you”, a heart-shaped solar ball of energy, on the right bowl, and the Scales became swaying in search of balance.
The Mist, everything was in the Mist, even Joice’s voice reading to me in the Tower about the Apostle Peter. A boy appeared at the Scales. Strange, I didn’t want to see him, who was he? I couldn’t hear his words. There were dark frames on the screen, and I fell into them, into the night full of the Moonlight Sonata. We were driving in a car in complete and oppressive silence, and I broke the silence with a cry, “Talk to me!”
And Time stopped, we drove for a long, long time, looping through the labyrinth of the streets in the subconscious. I was talking to him, but not that and not worthy to talk about. We had to pass just a couple of houses, but we drove, turning left and right, as if diligently trying hard to avoid the same sore spot. He felt everything inside. He was not like… who? I didn’t want to remember anything! The Athos rosary appeared on the screen. The boy at the Scales kept talking. I didn’t hear his words, but I had given him a book he would hardly read, although he was in it. Who was he? The Moonlight Sonata was getting louder. Some letter, a cafe and coffee, he talked to me fiddling with the rosary, about … who? I was silent, and he said, “Talk to me!”
Joice’s voice in the Tower, reading to me about St. Peter, came from the Mist. The boy at the Scales put his “Thank you” in the right bowl, turned around, looking for me, and having found, for some reason said “Sorry”, disappearing.
A woman in black, with white hair, appeared and hugged me crying. Her mother seemed to have died. “You will pray for us all on Athos, and everything will be fine, everything will be fine with us!” The next day I was leaving for Athos. That icon emerged out of my memory as well as memorial notes about her mother to the Athos monasteries, which I passed through pilgrims early in the morning on the pier along with donations. The woman went to Scales and silently put down her “Thank you”. Her face doubled, while the Moonlight Sonata was getting louder and louder. On the screen, she was reading my book with a poem dedicated to her. I didn’t remember which one and what it was about, but there was the word “Love” in it, and I heard her voice, “Talk to me!”
At the same time, I heard Joice’s voice in the Tower, something about the keys to Paradise held by St. Peter. The Mist filled the Court so much that I couldn’t distinguish anything anymore, the Moonlight Sonata displaced all other sounds and voices and abruptly… broke off. I opened my eyes in Joice’s Tower.
“It’s dawn. You have to go, Alice!”
30 Before/11 After. House No. 5
Girl with violets
Somewhere in the Universe
I noticed a girl gliding towards us through the clouds. She greeted me and handed…
“Violets?!” horrified, I looked at the Guardian in hope.
“I’m daughter of Jupiter and Ceres, the highest manifestation of Saturn, Pluto’s wife, the goddess of the Kingdom of the Dead, Persephone, or Proserpine,” the Girl said. “They knew me back in Babylon as Nibiru, and the Zoroastrians called me Daena. Pluto kidnapped me when I was picking violets. I live either with him or on Earth. He gave me a pomegranate seed to taste so that I would always remember death and return to his Kingdom.”
“Proserpine belongs to the light spectral class,” the Guardian consoled me. “She gives a unique chance to open a secret door on Via Combusta, I mean the Burnt Road.”
“Does Proserpine mean Death?” I supposed.
“I’m for radical transformation,” she smiled, “rebirth, transition to another level. The call of the Higher Forces for the constant development of the Spirit. Striving for the Absolute, purity and impeccability. I’ll encourage you to move up, to work on yourself continuously and systematically, not allowing you to stop. As soon as you get stuck, I’ll immediately provoke something. Of course, such people don’t feel easy on Earth because of the increasing demands not only on themselves, but also on others.”
“If you implement the energy of Proserpine, you’ll become a professional with the capital letter,” the Guardian added. “In extreme situations, when everyone refuses to take the hit, signing the own helplessness, you’ll be able to handle it.”
“You need to systematize information scrupulously and fundamentally,” Proserpine continued, “and improve yourself in Sphere No. 5, plunging into it with your head, climbing your Stairway to Heaven. I usually patronize the fundamental sciences, complex analytical works, the creation of global systems, medicine and genetics. However, if one is a magician by passport, I push to work with the Subtle World – alchemy, astronomy, magic, the study of posthumous states… As for workaholism, mathematical and analytical abilities and structuring, I’m Saturn-like and can’t stand lazy people. Saturn works in the earthly area with the majority, in your case he is oriented to the Heavenly, while I focus exclusively on the Heavenly. We give you a great potential for spiritual growth. Your Saturn has a Plutonic character, I’m Pluto’s wife, and we both are in the Sphere where your Burnt Road is located.”
“What kind of road is that?” I asked.
“Both realities, Earthly and Ours, are combined on it, and there is the Transition Point there, the door that breaks the Circle. People don’t notice it usually. The task is to find the door. Believe me, the three of us, Saturn, Pluto and I, as well as your Selene and Sirius, will act together and exclusively for the good! As a result of the incarnation, through a deep transformation, you need to stop being dependent on the earthly psychologically, to let go of all attachments to earthly pleasures and passions. Until you begin to let go of the transient and conditional, I’ll be poisonous with you, but one day the Light of Truth beyond the Time Space will be revealed to you.”
“To spur me on, will you also take something away?”
“I’ve been wandering in the Sign of Libra for a little less than a century, this position is not your personal, but a collective one. In the worst case, the concepts of Good and Evil are confused, people appear as wolves in sheep’s clothing, passing off black as white and vice versa. You’ll be surrounded by such people. I hope you won’t become like them. In general, it’s a sign of the transformation of human relations. My degree is more individual. You’ll be distinguished by altruism, sacrifice, many talents, kindness and modesty, craving for the transcendent, the ability for great deeds. Unfortunately, people use your kindness for selfish purposes, especially higher-ranking ones. Parents have an important place in your life, perhaps just due to the fact that …”
“Where is my mother? Why haven’t I seen her yet?” I asked sadly and almost hopelessly.
“Still ahead,” the Guardian patted me on the shoulder.
“As a child, on the eve of discovering your magical abilities, you’ll write a detective story, and your mother will take it to read to her employees. You’ll conduct mysterious investigations with classmates, prefer movies with detective topics, read Agatha Christie. Later you’ll visit Sherlock Holmes’ house and the Platform 9 and 3/4 in London. The thirst for unraveling the tangle of everything hidden and mysterious is your guiding thread to our World, don’t get stuck on detectives! There’s Markeb, one of the stars of the Argo Ship, about 30 minutes away from me. This star inclines one to secrets, magic or to deep religiosity, travelling for knowledge and enlightening people.”
“Secret
