a thundercloud, and for some reason I remembered how dangerous encountering a thunderstorm is for airplanes. The Guardian squeezed my hand and said to Grandfather over my head:

- It's them! Get ready!

The dark cloud was rapidly approaching, and soon we were enveloped in a heavy and stinking smog. In this semi-darkness, vile translucent creatures swarmed, consisting as if of dense, stinking mucus; some of them looked like the “aliens” of old, others like giant bats, and all these evil spirits were spinning and spinning around us, taking off and rapidly diving down, growling and screeching menacingly; this chaotic flight was accompanied by the roar of either thunder or some kind of drums. The noise was incredible, worse than at a disco, and through this roar one could hear: “Ours!” This soul is ours! Let's get her here!

“We’ll have to stop,” said the Guardian. - Talk to them, saint! And you, Anna, listen carefully, but don’t engage in conversation.

We stopped in mid-air. The Guardian covered me with his wing, it became less scary.

– What do you present to this soul, servants of the devil? - asked Grandfather.

One emerged from the swarm of demons, somewhat vaguely reminiscent of a nomenklatura official: the demon was holding an open folder in his hands and was sorting through some papers in it.

“Here everything is recorded: idle talk, swearing, dirty words, blasphemy and other verbal sins,” creaking this, he slammed the folder and shook it over his ugly head.

“Not all at once,” Grandfather stopped him. – If you come to accuse, then bring charges one at a time.

- No, right away! All at once! - the demons shouted all around. – Why waste time here, everything is clear! We have no time to send these chatterboxes to hell in packs, we don’t have time to grab them - they fly in flocks. Give it to us, and that's the end of it!

– Charges – one at a time! - Grandfather stubbornly demanded.

- OK! She's worse!

The impious official again opened his folder and began to mumble all the nonsense, curses, obscene jokes that I had told in my life, and he began with childish abuse like “fool”, “infection”, teasing things like “Kolka the Fool smokes tobacco” and the like nonsense. I guessed that they had all sorts of bastards here.

Suddenly, another one stepped forward from the crowd of demons, naked, but wearing a pioneer tie, and squealed:

– Pioneers – young atheists!

“The pilot flew through the sky and didn’t see God anywhere!” She has been blaspheming since childhood - bring her here!

Of course, I was among the pioneers, like the rest of our generation, but I never uttered these words. I pulled Grandfather’s hand, and he understood what was happening.

- Wait a minute, when did she say that?

The devil official began to fuss, fussing with papers:

- Now, now... I have everything written down, just a minute... Not this... Not that... Well, okay, let’s say she herself didn’t say these words, but she listened to them at pioneer meetings and didn’t mind. Did you object or not? That's it.

Crime by complicity, as they say in their criminal code.

– Let’s leave human laws, we are not on Earth. You better tell me, demon, haven’t you already brought these accusations against those who seduced innocent children’s souls with atheistic obscurantism? I am sure that her unfortunate teachers have already answered for this nonsense.

- Let's say. But we will not waste time on trifles, we will have other materials on the same topic. There is no need to dissemble: it is not we, but you who consider blasphemy to be the gravest sin, we only follow the traditions of ordeals. We ourselves, of course, are only pleased to hear this sweet childish spontaneity.

Through the mouths of babies, as they say, hmm...

“And I know for certain that she has no special spiritual sins.” Everything you accuse her of is a bad upbringing, and not a depravity of the soul, she talked a lot unconsciously - she just chatted.

But I know, as do you, that she paid for her truthful and honest word with her freedom - and now this was absolutely conscious!

“I know, I know, we’ve heard about this other idea of theirs, it’s just chatter!” Yes, by the way, about chatter. Guilty of idle talk, idle talk and idle talk. Four years, eleven months, five days, six hours and thirty-six minutes were spent in empty telephone conversations with girlfriends alone. Our account is as accurate as in a bank!

- Aren’t you ashamed? – my Angel intervened. -

You yourself, being deprived of the opportunity to receive energy from God, impudently connect to telephone wires and suck energy through them from chatterboxes!

My posthumous adventures of Yulia Voznesenskaya epub. Yulia Voznesenskaya - my posthumous adventures

MY POST-DEATH ADVENTURES

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Yulia Voznesenskaya My posthumous adventures

THE MYSTERY OF DEATH

Introductory article

* * *

MY POST-DEATH ADVENTURES

Chapter 1

Yulia Voznesenskaya
My posthumous adventures